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UP  THE  HEIGHTS 


OF 


T?AME  AND  FORTUNE, 


AND 


TO  BECOME 


MEN   OF  MARK 


EDITED    BY 

FRED'K  BRENT  READ. 


PUBLISHERS: 
WILLIAM  H.  MOORE  &  COMPANY, 

68  PEARL  STREET,  CINCINNATI. 
I873- 

SOLD     TO     SUBSCRIBERS     ONLY. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1873,  by 

WM.  H.  MOORE  &  COMPANY, 
In  the  Office  of  the   Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington,  D.  C. 

STEREOTYPED   AT  THE   FRANKLIN  TYPE   FOUNDRY,  CINCINNATI. 


H 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
SA.NTA  BARBARA 


PREFACE. 


THE  present  volume  is  intended  for  popular  reading.  It  has 
been  prepared  with  direct  reference  to  supplying  a  large  cir- 
cle of  readers  with  a  fund  of  practical  infofhiation  of  an  interesting 
nature,  and  of  an  instructive  and  elevating  character.  It  has  come 
to  be  true  that  information  must  be  compactly  given,  if  it  is  to  be 
acceptable  to  any  considerable  number  of  people :  it  is  believed 
that  this  volume  furnishes,  in  an  entertaining  series  of  biographies 
in  PART  I,  a  chain  of  remarkable  facts  and  events  not  heretofore 
groupe'd  together,  or  otherwise  accessible  in  any  available  form. 

With  the  decease  of  Prof.  S.  F.  B.  Morse,  in  April  of  the  present 
year,  culminated  the  career  of  the  last  one  of  less  than  a  dozen 
men  whose  inventions  and  improvements  have  changed  the  indus- 
trial, commercial,  and  social  relations  of  the  world.  In  this  work 
the  lives  of  some  of  these  men  are  given  in  nearly  chronological 
order. 

A  single  unit  only  has  been  added  to  the  column  of  centuries, 
beyond  three  years  for  grace,  since  Watt  secured  the  first  patent 
on  his  Condensing  Engine ;  and  not  even  a  century  has  passed 
since  Boulton  and  Watt  became  partners  and  began  the  manufac- 
ture of  Steam-engines :  now  there  are  said  to  be  engaged  in  the 
manufacturing  and  labor  interests  of  Great  Britain  alone  a  hundred 
thousand  of  them,  without  mentioning  Locomotives,  or  engines  em- 
ployed in  navigation.  Perhaps  three  times  as  many  more  Steam- 
engines  are  employed  in  other  countries.  The  civilized  world  may 
fairly  be  said  to  tremble  beneath  the  surging  power  and  groaning 

thug  of  iron  arms  and  sinews,  propelled  by  steam. 

(iii) 


IV  PREFACE, 

The  dormant  power  of  the  coal  beds  of  America,  which  has 
awaited  the  beaming  of  this  high  noon  of  the  nineteenth  century, 
is  destined  to  perform  an  important  part  in  the  onward  march  of 
events. 

The  story  of  the  invention  and  early  development  of  the  Amer- 
ican Telegraph  has  never  before  been  told.  In  the  rushing  move- 
ments of  modern  life  none  can  tarry  to  read  or  listen  to  long  sto- 
ries :  what  is  done,  must  be  done  quickly ;  and  what  is  said,  must 
be  said  briefly.  Interesting  and  instructive  facts  are  in  demand, 
but  they  must  be  given  in  short  space,  and  with  due  consideration 
for  the  value  of  time,  now  that  modern  Motors  have  gone  so  far 
toward  annihilating  both  space  and  time.  We  can  not  doubt  that 
the  series  of  events  brought  to  view  in  the  sketches  of  Morse  and 
Vail,  although  briefly  narrated,  will  be  especially  interesting  to  very 
many  people.  The  facts  are  impartially  stated,  with  no  purpose  but 
to  present  the  truth. 

The  later  portions  of  the  work,  comprised  in  PARTS  II  and  III, 
will  be  found  to  possess  attractions  of  a  different  kind — possibly 
not  less  desirable,  even  if  in  substance  less  positively  material. 
The  sketches  in  these  divisions  of  the  work  are  certainly  as  well 
adapted  to  mold  character  and  incite  to  noble  aims. 

For  the  essential  services  rendered  by  many  gentlemen  and  la- 
dies, residing  at  widely  separated  points,  who  have  furnished  facts 
and  illustrations,  or  directed  to  sources  of  information,  we  take 
pleasure  in  expressing  our  obligations. 

LINDEN  CABIN,  November  -jtli,  1872. 


CONTENTS. 

PART  I. 
GREAT  INVENTORS,  ETC. 

PAGE. 

JAMES  WATT,  Inventor  of  the  Condensing  Engine,  .  .          9 

SIR  RICHARD  ARKWRIGHT,  an   Inventor  and  Improver  of 

Cotton  Machinery,  .  .  .  .  .  .21 

ELI  WHITNEY,  Inventor  of  the  Cotton-Gin,  etc.,  .  .        27 

JOHN  FITCH,  the  Originator  and  Builder  of  the  first  Steamboats, 

1785—1790, 32 

ROBERT  FULTON,  an  Inventor,  and  the  Successful  Pioneer  in 

Steam  Navigation,  ......         57 

DANIEL   FRENCH,  an   Inventor  who  obtained  his  patent  two 

years  before  Fulton  ;  his  Second  boat,  under  the  command  of 
CAPT.    HENRY    M.   SHREVE,   was   the  first  that  ascended  the 

Mississippi  and  Ohio    Rivers,   and    he    was    the    Successful 

Inventor  and  Improver  of  Western  River  Steamers,  and  also 

Inventor  of  the  Snag-boat,  .  .  .  .  .67 

RICHARD  TREVITHICK,  the  Original  Inventor  of  a  Locomotive 

for  Tram  Roads,  ......        90 

GEORGE  STEPHENSON,  the  first  Successful  Railway  Engineer 

and  Passenger  Locomotive  Builder,          ....       105 
THE  STEAM  ENGINE— its  structure,  its  spirit,  its  food,  and  its 

performances,          .  .  .  .  .  .  .219 

SAMUEL    F.   B.    MORSE,    Original  Inventor  of  the   American 

Telegraph,  .......       233 


CONTENTS. 

PACK. 


ALFRED  VAIL,  the  associate  of  Professor  Morse,  and  Inventor 
of  the  present,  the  first  Morse  Alphabet  and  Instruments  used 
in  practical  telegraphing,  .....  265 


PART  II. 
DELVERS  IN  SCIENCE  AND  LITERATURE. 

GEORGE  CUVIER,  the  Eminent  Naturalist,  .  .  .301 

HUGH  MILLER,  the  Stone  Mason,  Geologist,  Author,  and  Editor,      311 
ROBERT   and  WILLIAM    CHAMBERS,  Authors,   Editors  and 

Publishers,  .  .  .  .  .  .  -S31 

HORACE  GREELEY,  Printer,  Author,  EdVor,  and  Publisher,       .      719 

PART  III. 
MEN  of  the  PEOPLE,  who  were  PRACTICAL  PHILANTHROPISTS. 

JOHN  FREDERICK  OBERLIN,  Philanthropist,  .  .      745 

STEPHEN  GIRARD,  Merchant  and  Banker,  .  .  .751 

GEORGE  PEABODY,  Merchant  and  Banker,          .  .  -755 


PART    I. 
STEAM  AND  ELECTRICITY, 

AND   THE 

MEN  WHO  FIRST  UTILIZED  THEM 

AND   MADE   THEM    THE 

Great  Motors  of  Modern  Progress. 


ILLUSTRATIONS  AND  EMBELLISHMENTS. 


Portraits  of  Prof.  Morse  and  Mr.  Peabody,  (Frontispiece).  PACK 

Fitch's  Model  Boat  of  1785,  with  section  of  endless  chain,       .....  40 

Fitch's  Boat  of  1787,  from  "  Columbian  Magazine,"  also  Dr.  Franklin's  Model,       .            .  43 

Fhch's  Philadelphia  and  Trenton  Packet,  1790,             ......  48 

Fitch's  Bardstown  Model,  and  Fac-simile  of  Letter,                 .  55 

Fulton's  First  Steamboat  on  the  Hudson,  1807,               .                                  ....  62 

French's  Steamer  "  Enterprise,"  1814,  First  boat  to  ascend  the  Mississippi  and  Ohio,  (see  pp.  70-72.)   62 

Portrait  of  Henry  M.  Shreve,       .........  67 

Steamers  "  Paragon  "  and  "  Caledonia,"  Western  rivers  1819  and  1823,         .  .        see  78  and  79 

Ohio  River  Steamers,         ..........  S6 

Oliver  Evans's  Road  Engine,        ........  93 

Richard  Trevithick's  Tramroad  Locomotive,      .......  93 

Blenkinsop's  and  Stephenson's  Coal  Engines,     .......  149 

First  Railway  Coach  and  First  Passenger  Engine,         .            .           .            .           .           .  171 

An  American  Locomotive,  with  diagram,            .......  308 

War  Steamer "  Devastation,"       .           .           .           .           .           .           .           .           ..  332 

Statue  of  Prof.  Morse,       ..........  256 

Portrait  of  Alfred  Vail,  with  Telegraph  Instrument,      ......  384 

Fac-simile  of  Certificate,               •            •••.....  293 

Portrait  of  Hugh  Miller,    ..........  31 1 

House  where  Hugh  Miller  was  born,        ........  311 

Lake  Steamer  China,          .            .           .           .           .           .   '        .           .           .           .  (^ 

"  Sound "  Steamer  Commonwealth,        ...            .»».,  738 

Girard  College,  Philadelphia,          .........  753 

(riii) 


JAMES    WATT 


ALL  the  inventions  and  improvements  of  recent  times,  if  meas- 
ured by  their  effects  upon  the  condition  of  society,  sink  into 
insignificance,  when  compared  with  the  extraordinary  results  which 
have  followed  the  employment  of  steam  as  a  mechanical  agent.  To 
one  individual,  the  celebrated  Watt  the  merit  and  honor  of  having 
first  rendered  it  extensively  available  are  pre-eminently  due.  The  force 
of  steam,  in  mechanics,  was  almost  entirely  overlooked  until  within 
the  last  two  centuries.  The  Ancients  were,  in  a  small  measure,  ac- 
quainted with  its  expansive  powers  ;  its  prodigious  energies  were  noticed 
by  a  French  writer,  Solomon  de  Caus,  who  flourished  in  the  beginning 
of  the  seventeenth  century;  in  the  decade  of  1660,  the  Marquis  of 
Worcester  similarly  remarked  the  properties  of  steam.  About  twenty 
years  later,  Sir  Samuel  Morland  projected  a  method  of  employing  it ; 
and  Denis  Papier,  a  native  of  France,  about  1690,  contrived  an 
Engine,  acting  with  steam  and  the  pressure  of  the  atmosphere,  for 
lifting  water,  but  on  an  exceedingly  nide  plan.  The  next  who  tried 
such  a  scheme  was  Captain  Savery,  who,  about  1698,  began  to  erect 
Engines  for  lifting  water,  somewhat  on  the  principle  of  the  sucking- 
pump.  Not  long  after  Savery  had  invented  his  Engine,  Thomas 
Newcomen,  an  iron-monger,  and  John  Galley,  a  glazier,  both  of  Dart- 
mouth, in  Devonshire,  England,  began  also  to  direct  their  attention 
to  the  employment  of  steam.  Their  first  Engine  was  constructed 
about  1711.  This  machine  still  acted  on  the  principle  of  condensing 
the  steam  by  means  of  cold  water,  and  the  pressure  of  the  atmosphere 
on  the  piston.  It  was  found  of  great  value  for  pumping  water  from 
deep  mines ;  but  the  mode  of  its  construction,  the  great  waste  of  fuel, 
the  continual  cooling  and  heating  of  the  cylinder,  and  the  limited 
capacities  of  the  atmosphere  in  impelling  the  piston  downward, — all 
tended  to  circumscribe  its  utility.  Our  knowledge  of  what  might  be 
done  by  steam  was  in  this  state,  when  the  subject  at  last  happily 
attracted  the  attention  of  Mr.  Watt. 

JAMES  WAIT  was  born  at  Greenock,  Scotland,  on  the  i9th  of  Janu- 

(9) 


10  JAMES    WATT. 

ary,  1736.  His  father  was  a  merchant,  and  also  one  of  the  magistrates 
of  that  town.  He  received  the  rudiments  of  his  education  in  his 
native  place ;  but  his  health  being  even  then  extremely  delicate,  as 
it  continued  to  be  to  the  end  of  his  life,  his  attendance  at  school  was 
not  always  very  regular.  He  amply  made  up,  however,  for  what  he 
lost  in  this  way,  by  the  diligence  with  which  he  pursued  his  studies 
at  home,  where,  without  assistance,  he  succeeded,  at  a  very  early  age, 
in  making  considerable  proficiency  in  various  branches  of  knowledge. 
Even  at  this  time,  his  favorite  study  is  said  to  have  been  mechanical 
science,  to  a  love  of  which  he  was  probably,  in  some  degree,  led  by 
the  example  of  his  grandfather  and  his  uncle ;  both  had  been  teachers 
of  mathematics,  and  had  each  left  a  large  reputation  for  learning  and 
ability  in  that  department.  Young  Watt,  however,  was  not  indebted 
to  any  instructions  of  theirs  for  his  own  acquirements  in  science,  the 
former  having  died  two  years  before,  and  the  latter  the  year  after,  he 
was  born.  At  the  age  of  eighteen,  he  was  sent  to  London  to  be 
apprenticed  to  a  maker  of  mathematical  instruments;  but,  in  little 
more  than  a  year,  the  state  of  his  health  forced  him  to  return  to  Scot- 
land, and  he  never  received  any  further  instruction  in  that  profession. 
A  year  or  two  after  this,  however,  a  visit  which  he  paid  to  some 
relatives  in  Glasgow  suggested  to  him  the  plan  of  attempting  to 
establish  himself  there  in  that  business.  In  1757,  he  removed  thither, 
and  was  immediately  appointed  Mathematical  Instrument  Maker  to 
the  college.  He  remained  for  some  years,  enduring  almost  constant 
ill  health,  but  continued  both  to  prosecute  his  profession,  and  to  labor 
with  extraordinary  ardor  and  perseverance  in  the  general  cultivation 
of  his  mind. 

Here  he  enjoyed  the  friendship  and  intimacy  of  several  distin- 
guished persons  who  were  members  of  the  University;  especially  of 
the  celebrated  Dr.  Black,  spoken  of  as  the  discoverer  of  the  principle 
of  latent  heat,  and  Mr.  (afterwards  Dr.)  John  Robinson,  so  well 
known  by  his  treatises  on  Mechanical  Science,  who  was  then  a  stu- 
dent, and  about  the  same  age  as  himself.  Honorable  as  this  ap- 
pointment was,  and  important  as  were  many  of  the  advantages  given 
him,  he  probably  did  not  find  it  a  very  lucrative  one ;  and,  therefore, 
in  1763,  when  about  to  marry,  he  removed  from  his  apartments  in 
the  University  to  a  house  in  the  city,  and  entered  upon  the  profes- 
sion of  general  Engineer. 

For  this  his  genius  and  scientific  attainments  admirably  qualified 
him.  He  soon  acquired  a  high  reputation,  and  was  extensively  em- 
ployed in  making  surveys  and  estimates  for  Canals,  Harbors,  Bridges, 
and  other  public  works.  His  advice  and  assistance  were  sought  for 
in  almost  all  the  important  improvements  of  this  description  then 
undertaken  or  proposed  in  his  native  country.  But  another  pursuit 
was  destined,  ere  long,  to  divert  him  from  this  line  of  exertion,  and 
to  occupy  his  whole  mind  in  efforts  still  more  worthy  of  its  extraor- 
dinary powers. 


IMPROVEMENT    OF    NEWCOMEN'S     ENGINE.  II 

While  yet  residing  in  the  college,  his  attention  had  been  directed 
to  the  employment  of  Steam  as  a  Mechanical  agent,  by  some  specula- 
tions of  his  friend,  Robinson,  as  to  the  practicability  of  applying  this 
power  to  the  movement  of  wheel  carriages.  He  had  also,  himself, 
made  some  experiments  with  Papin's  digester,  to  ascertain  the  expan- 
sive force  of  steam. 

He  had  not  prosecuted  the  inquiry,  however,  so  far  as  to  have  ar- 
rived at  any  determinate  result,  when,  in  the  winter  of  1763-4,  a  small 
model  of  Newcomen's  _engine  was  sent  to  him  by  the  Professor  of 
Natural  Philosophy,  to  be  repaired  and  fitted  for  exhibition  in  the 
class.  The  examination  of  this  model  set  Watt  thinking  anew,  and 
with  more  interest  than  ever,  on  the  powers  of  steam.  Struck  with 
the  radical  imperfections  of  the  Atmospheric  Engine,  he  began  to 
reflect  upon  the  possibility  of  using  steam  in  mechanics,  in  some  new 
manner,  and  with  much  more  powerful  effect.  With  this  idea  he 
engaged  in  an  extensive  course  of  experiments  for  ascertaining  the 
properties  of  steam,  and  was  rewarded  with  several  valuable  discov- 
eries. The  rapidity  with  which  water  evaporates,  he  found,  for  instance, 
depended  simply  upon  the  quantity  of  heat  which  was  made  to  enter 
it ;  and  this  again  on  the  extent  of  the  surface  exposed  to  the  fire. 
He  also  ascertained  the  quantity  of  coal  necessary  for  the  evapora- 
tion of  any  given  quantity  of  water,  the  heat  at  which  water  boils 
under  various  pressures,  and  many  other  particulars  of  a  similar  kind, 
which  had  never  before  been  accurately  determined. 

Thus  prepared  by  a  competent  knowledge  of  the  properties  of  the 
agent  with  which  he  had  to  work,  he  proceeded  to  consider,  with  a 
view  to  amend,  what  he  deemed  the  two  grand  defects  of  Newcomen's 
engine.  The  first  of  these  was  the  necessity  arising  from  the  method 
employed  to  concentrate  the  steam,  which  was,  to  cool  the  cylinder  by 
injecting  cold  water  before  every  stroke  of  the  piston.  On  this  ac- 
count, a  much  more  powerful  application  of  heat  was  requisite  for  the 
purpose  of  again  heating  the  vessel  to  be  refilled  with  steam.  In  fact, 
Watt  ascertained  that,  in  feeding  the  machine,  there  was  a  waste  of  not 
less  than  three-fourths  of  the  fuel.  If  the  cylinder,  instead  of  being 
cooled  at  every  stroke,  could  be  kept  permanently  hot,  a  fourth  part 
of  the  heat  would  be  found  sufficient  to  produce  steam  to  fill  it. 
How,  then,  was  this  desideratum  to  be  attained  ?  Savery,  the  first 
who  really  constructed  a  working  engine,  and  whose  arrangements 
showed  superior  ingenuity,  employed  cold  water  upon  the  outside  of 
the  steam  cylinder,  a  perfectly  manageable  process,  but  at  the  same  time 
a  very  wasteful  one,  inasmuch  as,  every  time  it  was  repeated,  it  con- 
densed not  only  the  steam,  but  also  cooled  the  vessel,  which  had  again 
to  be  heated  by  a  very  large  expenditure  of  fuel.  Newcomen's 
method  of  injecting  the  water  into  the  cylinder  was  a  considerable  im- 
provement on  Savery's,  but  still  was  objectionable  on  the  same  ground, 
though  not  to  the  same  degree ;  it  still  not  only  condensed  the  steam, 
but  cooled  also  the  cylinder  itself,  in  which  more  steam  was  to  be 


12  JAMES     WATT. 

immediately  manufactured,  and  therefore  should,  if  possible,  have  been 
kept  hot.  It  was  also  a  very  serious  objection  to  this  plan,  that  the 
injected  water  itself,  from  the  heat  of  the  place  into  which  it  was 
thrown,  was  very  apt  to  be  partly  converted  into  steam ;  and  the  more 
cold  water  used,  the  more  (under  the  circumstances)  was  new  steam 
generated.  In  fact,  in  the  best  of  Newcomen's  Engines,  the  perfection 
of  the  vacuum  was  thus  so  greatly  impaired,  that  the  resistance  to  the 
piston,  in  its  descent,  amounted  to  about  a  fourth  part  of  the  whole 
atmospheric  pressure  by  which  it  was  carried  down,  or,  in  other  words, 
the  working  power  of  the  machine  was  thereby  diminished  one-fourth. 

After  reflecting  upon  all  this,  it  at  last  occurred  to  Watt  that  it  might 
be  possible  to  condense  steam  in  some  other  vessel  than  in  the  cylinder. 
This  fortunate  idea  having  presented  itself,  it  was  not  long  before  the 
means  for  realizing  it  were  also  suggested.  In  the  course  of  one  or 
two  days,  as  he  tells  us,  he  had  all  the  necessary  apparatus  arranged 
in  his  mind.  The  plan  which  he  devised  was  a  simple  one,  therefore 
the  more  beautiful.  He  connected  the  cylinder  and  another  vessel  by 
an  open  pipe,  so  that,  when  the  steam  was  admitted  into  the  former,  it 
flowed  into  the  latter,  and  filled  it  also ;  this  latter  vessel  only  being 
subjected  to  a  condensing  process,  by  contact  with  cold  water,  a  va- 
cuum was  produced,  and  into  that,  as  a  vent,  more  steam  would  imme- 
diately rush  from  the  cylinder,  which  would  likewise  be  condensed, 
and  so  the  process  would  go  on  until  the  steam  had  left  the  cyl- 
inder, and  a  perfect  vacuum  had  been  effected  in  that  vessel,  without 
so  much  as  a  drop  of  cold  water  having  touched  or  entered  it.  The 
separate  vessel  alone,  or  the  condenser,  as  Watt  called  it,  was  cooled 
by  the  water  condensing  the  steam,  and,  instead  of  being  an  evil, 
manifestly  promoted  and  quickened  the  condensation.  When  Watt 
reduced  these  views  to  the  test  of  an  experiment,  he  found  the  result 
to  answer  his  most  sanguine  expectations.  The  cylinder,  although 
emptied  of  its  steam  for  every  stroke  of  the  piston,  as  before,  was  now 
constantly  kept  at  the  same  temperature  with  the  steam,  (or  212°  Fa- 
renheit),  and  the  consequence  was,  that  one-fourth  of  the  fuel  formerly 
required  sufficed  to  feed  the  engine.  But  besides  this  saving  of  expense 
in  maintaining  the  engine,  its  power  was  greatly  increased  by  the  more 
perfect  vacuum ;  the  condensing  water  could  not,  as  before,  create 
new  steam  while  displacing  the  old. 

Thus,  by  the  genius  of  this  great  inventor,  was  the  serious  defect  of 
the  old  apparatus  remedied.  In  carrying  his  ideas  into  execution,  he 
encountered,  as  was  to  be  expected,  many  difficulties,  arising  princi- 
pally from  the  impossibility  of  realizing  theoretical  perfection  of 
structure  with  such  materials  as  he  had  to  work  with;  but  his  ingenuity 
and  perseverance  overcame  every  obstacle. 

One  of  the  things  which  caused  him  the  greatest  trouble  was,  how 
to  fit  the  piston  so  exactly  to  the  cylinder  as,  without  effecting  the 
freedom  of  its  motion,  to  prevent  the  passage  of  air  between  the  two. 
In  the  old  Engine,  this  end  had  been  attained  by  covering  the  piston 


ECONOMY     OF     FUEL.  13 

with  a  small  quantity  of  water,  which,  dripping  into  the  space  below,  and 
mixing  with  the  steam,  had  little  or  no  evil  consequence.  But  in  the 
new  construction,  this  receptacle  for  the  steam,  always  to  be  kept  both 
hot  and  dry,  such  an  effusion  of  moisture,  although  only  in  very  small 
quantities,  would  have  occasioned  material  inconvenience.  The  air 
alone,  which  in  the  old  engine  followed  the  piston  in  its  descent,  acted 
with  considerable  effect  in  cooling  the  lower  part  of  the  cylinder.  His 
attempts  to  overcome  this  difficulty,  while  they  succeeded  in  that  ob- 
ject, conducted  Watt  also  to  another  improvement,  which  effected  the 
complete  removal  of  what  we  have  called  the  second  radical  imper- 
fection of  Newcomen's  engine,  namely,  its  non-employment  of  the 
expansive  force  of  the  steam.  The  effectual  way  of  preventing  the  air 
from  escaping  into  the  part  of  the  cylinder  below  the  piston  would 
be,  he  thought,  to  dispense  with  the  use  of  that  element  above  the 
piston,  and  substitute  there  the  same  contrivance  as  below, — alternate 
steam  and  a  vacuum.  This  was,  of  course,  to  be  accomplished  by 
merely  opening  communications  from  the  upper  part  of  the  cylinder 
to  the  boiler  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  condenser  on  the  other,  and 
forming  it  at  the  same  time  into  an  air-tight  chamber,  by  means  of  a 
cover,  with  only  a  hole  in  it  to  admit  the  rod  or  shank  of  the  piston ; 
which  might,  besides,  without  impeding  its  freedom  of  action,  be  padded 
with  hemp,  the  more  completely  to  exclude  the  air.  It  was  so  con- 
trived, accordingly,  by  a  proper  arrangement  of  the  cocks  and  the  ma- 
chinery connected  with  them,  that,  while  there  was  a  vacuum  in  one  end 
of  the  cylinder,  there  should  be  an  admission  of  steam  into  the  other ; 
and  the  steam  so  admitted  now  served,  not  only,  by  its  susceptibility 
of  sudden  condensation,  to  create  the  vacuum,  but  also,  by  its  expan- 
sive force,  to  impel  the  piston. 

These  were  the  great  improvements  made  by  Watt,  in  what  may  be 
called  the  principle  of  the  steam-engine,  or,  in  other  words,  in  the 
manner  of  using  and  applying  the  steam.  They  constitute,  therefore, 
the  grounds  of  his  claim  to  be  regarded  as  the  true  author  of  the  con- 
quest that  was  at  last  obtained  by  man  over  this  powerful  element. 
But  original  and  comprehensive  as  were  the  views  out  of  which  these 
fundamental  inventions  arose,  the  exquisite  and  inexhaustible  inge- 
nuity which  the  Engine,  as  finally  perfected  by  him,  displays  in  every 
part  of  its  subordinate  mechanism,  te  calculated  to  strike  us,  perhaps, 
with  scarcely  less  admiration.  It  forms  undoubtedly  the  best  exempli- 
fication that  had  ever  been  afforded,  of  the  number  and  diversity  of 
services  which  a  piece  of  machinery  might  be  made  to  render  itself, 
by  means  solely  of  the  various  applications  of  its  first  moving  power, 
when  that  had  once  been  called  into  action.  Of  these  contrivances, 
however,  we  can  only  notice  one  or  two,  by  way  of  specimen.  Per- 
haps the  most  singular  is  that  called  the  Governor.  This  consists  of 
an  upright  spindle,  which  is  kept  constantly  turning,  by  being  con- 
nected with  a  certain  part  of  the  machinery,  and  from  which  two 
balls  are  suspended  in  opposite  directions  by  rods,  attached  by  joints, 


14  JAMES     WATT. 

somewhat  in  the  manner  of  the  legs  of  a  pair  of  tongs.  As  long  as 
the  motion  of  the  Engine  is  uniform,  that  of  the  spindle  is  so  like- 
wise, and  the  balls  continue  steadily  revolving  at  the  same  distance 
from  each  other.  But  as  soon  as  any  alteration  in  the  action  of  the 
piston  takes  place,  the  balls,  if  it  has  become  more  rapid,  fly  farther 
apart,  under  the  influence  of  the  increased  centrifugal  force  which  act- 
uates them,  or  approach  nearer  to  each  other  in  opposite  circum- 
stances. This  alone  would  have  served  to  indicate  the  state  of  mat- 
ters to  the  eye;  but  Watt  was  not  to  be  so  satisfied.  He  connected  the 
rods  with  the  valve  in  the  tube,  by  which  the  steam  is  admitted  to 
the  cylinder  from  the  boiler,  in  such  a  way  that,  as  they  retreat  from 
each  other,  they  gradually  narrow  the  opening  which  is  so  guarded, 
or  enlarge  it  as  they  tend  to  collapse ;  thus  diminishing  the  supply 
of  steam  when  the  engine  is  going  too  fast,  and,  when  it  is  not  going 
fast  enough,  enabling  it  to  regain  its  proper  speed,  by  allowing  it  an 
increase  of  aliment.  Again,  the  constant  supply  of  a  sufficiency  of 
water  to  the  boiler  is  secured  by  an  equally  simple  provision,  namely, 
by  a  float  resting  on  the  surface  of  the  water,  which,  as  soon  as  it  is 
carried  down  by  the  consumption  of  the  water,  to  a  certain  point, 
opens  a  valve  and  admits  more.  And  so  on,  through  all  the  different 
parts  of  the  apparatus,  the  various  wonders  of  which  can  not  be  better 
summed  up  than  in  the  forcible  and  graphic  language  of  a  recent 
writer: — "In  the  present  perfect  state  of  the  engine,  it  appears  a  thing 
almost  endowed  with  intelligence.  It  regulates  with  perfect  accuracy 
and  uniformity  the  number  of  its  strokes  in  a  given  time,  counting  or 
recording  them  moreover,  to  tell  how  much  work  it  has  done,  as  the 
clock  records  the  beats  of  its  pendulum;  it  regulates  the  quantity  of 
steam  admitted  to  work ;  the  briskness  of  the  fire ;  the  supply  of  the 
water  to  the  boiler ;  the  supply  of  coal  to  the  fire  ;  it  opens  and  shuts 
its  valves  with  absolute  precision  as  to  time  and  manner;  it  oils  its 
joints;  it  takes  out  any  air  which  may  accidentally  enter  into  parts 
which  should  be  vacuous ;  and  when  any  thing  goes  wrong  which  it 
can  not  itself  rectify,  it  warns  its  attendants  by  ringing  a  bell ;  yet, 
with  all  these  talents  and  qualities,  and  even  when  exerting  the  power 
of  six  hundred  horses,  it  is  obedient  to  the  hand  of  a  child ;  its  ali- 
ment is  coal,  wood,  charcoal,  or  other  combustible ;  it  consumes  none 
while  idle;  it  never  tires,  and  tfants  no  sleep;  it  is  not  subject  to 
malady,  when  originally  well  made,  and  only  refuses  to  work  when 
worn  out  with  age ;  it  is  equally  active  in  all  climates,  and  will  do 
work  of  any  kind ;  it  is  a  water-pumper,  a  miner,  a  sailor,  a  cotton- 
spinner,  a  weaver,  a  blacksmith,  a  miller,  etc.,  etc. ;  and  a  small  en- 
gine, in  the  character  of  a  steam  pony,  may  be  seen  dragging  after  it 
on  a  railroad  hundreds  of  tons  of  merchandise,  or  regiments  of  sol- 
diers, with  by  far  greater  speed  than  that  of  our  fleetest  coaches.  It 
is  the  king  of  machines,  and  a  permanent  realization  of  the  Genii  of 
Eastern  fable,  whose  supernatural  powers  were  occasionally  at  the 
command  of  men." 


HIS     FIRST     PATENT.  15 

In  addition  to  difficulties  which  his  unrivaled  mechanical  ingenuity 
enabled  him  to  surmount,  Watt,  notwithstanding  the  merit  of  his 
invention,  had  to  contend  for  some  time  with  others  of  a  different 
nature,  in  his  attempts  to  reduce  them  to  practice.  He  had  no  pecu- 
niary resources  of  his  own,  and  was  at  first  without  any  friend  willing  to 
run  the  risk  of  the  outlay  necessary  for  an  experiment  on  a  sufficiently 
large  scale.  At  last,  he  applied  to  Dr.  Roebuck,  an  ingenious  and  spir- 
ited speculator,  who  had  just  established  the  "  Carron  Iron  Works," 
not  far  from  Glasgow,  and  held  also,  at  this  time,  a  lease  of  the  ex- 
tensive coal  works  at  Kinneal,  the  property  of  the  Duke  of  Hamilton. 
Dr.  Roebuck  agreed  to  advance  the  requisite  funds  on  having  two- 
thirds  of  the  profits  made  over  to  him ;  and  upon  this  Mr.  Watt  took 
out  his  first  patent  in  the  beginning  of  the  year  1769.  An  Engine, 
with  a  cylinder  of  eighteen  inches  in  diameter,  was  soon  after  erected 
at  Kinneal ;  and  although,  as  a  first  experiment,  it  was  necessarily  in 
some  respects  of  defective  construction,  its  working  completely  de- 
monstrated the  great  value  of  Watt's  improvement.  But  Dr.  Roebuck, 
whose  undertakings  were  very  numerous  and  various,  in  no  long  time 
after  forming  this  connection,  found  himself  involved  in  such  pecuniary 
difficulties  as  to  put  it  out  of  his  power  to  make  any  farther  advances 
in  the  prosecution  of  its  object. 

On  this,  Watt  applied  himself  for  some  years  almost  entirely  to  the 
ordinary  work  of  his  profession  as  a  Civil  Engineer ;  but  at  last,  about 
the  year  1774,  when  all  hopes  of  any  further  assistance  from  Dr.  Roe- 
buck were  at  an  end,  he  resolved  to  close  with  a  proposal  which  had 
been  made  to  him  through  his  friend,  Dr.  Small,  of  Birmingham,  that 
he  should  remove  to  that  town,  and  enter  into  partnership  with  an 
eminent  hardware  manufacturer,  Mr.  Boulton,  whose  extensive  estab- 
lishments at  Soho  had  already  become  famous  over  Europe,  and  pro- 
cured for  England  an  unrivaled  reputation  for  the  arts  there  carried 
on. 

Accordingly,  an  arrangement  having  been  made  with  Dr.  Roebuck, 
by  which  his  share  of  the  patent  was  transferred  to  Mr.  Boulton,  the 
firm  of  Boulton  &  Watt  commenced  the  business  of  making  Steam  En- 
gines in  the  year  1775. 

Mr.  Watt  now  obtained  from  Parliament  an  extension  of  his  patent 
for  twenty-five  years  from  that  date,  in  consideration  of  the  acknowl- 
edged National  importance  of  his  Inventions.  The  first  thing  which 
he  and  his  partner  did  was  to  erect  an  Engine  at  Soho,  which  they 
invited  all  persons  interested  in  such  machines  to  inspect.  They  then 
proposed  to  erect  similar  engines  wherever  required,  on  the  very  lib- 
eral principle  of  receiving  as  payment  for  each  only  one-third  of  the 
saving  in  fuel  which  it  should  effect,  as  compared  with  one  of  the  old 
construction. 

But  the  Draining  of  Mines  was  only  one  of  the  many  applications 
of  the  steam  power  now  at  his  command,  which  Watt  contem- 
plated, and  in  the  course  of  time  accomplished.  During  the  whole 


l6  JAMES     WATT. 

twenty-five  years,  indeed,  over  which  his  renewed  patent  extended, 
the  perfecting  of  his  invention  was  his  chief  occupation  ;  and,  not- 
withstanding a  delicate  state  of  health,  and  the  depressing  affliction  of 
severe  headaches,  to  which  he  was  extremely  subject,  he  continued 
throughout  this  period  to  persevere  with  unwearied  diligence  in  adding 
new  improvements  to  the  mechanism  of  the  engine,  and  devising  the 
means  of  applying  it  to  new  purposes  of  usefulness.  He  devoted,  in 
particular,  the  exertions  of  many  years  to  the  contriving  of  the  best 
methods  of  making  the  action  of  the  piston  communicate  a  rotatory 
motion  under  various  circumstances;  and  between  the  years  1781  and 
1785  he  took  out  four  different  patents  for  inventions,  having  this 
object  in  view. 

While  residing  at  the  University  of  Glasgow,  in  1759,  Watt's  young 
friend,  Robinson,  suggested  the  feasibility  of  applying  steam  power  to 
the  driving  of  wheel  carriages  on  common  roads.  Robinson  prepared 
a  rough  sketch  of  his  proposed  steam  carriage,  and  in  this  sketch  he 
located  the  cylinder  with  its  open  end  downward,  to  avoid  the  neces- 
sity for  using  a  working  beam.  Watt  was  then  young, — but  twenty- 
three, — and  was  very  much  occupied  in  his  business  of  making 
Mathematical  Instruments ;  he,  however,  proceeded  to  construct  a 
model  locomotive  provided  with  two  cylinders  of  tin-plate,  intending 
that  the  pistons  and  their  connecting  rods  should  act  alternately  on 
two  pinions  attached  to  the  axles  of  the  carriage-wheels.  The  model, 
when  made,  did  not  answer  Watt's  expectations ;  and,  shortly  after, 
when  Robinson  left  college  to  go  to  sea,  he  laid  the  project  aside, 
and  did  not  resume  it  for  many  years. 

In  the  meantime,  an  ingenious  French  mechanic  and  military  officer, 
named  Nicholas  Joseph  Cugnot,  constructed  a  steam  carriage,  at  the 
arsenal,  in  1769,  at  the  cost  of  the  Comte  de  Saxe.  On  being  first 
set  in  motion,  it  ran  against  a  stone  wall  which  stood  in  its  way,  and 
threw  it  down.  Here  was  evidence  of  its  power.  It  afterwards  tra- 
veled two  and  a  quarter  miles  an  hour,  but  could  not  be  easily  man- 
aged ;  and  the  size  of  the  boiler  being  insufficient,  it  would  not  continue 
to  work  more  than  twelve  to  fifteen  minutes.  This  locomotive  was  a 
simple  and  ingenious  form  of  a  high- pressure  engine  ;  and,  although 
rude  in  construction,  it  was,  considering  the  time  of  its  appearance, 
a  creditable  piece  of  work,  and  excited  no  small  degree  of  interest  on 
the  streets  of  Paris,  where  it  made  several  successful  trial-trips.  One 
day,  however,  when  turning  the  corner  of  a  street  near  the  Madeleine, 
and  it  was  running  at  a  speed  of  about  three  miles  an  hour,  it  be- 
came over-balanced,  and  fell  with  a  heavy  crash.  Considered  dangerous, 
it  was  thenceforth  locked  up  securely  in  the  arsenal.  But  the  inventor's 
merits  were  duly  recognized,  by  the  Government  granting  him  a  pension 
of  three  hundred  livres.  His  locomotive  is  still  to  be  seen  in  one  of 
the  museums  of  Paris. 

While  Cugnot  was  constructing  his  machine  at  Paris,  one  Francis 
Moore,  a  linen-draper,  was  taking  out  a  patent  in  London  for  moving 


ROAD    LOCOMOTION.  17 

wheel  carriages  by  steam.  In  March,  1769,  he  gave  notice  of  his 
patent,  but  it  does  not  appear  that  he  did  any  thing  beyond  lodging 
the  titles  of  his  inventions. 

James  Watt's  friend  and  correspondent,  Dr.  Small,  of  Birmingham, 
when  he  heard  of  Moore's  intended  project,  wrote  to  the  Glasgow  in- 
ventor, to  stimulate  him  to  perfect  his  steam-engine,  then  in  hand,  and 
urging  him  to  apply  it,  among  other  things,  to  purposes  of  locomotion. 
"I  hope  soon,"  said  Small,  "to  travel  in  a  fiery  chariot  of  your  in- 
vention." Watt  replied  to  the  effect  that,  "  if  linen-draper  Moore 
does  not  use  my  Engines  for  driving  his  carriages,  he  can't  drive  them 
by  steam.  If  he  does,  I  will  stop  them."  But  Watt  was  a  long  way 
from  perfecting  his  invention.  The  steam-engine,  capable  of  driving 
carriages,  was  a  problem  to  the  solution  of  which  Watt  never  fairly 
applied  himself.  It  was  enough  for  him  to  accomplish  the  great  work 
of  perfecting  his  condensed  Engine,  and  with  that  he  rested  content. 

But  Watt  continued  to  be  so  strongly  urged  by  those  about  him  to 
apply  steam  power  to  purposes  of  locomotion  that,  in  his  comprehen- 
sive patent  of  August  24,  1784,  he  included  an  arrangement  with  that 
object  in  view.  From  his  specifications,  we  learn  that  he  proposed 
a  cylindrical  or  globular  boiler,  protected  outside  by  wood,  strongly 
hooped  together,  with  a  furnace  inside  entirely  surrounded  by  the 
water  to  be  heated,  except  at  the  ends. 

Though  Watt  repeatedly  expressed  his  intention  of  constructing  a 
model  locomotive  after  his  specification,  it  does  not  appear  that  he 
ever  carried  it  out.  He  was  too  much  engrossed  with  other  work ; 
and  besides,  he  never  entertained  very  sanguine  views  as  to  the  practica- 
bility of  road  locomotion  by  steam.  He  continued,  however,  to  dis- 
cuss the  subject  with  his  partner,  Boulton,  and  from  his  letters  we 
gather  that  his  mind  continued  undetermined  as  to  the  best  plan  to  be 
pursued. 

From  what  he  said  to  Boulton,  it  is  plain  that  Watt's  views  as  to  road 
locomotion  were  crude  and  undefined;  and,  indeed,  he  never  carried 
them  farther.  While  he  was  thus  discussing  the  subject  with  Boulton, 
William  Murdock,  one  of  the  most  skilled  and  ingenious  workmen  of 
the  Soho  firm,  then  living  at  Redruth,  in  Cornwall,  was  occupying 
himself  during  his  leisure  hours,  which  were  but  few,  in  constructing 
a  model  locomotive,  after  a  design  of  his  own.  He  had,  doubtless, 
heard  of  the  proposal  to  apply  steam  to  locomotion,  and,  being  a 
clever  inventor,  he  forthwith  set  himself  to  work  out  the  problem. 
The  plan  he  pursued  was  very  simple,  and  yet  efficient.  His 
model  was  of  small  dimensions,  standing  little  more  than  a  foot  high  ; 
but  it  was  sufficiently  large  to  demonstrate  the  soundness  of  the 
principle  on  which  it  was  constructed.  It  was  supported  on  three 
wheels,  and  carried  a  small  copper  boiler,  heated  by  a  spirit-lamp, 
with  a  flue  passing  obliquely  through  it.  The  cylinder,  of  three-fourth- 
inch  diameter,  and  two- inch  stroke,  was  fixed  in  the  top  of  the  boiler, 
the  piston-rod  being  connected  with  the  vibrating  beam  attached  to 


l8  JAMES    WATT. 

the  connecting-rod  which  worked  the  crank  of  the  driving-wheel. 
This  little  engine  worked  by  the  expansive  force  of  the  steam  only, 
which  was  discharged  into  the  atmosphere  after  it  had  done  its  work 
of  alternately  raising  and  depressing  the  piston  in  the  cylinder. 

This  model  was  invented  and  constructed  in  1781;  but  from  the 
correspondence  of  Boulton  &  Watt,  we  infer  that  it  was  not  ready 
for  trial  until  1784.  The  first  experiment  with  it  was  made  in  Mur- 
dock's  own  house  at  Redruth,  when  it  successfully  hauled  a  model 
wagon  round  the  room,  the  single  wheel  placed  in  front  of  the  en- 
gine, and  working  in  a  swivel  frame,  enabling  it  to  run  round  in  a 
circle. 

Another  experiment  was  made  out  of  doors,  on  which  occasion,  small 
though  the  engine  was,  it  fairly  outran  the  speed  of  its  inventor.  One 
night,  after  returning  from  his  duties  at  the  Redruth  mine,  Murdock 
determined  to  try  the  working  of  his  model  locomotive.  For  this 
purpose,  he  had  recourse  to  the  walk  leading  to  the  church,  about  a 
mile  from  the  town.  It  was  rather  narrow,  and  was  bounded  on  each 
side  by  high  hedges.  The  night  was  dark,  and  Murdock  set  out  alone 
to  try  his  experiment.  Having  lit  his  lamp,  the  water  soon  boiled, 
when  off  started  the  engine,  with  the  inventor  after  it.  Shortly  after, 
he  heard  distant  shouts  of  terror.  It  was  too  dark  to  perceive  ob- 
jects ;  but  he  found,  on  following  up  the  machine,  that  the  cries  pro- 
ceeded from  the  worthy  pastor  of  the  parish,  who,  going  toward  the 
town,  was  met  on  this  lonely  road  by  the  hissing  and  fiery  little  mon- 
ster, which  he  subsequently  declared  he  had  taken  to  be  the  Evil  One, 
in  propia  persona. 

Watt  was  by  no  means  pleased  when  he  learned  that  Murdock  was 
giving  his  mind  to  these  experiments.  He  feared  that  it  might  have 
the  effect  of  withdrawing  him  from  the  employment  of  the  firm,  to 
which  his  services  had  become  almost  indispensable ;  for  there  was  no 
more  active,  skillful,  or  ingenious  workman  in  all  their  concern.  Watt 
accordingly  wrote  to  Boulton,  recommending  him  to  advise  Murdock 
to  give  up  his  locomotive-engine  scheme ;  but,  if  he  could  not  succeed 
in  that,  then,  rather  than  lose  Murdock's  services,  Watt  proposed  that 
he  should  be  allowed  an  advance  of  £100  to  enable  him  to  prosecute 
his  experiments,  and  if  he  succeeded  within  a  year  in  making  an  engine 
capable  of  drawing  a  post-chaise  carrying  two  passengers  and  the 
driver,  at  four  miles  an  hour,  it  was  suggested  that  he  should  be  taken 
as  partner  into  the  locomotive  business,  for  which  Boulton  &  Watt 
were  to  provide  the  necessary  capital. 

Two  years  later,  (in  September,  1786),  we  find  Watt  again  express- 
ing his  regret  to  Boulton  that  Murdock  was  "busying  himself  with 
the  steam  carriage."  "I  have  still,"  said  he,  "the  same  opinion 
concerning  it  that  I  had  ;  but  to  prevent  as  much  as  possible  more 
fruitless  argument  about  it,  I  have  one  of  some  size  under  hand,  and 
am  resolved  to  try  if  God  will  work  a  miracle  in  favor  of  these  car- 
riages. I  shall,  in  some  future  letter,  send  you  the  words  of  my 


WHAT    THE    STEAM-ENGINE    HAS    ACHIEVED.  19 

specification  on  that  subject.  In  the  mean  time,  I  wish  William 
could  be  brought  to  do  as  we  do,  to  mind  the  business  in  hand,  and 
let  others  throw  away  their  time  and  money  in  hunting  shadows."  In  a 
subsequent  letter,  Watt  expressed  his  gratification  "that  William  applies 
himself  to  his  business."  From  that  time  Murdock,  as  well  as  Watt, 
dropped  all  further  speculation  on  the  subject,  and  left  others  to  work 
out  the  problem  of  the  locomotive  engine.  Murdock' s  model  re- 
mained but  a  curious  toy,  which  he  took  pleasure  in  exhibiting  to  his 
intimate  friends. 

Symington  &  Sadler,  the  "hunters  of  shadows"  referred  to  by 
Watt,  did  little  to  advance  the  question. 

So  long  as  Boulton  &  Watt's  patent  continued  to  run,  constant 
attempts  were  made  in  Cornwall  and  other  mining  regions  to  get 
round  it,  but  they  were  Kings  within  the  entire  realm  of  their  endeav- 
ors, until  the  term  of  their  patent  ended,  in  1800. 

Watt's  engines  had  cleared  the  mines  of  water,  and  thereby  rescued 
the  mine  lords  from  ruin ;  but  they  felt  it  to  be  a  great  hardship  for 
them  to  be  obliged  to  pay  Boulton  &  Watt  for  the  right  to  use  them, 
and,  therefore,  they  sought  to  stimulate  the  local  Engineers  to  contrive 
some  evasion  of  the  patent.  Jonathan  Hornblower,  who  had  been 
engaged  in  erecting  Watt's  engines  in  Cornwall,  was  the  first  to  pro- 
duce an  engine  that  seemed  likely  to  answer  the  purpose. 

Then  Edward  Bull,  who  had  been  first  a  stoker,  and  then  an  assistant- 
tender  of  Watt's  engine,  turned  out  another  pumping-engine,  which 
promised  safely  to  evade  the  patent ;  but  the  patentees  proved  successful 
in  defending  their  right  in  Several  actions  which  were  tried,  so  that 
the  mine  lords  were  compelled  to  disgorge,  greatly  to  their  disgust. 
Poor  Hornblower  was  abandoned  by  them,  and  shortly  after  was  almost 
in  a  state  of  starvation,  and  soon  was  imprisoned  for  debt.  . 

The  Steam-Engine  has  already  gone  far  to  revolutionize  the  whole 
domain  of  human  industry ;  and  almost  every  year  is  adding  to  its 
power  and  conquests.  In  our  manufactures,  our  arts,  our  commerce,  our 
social  accommodations,  it  is  constantly  achieving  what,  a  little  less 
than  a  century  ago,  would  have  been  accounted  miracles  and  impossi- 
bilities. The  trunk  of  an  Elephant,  it  has  been  finely  and  truly  said, 
that  can  "pick  up  a  pin"  or  rend  an  oak  is  nothing  to  it.  It  can 
engrave  a  seal,  and  crush  masses  of  obdurate  metal  like'wax,  draw  out, 
without  breaking,  a  thread  as  fine  as  gossamer,  and  lift  a  Ship  of  War 
like  a  bauble  in  the  air.  It  can  embroider  muslin,  and  forge  anchors  ; 
cut  steel  into  ribbands,  and  impel  loaded  vessels  against  the  fury  of 
the  winds  and  waves.  It  had  been  employed  many  years  at  collieries, 
in  propelling  heavily-loaded  carriages  over  railways;  but  the  final 
great  experiment  of  the  Liverpool  and  Manchester  Railway,  for  the 
first  time,  practically  demonstrated  with  what  hitherto  undreamed-of 
rapidity  traveling  by  land  might  thereafter  be  carried  on  through  the 
agency  of  steam  power. 

Coaches,  by  this  the  most  potent  of  all  our  mechanical  agencies, 


20  JAMES     WATT. 

have  been  drawn  forward  at  the  flying  speed  of  from  thirty  to  sixty 
miles  an  hour;  but  it  would  be  rash  to  conclude  that  even  this  is  to 
be  our  ultimate  limit  of  attainment. 

In  navigation  the  resistance  of  water  increases  rapidly,  as  the  propel- 
ling force  increases ;  but  in  railway  traveling  by  land  no  such  serious 
resistance  has  to  be  overcome.  When  present  speed  of  land  travel  shall 
have  become  universal,  in  what  a  new  state  of  society  shall  we  find  our- 
selves. We  are  now  able  to  travel  some  seven  hundred  miles  per  day,  for 
seven  or  eight  days,  on  a  continuous  east  and  west  line  from  the  Atlantic 
to  the  Pacific,  bringing  the  remotest  extremes  of  our  large  country 
(especially  when  aided  by  telegraphic  facilities)  into  neighborhood 
relations,  and  making  the  Nation  a  community  indeed.  When  these 
facilities,  like  the  light  of  heaven,  shall  have  become  equally  diffused 
over  the  World,  the  benefits  conferred  by  the  highest  civilization  will 
not  be  long  deferred. 

"  It  is  gratifying  to  reflect  that,  even  when  he  was  yet  alive,  Watt  re- 
ceived from  the  voice  of  the  most  illustrious  of  his  contemporaries 
the  honors  due  to  his  genius.  In  1785,  he  was  elected  a  Fellow  of 
the  Royal  Society ;  the  degree  of  the  Doctor  of  Laws  was  conferred 
upon  him,  by  the  University  of  Glasgow,  in  1806;  and  in  1808  he 
was  elected  a  member  of  the  French  Institute.  He  died  on  the  25th 
of  August,  1819,  in  the  eighty-fourth  year  of  his  age." 


SIR  RICHARD  ARKWRIGHT: 


r  I  "HE  biography  of  James  Watt  having  been  given,  we  now  turn  to 
RICHARD  ARKWRIGHT,  who  was  born  at  Preston,  in  Lancashire, 
England,  on  the  23d  of  December,  1732,  some  ten  months  later  than 
Washington  first  saw  the  light  in  Virginia. 

Arkwright,  from  a  very  humble  origin,  rose  to  affluence  and  distinc- 
tion by  his  perseverance  in  improving  and  perfecting  machinery  adapted 
to  the  cotton  manufacture.  Steam  power  was  made  cheap  and  avail- 
able by  the  inventions  of  Watt ;  so  that  when,  a  few  years  later,  Whit- 
ney had,  by  the  invention  of  the  Cotton-Gin,  made  the  production 
of  Cotton  profitable,  at  a  comparatively  low  price,  the  combination 
resulted  which  has  since  built  up  the  great  manufacturing  towns  of 
Britain  and  the  United  States,  and  brought  into  prominence  those 
who,  for  a  half  century  and  more,  have  been  known  as  the  Cotton 
Lords  of  England,  the  Manufacturers  of  the  New  England  States,  and 
the  Cotton  Planters  of  the  South.  These  great  interests  have  almost 
completely  changed  the  commerce  of  the  world. 

The  parents  of  Arkwright  were  very  poor;  and  he  was  the  youngest 
of  a  family  of  thirteen  children.  The  education  he  received  was  ex- 
tremely limited,  if  indeed  he  was  ever  at  school  at  all.  But  little 
learning  would  probably  be  deemed  necessary  for  the  profession  to 
which  he  was  bred,  that  of  a  barber.  He  followed  this  business  until 
nearly  thirty  years  of  age,  and  during  this  early  period  his  history  is 
hidden  and  obscure  enough. 

About  the  year  1760,  however,  or  soon  after,  he  quit  shaving,  and 
commenced  business  as  an  itinerant  hair-dealer,  collecting  the  com- 
modity by  traveling  up  and  down  the  country;  and  then,  after  he  had 
dressed  it,  selling  it  again  to  the  wig-makers,  with  whom  he  very  soon 
acquired  the  character  of  keeping  a  better  article  than  any  of  his  rivals 
in  the  same  trade.  He  obtained  possession,  too,  we  are  told,  of  the 
then  secret  method  of  dyeing  hair,  by  which  he,  doubtless,  contrived  to 
augment  his  profits;  and,  perhaps,  in  his  accidental  acquaintance 
with  this  little  piece  of  chemistry,  we  may  find  the  germ  of  that  sen- 
sibility he  soon  began  to  manifest  to  the  value  of  new  and  unpub- 

*  Under  the  heading  adopted  for  Part  I,  this  and  the  sketch  of  Whitney,  follow- 
ing it,  are  scarcely  in  place;  the  reader  will  make  due  allowance. 

(21) 


22  SIR    RICHARD    ARK  WRIGHT. 

Hshed  inventions  in  these  arts,  and  his  passion  for  patent-rights  and 
the  pleasures  of  monopoly. 

It  would  appear  that  his  first  effort  in  mechanics,  as  has  happened 
in  the1  case  of  many  other  ingenious  men,  was  an  attempt  to  discover 
the  perpetual  motion.  It  was  on  inquiring  after  a  person  to  make  him 
some  wheels  for  a  project  of  this  kind  that,  in  the  latter  part  of  the 
year  1767,  he  got  acquainted  with  a  clockmaker  of  the  name  of  Kay, 
then  residing  at  Warrington,  with  whom  it  is  certain  that  he  was,  for 
a  considerable  time  after,  closely  connected.  From  this  moment  we 
may  date  his  entrance  upon  a  new  career. 

The  manufacture  of  cotton  cloths  was  introduced  into  England 
only  towards  the  end  of  the  seventeenth  century;  although  stuffs, 
improperly  called  Manchester  Cottons,  had  been  fabricated  nearly 
three  centuries  before,  which,  however,  were  made  entirely  of  wool. 
It  is  generally  thought  that  the  first  attempt  at  the  manufacture  of 
cotton  goods  in  Europe  did  not  take  place  till  the  end  of  the  fifteenth 
century,  Avhen  the  art  was  introduced  into  Italy.  Before  this,  the 
only  cottons  known  had  been  imported  from  the  East  Indies;  where 
alone,  because  of  cheap  labor,  the  cotton  plant  could  be  grown  with 
profit,  until  after  Whitney  invented  the  Cotton-Gin. 

The  English  Cottons,  for  many  years  after  the  introduction  of  the 
manufacture,  had  only  the  weft  of  cotton,  the  warp  or  longitudinal 
threads  of  the  cloth  being  of  linen.  It  was  conceived  to  be  imprac- 
ticable to  spin  the  cotton  with  a  sufficiently  hard  twist  to  make  it 
serviceable  for  this  latter  purpose.  Although  occasionally  exported,  too, 
in  small  quantities,  the  manufactured  goods  were  chiefly  consumed  in 
England.  It  was  not  t\\l  the  year  1760  that  any  considerable  demand 
arose  for  them  abroad. 

But  about  this  time  the  exportation  of  cottons,  both  to  the  Con- 
tinent and  to  America,  began  to  be  carried  on  on  a  large  scale, 
and  the  manufacture,  of  course,  received  a  corresponding  impulse. 
The  thread  had  hitherto  been  spun  entirely  (as  it  still  continues  to 
be  in  India)  by  the  tedious  process  of  the  distaff  and  spindle,  the 
spinner  drawing  out  only  a  single  thread  at  a  time.  But  as  the  de- 
mand for  the  manufactured  article  continued  to  increase,  a  greater 
and  greater  scarcity  of  weft  was  experienced,  till  at  last,  although 
there  were  50,000  spindles  constantly  at  work  in  Lancashire  alone, 
each  occupying  an  individual  spinner,  they  were  found  quite  insuffi- 
cient to  supply  the  quantity  of  thread  required.  The  weavers  gener- 
ally in  those  days  had  the  weft  they  used  spun  for  them  by  the 
females  of  their  family;  and  now  "those  weavers,"  says  Mr.  Guest, 
in  his  history  of  the  Cotton  Manufacture,  "whose  families  could  not 
furnish  the  necessary  supply  of  weft,  had  their  spinning  done  by  their 
neighbors,  and  were  obliged  to  pay  more  for  the  spinning  than  the 
price  allowed  by  their  masters ;  and,  even  with  this  disadvantage,  very 
few  could  procure  weft  enough  to  keep  themselves  constantly  employed. 
It  was  no  uncommon  thing  for  a  weaver  to  walk  three  or  four  miles  in 


HIS     EARLY     POVERTY.  23 

a  morning,  and  call  on  five  or  six  spinners,  before  he  could  collect  weft 
to  serve  him  the  remainder  of  the  day ;  and  when  he  wished  to  weave 
a  piece  in  a  shorter  time  than  usual,  a  new  ribbon  or  gown  was  neces- 
sary to  quicken  the  exertions  of  the  spinner." 

It  was  natural,  in  this  state  of  things,  that  attempts  should  be  made 
to  contrive  some  more  effective  method  of  spinning,  and,  in  fact,  sev- 
eral ingenious  individuals  seem  to  have  turned  their  attention  to  the 
subject.  Long  before  this  time,  indeed,  spinning  had  been  thought 
of  by  more  than  one  speculator.  A  Mr.  Wyatt,  of  Lichfield,  is  stated 
to  have  actually  invented  an  apparatus  for  that  purpose  so  early  as 
the  year  1733,  and  to  have  had  factories  built  and  filled  with  these  ma- 
chines both  at  Birmingham  and  Northampton.  These  undertakings, 
however,  not  being  successful,  the  machines  were  allowed  to  perish, 
and  no  model  or  description  of  them  was  preserved.  There  was  also 
a  Mr.  Laurence  Earnshaw,  of  Motram,  in  Cheshire,  of  whom  "it  is 
recorded,"  says  Mr.  Baines,  in  his  history  of  Lancashire,  "that  in  the 
year  1753,  he  invented  a  machine  to  spin  and  reel  cotton  at  one  opera- 
tion, which  he  showed  to  his  neighbors  and  then  destroyed  it,  through 
the  generous  apprehension  that  he  might  deprive  the  poor  of  bread" — 
a  mistake,  but  a  benevolent  one. 

It  was  in  the  year  1767,  as  we  have  mentioned,  that  Arkwright 
became  acquainted  with  Kay.  In  1768,  the  two  friends  appeared 
together  at  Preston,  and  immediately  began  to  occupy  themselves 
busily  in  the  erection  of  a  machine  for  spinning  cotton  thread,  of 
which  they  had  brought  a  model  with  them.  They  prevailed  upon  a 
Mr.  Smalley,  who  is  described  to  have  been  a  liquor  merchant  and 
painter  of  that  place,  to  join  them  in  their  speculation  ;  and  the  room 
in  which  the  machine  was  fixed  was  the  parlor  of  a  dwelling-house 
attached  to  a  free  grammar-school,  which  Smalley  obtained  from  his 
friend,  the  school-master.  At  this  time  Arkwright  was  so  poor  that, 
an  election  contest  having  taken  place  in  the  town  of  which  he  was 
a  burgess,  it  is  asserted  that  his  friends,  or  party,  were  obliged  to  sub- 
scribe to  get  him  a  decent  suit  of  clothes  before  they  could  bring  him 
into  the  poll-room.  As  soon  as  the  election  was  over,  he  and  Kay  left 
Preston,  and,  carrying  with  them  their  model,  betook  themselves  to  Not- 
tingham, the  apprehension  of  the  hostility  of  the  people  of  Lancashire  to 
the  attempt  he  was  making  to  introduce  spinning  by  machinery,  having, 
as  Arkwright  himself  afterward  stated,  induced  him  to  take  this  step. 
On  arriving  at  Nottingham,  he  first  made  arrangements  with  the  Messrs. 
Wright,  bankers,  for  making  the  necessary  supply  of  capital  ;  but 
they,  after  a  short  time,  having  declined  to  continue  their  advances, 
he  took  his  model  to  Messrs.  Need  &  Strutt,  stocking-weavers  of  the 
place,  the  latter  of  whom  was  a  particularly  ingenious  man,  and  well 
qualified,  from  scientific  acquirements  of  which  he  had  possessed  him- 
self under  many  disadvantages,  to  judge  of  the  adaptation  of  the  new 
machinery  to  its  proposed  object.  An  inspection  of  it  perfectly  satis- 
fied him  of  its  great  value;  and  he  and  Mr.  Need  immediately  agreed 


34  SIR    RICHARD    ARKWRIGHT. 

to  enter  into  partnership  with  Arkwright,  who,  in  1769,  took  out  a 
patent  for  the  machine  as  its  inventor.  A  Spinning  Mill  driven  by 
horse-power  was,  at  the  same  time,  erected,  and  filled  with  the  frames ; 
being,  unless  we  include  those  erected  many  years  before  by  Mr.  Wyatt, 
the  first  works  of  the  kind  that  had  been  known  in  England.  In  1771, 
Arkwright  and  his  partners  established  another  Mill  at  Cromford,  in 
the  parish  of  Wirksworth,  in  Derbyshire,  the  machinery  of  which  was 
set  in  motion  by  a  water-wheel,  and  in  1775  he  took  out  a  second 
patent,  on  additions  which  he  had  made  to  his  original  apparatus. 

In  what  we  have  hitherto  related,  we  have  carefully  confined  our- 
selves to  facts  which  are  universally  acknowledged ;  but  there  are  other 
points  of  the  story  that  have  been  stated  in  very  opposite  ways,  and 
have  given  rise  to  much  doubt  and  dispute. 

The  machinery  for  which  Arkwright  took  out  his  patents  consisted 
of  various  parts,  his  second  specification  enumerating  no  fewer  than 
ten  different  contrivances;  but  of  these,  the  one  that  was  by  far  of 
greatest  importance  was  a  device  for  drawing  out  the  cotton  from  a 
coarse  to  a  finer  and  harder  twisted  thread,  and  so  rendering  it  fit  to 
be  used  for  warp  as  well  as  weft.  This  was  most  ingeniously  managed 
by  the  application  of  a  principle  which  had  not  yet  been  introduced 
into  any  other  mechanical  operation.  The  cotton  was  in  the  first 
place  drawn  off  from  the  skewers,  on  which  it  was  fixed  by  one  pair 
of  rollers,  which  were  made  to  move  at  a  comparatively  slow  rate,  and 
which  formed  it  into  threads  of  the  first  and  coarser  quality;  but  at 
a  little  distance  behind  was  placed  a  second  pair  of  rollers,  revolving 
three,  four,  or  five  times  as  fast,  which  took  it  up  when  it  had  passed 
through  the  others,  the  effect  of  which  would  be  to  reduce  the  thread 
to  a  degree  of  fineness  so  many  times  greater  than  that  which  it  orig- 
inally had.  The  first  pair  of  rollers  might  be  regarded  as  the  feeders 
for  the  second,  which  could  receive  no  more  than  the  others  sent  to 
them;  and  that,  again,  could  be  no  more  than  these  others  themselves 
took  up  from  the  skewers.  As  the  second  pair  of  rollers  therefore  re- 
volved, we  will  say  five  times  for  every  one  revolution  of  the  first  pair, 
or,  which  is  the  same  thing,  required  for  their  consumption  in  a  given 
time  five  times  the  length  of  thread  that  the  first  did,  they  could  obvi- 
ously only  obtain  so  much  length  by  drawing  out  the  common  portion 
of  cotton  into  thread  of  five  times  the  original  fineness.  Nothing 
could  be  more  beautiful  or  more  effective  than  this  contrivance,  which, 
with  an  additional  provision  for  giving  the  proper  twist  to  the  thread, 
constitutes  what  is  called  the  water  frame  or  throstle. 

Of  this  part  of  his  machinery,  Arkwright  particularly  claimed  the 
invention  as  his  own.  He  admitted  with  regard  to  some  of  the  other 
machines  included  in  his  patent,  that  he  was  rather  their  improver 
than  their  inventor;  and  the  original  spinning-machine  for  coarse 
thread,  commonly  called  the  spinning-jinny,  he  frankly  attributed,  in 
its  first  conception,  to  a  person  of  the  name  of  Hargrave,  who  resided 
at  Blackburn,  and  who,  he  said,  having  been  driven  out  of  Lancashire 


'COURAGE    AND     PERSEVERANCE.  25 

in  consequence  of  his  invention,  had  taken  refuge  in  Nottingham,  but, 
unable  to  bear  up  against  a  conspiracy  formed  to  ruin  him,  had  been 
at  last  obliged  to  relinquish  the  further  prosecution  of  his  object,  and 
died  in  obscurity  and  distress. 

There  were,  however,  other  parties  who  had  an  interest  as  well  as 
Arkwright  in  these  new  machines,  and  who  would  not  allow  that  any 
of  them  were  of  his  invention.  As  to  the  principal  of  them,  the 
water-frame,  they  alleged  that  it  was  in  reality  the  invention  of  a 
poor  reed-maker  by  the  name  of  Highs,  or  Hayes,  and  that  Arkwright 
had  obtained  the  knowledge  of  it  from  his  old  associate  Kay,  who 
had  been  employed  by  Highs  to  assist  him  in  constructing  a  model  of 
it  a  short  time  before  Arkwright  had  sought  his  acquaintance.  Many 
cotton-spinners,  professing  to  believe  this  to  be  the  true  state  of  the 
case,  actually  used  Arkwright's  machinery  in  their  factories,  notwith- 
standing the  patent  by  which  he  had  attempted  to  protect  it ;  and 
this  invasion  of  his  monopoly  was  carried  to  such  an  extent,  that  he 
at  last  found  himself  obliged  to  bring  actions  against  no  fewer  than 
nine  different  parties. 

It  would  be  needless  to  enter  here  into  the  history  of  Arkwright's 
legal  contests,  which,  after  varied  success,  he  finally  lost.  Whatever 
conclusion  may  be  come  to  on  the  subject  of  his  claim  to  the  inven- 
tion of  the  machinery  introduced  by  him  into  his  spinning  factories, 
it  is  incontestable  that  to  him  alone  belongs  the  merit  both  of  having 
combined  its  different  parts  with  admirable  ingenuity  and  judgment, 
and  of  having,  by  his  unwearied  and  invincible  perseverance,  first 
brought  it  into  actual  use  on  any  thing  like  an  extensive  scale,  and 
demonstrated  its  power  and  value.  The  several  inventions  which  his 
patent  embraced,  whether  they  were  his  own  or  not,  would  probably 
but  for  him  have  perished  with  their  authors;  none  of  whom  except 
himself  had  the  determination  and  courage  to  face  the  multiplied 
fatigues  and  dangers  that  lay  in  the  way  of  achieving  a  practical  ex- 
emplification of  what  they  had  conceived  in  their  minds,  or  to  en- 
counter any  part  of  that  opposition,  incredulity,  and  ridicule;  of  those 
disappointments,  repulses,  losses,  and  other  discouragements  over  all 
of  which  he  at  last  so  completely  triumphed.  When  he  set  out  on 
this  career,  he  was  poor,  friendless,  and  utterly  unknown.  We  have 
already  stated  that,  on  his  coming  with  Kay  to  Preston,  he  was  almost 
in  rags;  and  it  may  be  added,  that,  when  he  and  Kay  made  applica- 
tion immediately  before  this  to  a  Mr.  Atherton  for  some  pecuniary 
assistance  to  enable  them  to  prosecute  their  plans,  Arkwright's  appear- 
ance alone  was  enough  to  determine  that  gentleman  to  have  nothing 
to  do  with  the  adventure.  Can  we  have  a  more  exciting  example, 
then,  of  what  a  resolute  heart  can  do  under  apparently  the  most  hope- 
less circumstances? — of  what  ingenuity  and  perseverance  together  may 
overcome  in  the  pursuit  of  what  they  are  determined  to  obtain? 
And  this  is  the  grand  lesson  which  the  history  of  Arkwright  is  fitted 
to  teach  us:  to  give  ourselves  wholly  to  one  object,  and  never  to  dc- 


26  SIR    RICHARD    ARK  WRIGHT. 

spair  of  reaching  it.  Even  after  he  had  succeeded  in  forming  his 
partnership  with  Messrs.  Need  &  Strutt,  his  success  was  far  from  being 
secured.  For  a  long  time  the  speculation  was  a  hazardous  and  un- 
profitable one,  and  no  little  outlay  was  required  to  carry  it  on.  He 
tells  us  himself  that  in  his  case  it  did  not  begin  to  pay  till  it  had 
been  persevered  in  for  five  years,  and  had  swallowed  up  a  capital  of 
more  than  twelve  thousand  pounds.  We  can  not  doubt  that  it  re- 
quired all  Arkwright's  dexterity  and  firmness  to  induce  his  partners 
to  persevere  with  the  experiment  under  this  large  expenditure  and 
protracted  disappointment.  But  it  was  the  character  of  the  man  to 
devote  his  whole  heart  and  faculties  to  whatever  he  engaged  in. 
Even  to  the  close  of  his  life,  the  management  of  his  extended  manu- 
facturing operations  was  his  only  occupation,  and  even  amusement. 
Although  he  had  been  from  early  life  afflicted  with  severe  asthma,  he 
took  scarcely  any  recreation,  employing  all  of  his  time  either  in  super- 
intending the  daily  concerns  of  these  establishments,  which  were  regu- 
lated upon  a  plan  that  itself  indicated  in  its  contriver  no  little  ingenuity 
and  reach  of  mind,  or  in  adding  such  improvements  to  his  machinery 
from  time  to  time  as  his  experience  and  observation  suggested.  And 
thus  it  was  that  he  raised  himself  from  a  poor  barber  to  what  he  event- 
ually became — not  merely  a  man  of  rank  and  affluence,  but  the  founder 
of  a  new  branch  of  National  industry,  destined  in  a  wonderfully  short 
space  of  time,  to  assume  the  very  first  place  among  the  manufacturers 
of  his  own  country  and  America. 


ELI  WHITNEY. 


ELI  WHITNEY,  the  Arkwright  of  America,  and  one  of  the  most 
intrepid  and  persevering  improvers  that  ever  lived,  was  the  son 
of  a  respectable  farmer  at  Westborough,  Worcester  County,  Massa- 
chusetts, where  he  was  born  in  the  year  1765.  Very  early,  young 
Eli  gave  striking  indications  of  the  mechanical  genius  for  which  he 
afterwards  was  so  distinguished.  His  education  was  of  a  limited 
character  until  he  reached  the  age  of  nineteen,  when  he  conceived  the 
idea  of  entering  college.  Notwithstanding  the  opposition  of  his 
parents,  he  prepared  himself  for  the  Freshman  class  in  Yale  College, 
which  he  entered  May,  1789,  partly  by  means  of  the  profits  of  his 
manual  labor,  and  partly  by  teaching  a  village  school. 

Soon  after  he  took  his  degree,  in  the  autumn  of  1792,  he  entered 
into  an  engagement  with  a  gentleman  of  Georgia,  to  reside  in  his 
family  as  a  private  teacher.  But  on  his  arrival  in  that  state,  he  found 
that  another  teacher  had  been  employed,  and  he  was  left  entirely 
without  resources.  Fortunately,  however,  among  the  passengers  in 
the  vessel  in  which  he  sailed  was  Mrs.  Greene,  the  widow  of  the 
celebrated  General,  who  had  given  him  an  invitation  to  spend  some 
time  at  her  residence  at  Mulberry  Grove,  near  Savannah :  and  on 
learning  his  disappointment,  she  benevolently  insisted  upon  his  making 
her  house  his  home  until  he  had  prepared  himself  for  the  bar,  as  was 
his  intention. 

Whitney  had  not  been  long  in  her  family  before  a  complete  change 
was  made  in  his  purposes.  A  party  of  gentlemen  on  a  visit  to  Mrs. 
Greene,  having  fallen  into  a  conversation  upon  the  state  of  agricul- 
ture among  them,  expressed  great  regret  that  there  was  no  means  of 
cleansing  the  green  seed-cotton,  or  separating  it  from  its  seed,  remark- 
ing that,  until  ingenuity  could  devise  some  machine  which  would 
greatly  facilitate  the  process  of  cleansing,  it  would  be  in  vain  to 
think  of  raising  cotton  for  the  market.  "Gentlemen,"  said  Mrs. 
Greene,  "  apply  to  my  young  friend,  Mr.  Whitney ;  he  can  make 
any  thing."  She  then  conducted  them  into  a  neighboring  room  where 

(27) 


28  ELI     WHITNEY. 

she  showed  them  a  number  of  specimens  of  his  genius.  The  gentle- 
men were  next  introduced  to  Whitney  himself,  and  when  they  named 
their  object,  he  replied  that  he  had  never  seen  either  cotton  or  cotton 
seed  during  his  life.  But  the  idea  was  engendered ;  and  it  being  out 
of  season  for  cotton  in  the  seed,  he  went  to  Savannah  and  searched 
among  the  warehouses  and  boats  until  he  found  a  small  portion  of  it. 
This  he  carried  home,  and  set  himself  to  work  with  such  rude  materials 
and  instruments  as  a  Georgia  plantation  afforded.  With  these  re- 
sources, however,  he  made  tools  better  suited  to  his  purpose,  and 
forged  his  own  wire,  of  which  the  teeth  of  the  earliest  gins  were  made, 
which  was  an  article  not  at  that  time  to  be  found  in  the  market  of 
Savannah.  Mrs.  Greene  and  Mr.  Miller  (a  gentleman  who  having 
first  come  into  the  family  of  General  Greene  as  a  private  tutor,  after- 
ward married  his  widow)  were  the  only  persons  admitted  to  his 
workshop — who  knew  in  what  way  he  was  employing  himself.  The 
many  hours  he  spent  in  his  mysterious  pursuits  afforded  matter  of 
great  curiosity,  and  often  railery  to  the  younger  members  of  the  fam- 
ily. Near  the  close  of  the  winter  the  machine  was  so  nearly  completed 
as  to  leave  no  doubt  of  its  success.  Mrs.  Greene  then  invited  to  her 
house  gentlemen  from  different  parts  of  the  State,  and  on  the  first 
day  after  they  had  assembled  she  conducted  them  to  a  temporary 
building  which  had  been  erected  for  the  machine,  and  they  saw  with 
astonishment  and  delight,  that  more  cotton  could  be  separated  from 
the  seed  in  one  day,  by  the  labor  of  a  single  hand,  than  could  be  done 
in  the  usual  manner  in  the  space  of  many  months. 

The  machine  which  Mr.  Whitney  thus  constructed,  consisted  chiefly 
of  a  process  of  circular  saws,  which,  by  a  rotary  motion,  dragged  the 
cotton  between  wires,  leaving  the  seeds  to  fall  to  the  bottom,  while 
the  cotton  so  cleaned  was  carried  off  by  a  rotary  brush  playing  upon 
the  saws.  An  invention  so  important  to  the  agricultural  interests  as 
it  has  proved  to  every  department  of  human  industry,  could  not  long 
remain  a  secret.  The  knowledge  of  it  soon  spread  through  the  state, 
and  so  great  was  the  excitement  on  the  subject,  that  multitudes  of  per- 
sons came  from  all  quarters  to  see  the  machine :  but  it  was  not  deemed 
prudent  to  gratify  their  curiosity  until  the  patent-right  had  been 
secured.  So  determined,  however,  were  some  of  the  populace  to  pos- 
sess this  treasure,  that  neither  law  nor  justice  could  restrain  them.  They 
broke  open  the  building  by  night  and  carried  off  the  machine.  In  this 
way  the  public  became  possessed  of  the  invention ;  and  before  Mr. 
Whitney  could  complete  his  model  and  secure  his  patent,  a  number 
of  machines  were  in  successful  operation,  constructed  with  some  slight 
deviation  from  the  original,  with  the  hope  of  evading  the  penalty  for 
violating  the  patent-right.  A  short  time  after  this  he  entered  into 
partnership  with  Mr.  Miller,  who,  having  considerable  funds  at  com- 
mand, proposed  to  him  to  become  his  joint  adventurer,  and  to  be  at 
the  whole  expense  of  maturing  the  invention  until  it  should  be 
patented.  If  the  machine  succeeded  in  its  intended  operation,  the 


VALUE    OF    THE    COTTON-GIN.  29 

parties  agreed  to  share  equally  all  the  profits  and  advantages  accru- 
ing from  it.     The  instrument  of  their  partnership  bears  date  May 


Immediately  afterward  Mr.  Whitney  repaired  to  Connecticut,  where, 
as  far  as  possible,  he  was  to  perfect  the  machine,  obtain  a  patent,  and 
manufacture  and  ship  for  Georgia  such  a  number  of  machines  as  would 
supply  the  demand.  On  June  20,  1793,  he  presented  his  petition  for 
a  patent  to  Mr.  Jefferson,  then  secretary  of  state  ;  but  the  prevalence 
of  yellow  fever  in  Philadelphia,  at  that  period  the  seat  of  govern- 
ment, prevented  his  concluding  the  business  until  several  months 
afterward.  We  have  not  space  sufficient  at  our  disposal  to  give  a  sat- 
isfactory detail  of  the  obstacles  and  misfortunes  which  for  a  long  time 
hindered  the  partners  from  reaping  those  advantages  from  the  inven- 
tion which  it  should  have  procured  for  them,  and  which  they  had  an 
ample  right  to  expect.  These  difficulties  arose  principally  from  the 
innumerable  violations  of  their  patent-right,  by  which  they  were  in- 
volved in  various,  almost  interminable,  lawsuits.  The  legislature  of 
South  Carolina  purchased,  in  1801,  their  right  for  that  state  for  the 
sum  of  fifty  thousand  dollars  —  a  mere  "  song,"  to  use  Whitney's 
own  phrase,  in  comparison  with  the  worth  of  the  thing  ;  but  it  was  secur- 
ing something.  It  enabled  them  to  pay  the  debts  which  they  had 
contracted,  and  divide  something  between  .  them.  In  the  following 
year,  Mr.  Whitney  negotiated  a  sale  of  his  patent-right  with  the 
state  of  North  Carolina,  the  legislature  of  which  laid  a  tax  of  two 
shillings  and  sixpence  upon  every  saw  (and  some  of  the  gins  had  forty 
saws)  employed  in  ginning  cotton,  to  be  continued  for  five  years, 
which  sum  was  to  be  collected  by  the  Sheriffs  in  the  same  manner  as 
the  public  taxes,  and  after  deducting  the  expenses  of  collection,  the 
proceeds  were  faithfully  paid  over  to  the  patentees.  No  small  por- 
tion, however,  of  the  funds  thus  obtained  in  the  two  Carolinas  was 
expended  in  carrying  on  the  fruitless  lawsuits  which  it  was  deemed 
necessary  to  prosecute  in  Georgia.  A  gentleman  who  was  well  ac- 
quainted with  Mr.  Whitney's  affairs  in  the  South,  and  sometimes 
acted  as  his  legal  adviser,  observed,  that,  in  all  his  experience  in  the 
thorny  profession  of  law,  he  had  never  seen  a  case  of  such  persever- 
ance under  such  persecution:  "Nor,"  he  adds,  "do  I  believe  that 
I  ever  knew  any  other  man  who  would  have  met  them  with  equal 
coolness  and  firmness,  or  who  would  have  obtained  even  the  partial 
success  which  he  had." 

There  have  indeed  been  but  few  instances  in  which  the  author 
of  such  inestimable  advantages  to  a  whole  country  as  those  which 
accrued  from  the  invention  of  the  cotton  gin  to  the  Southern  States, 
was  so  harshly  treated,  and  so  inadequately  compensated,  as  the  sub- 
ject of  this  sketch.  He  did  not  exaggerate  when  he  said  it  raised 
the  value  of  those  states  from  fifty  to  one  hundred  per  cent.  "  If 
we  should  assert,"  said  Judge  Johnson,  "that  the  benefits  of  this 
invention  exceed  one  hundred  millions  of  dollars,  we  can  prove  the 


30  E  L  I    \V  H  I  T  N  E  Y. 

assertion  by  correct  calculation."  Besides  the  violations  of  his  right, 
he  had  to  struggle  against  the  efforts  of  malevolence  and  self  interest 
to  deprive  him  of  the  honor  of  the  invention,  which  he  did  triumph- 
antly. In  1803,  the  entire  responsibility  of  the  whole  concern 
devolved  upon  him,  in  consequence  of  the  death  of  Mr.  Miller. 
In  1812,  he  made  application  to  Congress  for  the  renewal  of  his 
patent.  In  his  memorial,  he  presented  a  history  of  the  difficulties 
which  he  had  been  forced  to  encounter  in  defense  of  his  right,  ob- 
serving that  he  had  been  unable  to  .obtain  any  decision  on  the  merits 
of  his  claim  until  he  had  been  eleven  years  in  the  law,  and  thirteen 
years  of  patent  term  had  expired.  He  set  forth  that  his  invention 
had  been  a  source  of  opulence  to  thousands  of  the  citizens  of  the 
United  States :  that  as  a  labor-saving  machine,  it  would  enable  one 
man  to  perform  the  work  of  a  thousand  men ;  and  that  it  furnishes 
to  the  whole  family  of  mankind,  at  a  very  cheap  rate,  the  most 
essential  article  of  their  clothing.  Hence,  he  humbly  conceived 
himself  entitled  to  a  farther  remuneration  from  his  country,  and 
thought  he  ought  to  be  admitted  to  a  more  liberal  participation  with 
his  fellow-citizens  to  the  benefits  of  his  invention.  It  strikes  us  with 
no  little  surprise,  that  the  Southern  planters,  gentlemen  who  enjoy 
a  great  and  just  reputation  for  elevation  and  generosity  of  character, 
should  not  have  taken  some  means  of  conveying  to  Mr.  Whitney 
an  adequate  and  substantial  testimony  of  the  gratitude  which  they 
must  have  felt  toward  one  to  whom  they  were  so  incalculably  indebted. 
So  far,  however,  from  this  having  been  the  case,  even  the  application 
just  mentioned  was  rejected  by  Congress,  on  account  of  the  warm  op- 
position it  experienced  from  a  majority  of  the  southern  members. 

Some  years  before,  in  1798,  Mr.  Whitney,  impressed  with  the  un- 
certainty of  all  his  hopes  founded  on  the  cotton-gin,  had  engaged  in 
another  enterprise,  which  conducted  him  by  slow  but  sure  steps  to  a 
competent  fortune.  This  was  the  manufacture  of  arms  for  the  United 
States.  He  first  obtained  a  contract  through  the  influence  of  Oliver 
Wolcott,  at  that  time  Secretary  of  the  Treasury,  for  ten  thousand 
stand  of  arms,  amounting  to  one  hundred  and  thirty-four  thousand 
dollars,  which  was  to  be  fulfilled  within  a  little  more  than  two  years. 
This  was  a  great  undertaking,  as  may  be  inferred  from  the  facts,  that 
the  works  were  all  to  be  erected,  the  machinery  was  to  be  made,  and 
much  of  it  to  be  invented ;  the  raw  materials  were  to  be  collected 
from  different  quarters,  and  the  workmen  themselves,  almost  without  ex- 
ception, were  yet  to  learn  the  trade.  The  impediments  he  was  obliged 
to  remove  were  too  numerous  and  great  to  allow  him  to  fulfill  his  stip- 
ulation as  to  time,  and  eight  years  instead  of  two  elapsed  before  the 
muskets  were  all  completed.  The  entire  business  relating  to  the  con- 
tract was  not  closed  until  January,  1809,  when  (so  liberally  had  the 
government  made  advances  to  the  contractor)  the  final  balance  due 
Mr.  Whitney  was  only  two  thousand  four  hundred  dollars.  It  is 
universally  conceded  that  his  superior  genius  and  industry  greatly 


HIS    DEATH.  31 

contributed  to  the  improvement  of  the  manufacture  of  arms,  and 
indeed  to  the  general  advancement  of  arts  and  manufactures;  for 
many  of  his  inventions  for  facilitating  the  making  of  muskets  were 
applicable  to  most  other  manufactures  of  iron  and  steel. 

In  1812,  he  entered  into  a  new  contract  with  the  United  States  for 
fifteen  thousand  stand  of  arms,  and  in  the  meantime  executed  a  simi- 
lar engagement  for  the  State  of  New  York.  In  January,  1817,  he 
married  the  youngest  daughter  of  Pierpofit  Edwards,  late  Judge  of 
the  District  Court  for  the  State  of  Connecticut.  For  the  five  subse- 
quent years  he  continued  to  enjoy  domestic  happiness,  a  competent 
fortune,  and  an  honorable  reputation,  when  he  was  attacked  by  a 
fatal  malady,  an  enlargement  of  the  prostate  gland,  which,  after  causing 
great  and  protracted  suffering,  terminated  his  life  on  the  8th  of  Janu- 
ary, 1825.  In  person,  Mr.  Whitney  was  considerably  above  the 
ordinary  size,  of  a  dignified  carriage,  and  of  an  open,  manly,  and 
agreeable  countenance.  His  manners  were  conciliatory,  and  his 
whole  appearance  such  as  to  inspire  respect.  He  possessed  great 
serenity  of  temper,  though  he  had  strong  feelings  and  a  high  sense  of 
honor.  Perseverance  was  a  striking  trait  in  his  character.  Every 
thing  that  he  attempted  he  effected  as  far  as  possible. 

In  the  relations  of  private  life,  he  enjoyed  the  affection  and  esteem 
of  all  with  whom  he  was  connected. 


JOHN  FITCH. 


'T^HROUGH  the  power  of  steam,  great  changes  have  been  wrought 
in  the  relations  of  states  and  in  the  commerce  of  the  world  ; 
the  ends  of  the  earth  have,  in  a  large  sense,  been  brought  together. 
By  this  power  rapid,  comfortable,  and  cheap  transit  has  been  attained, 
and  enjoyed  for  a  half  century,  by  the  nations  of  Europe,  and  more 
especially  by  our  own  people.  In  traversing  the  ocean,  and  to  a  greater 
extent  upon  our  own  great  inland  seas,  and  in  threading  the  great 
rivers  of  our  central  valley,  America  has  reaped  the  benefits  conferred 
by  steam  navigation.  By  the  aid  of  this  agent,  and  largely  because 
of  it,  our  large  territories  have  been  magically  transformed  into  great 
and  magnificent  states,  covered  with  towns  and  cities,  and  filled  with 
the  comfortable  homes  of  a  great  and  free  people. 

Therefore,  all  Americans  must  feel  deeply  interested  in  knowing 
who  first  made  steam  available  for  purposes  of  locomotion.  With 
slight  exceptions,  two  entire  generations  have  given  the  first  place  to  a 
distinguished  name  among  her  sons,  which  should  take  a  secondary 
position  on  the  roll  of  honor.  Why  this  has  been  so,  in  the  face  of 
facts  known  to  many  men  filling  the  highest  places  in  the  history  of 
our  country,  will  be  to  our  readers,  as  it  is  to  us,  a  mystery  not  easily 
solved.  Fifty-five  years  ago,  in  the  year  1817,  the  original  patents, 
drafts,  specifications,  and  models  of  Fitch  and  Fulton  were  exhibited 
before  a  committee  of  the  New  York  Legislature,  raised  upon  the 
petition  of  Governor  Ogden,  of  New  Jersey.  Many  witnesses  were 
examined,  and  among  them  men  of  the  highest  character,  and  the 
arguments  of  able  council  were  heard.  After  much  deliberation,  this 
committee  reported  to  the  legislature,  and  in  the  document  submitted 
are  the  following  expressions  :  "  The  steamboats  built  by  Livingston 
and  Fulton  were  in  substance  the  invention  patented  to  John  Fitch, 
in  1791,  and  Fitch,  during  the  term  of  his  patent  (fourteen  years), 
had  the  exclusive  right  to  use  the  same  in  the  United  States." 

We  now  proceed  to  sketch  the  career  of  this  remarkable  person, 
a  career  filled  with  unusual  incidents.  John  Fitch  was  the  fifth 
child  of  Joseph  and  Sarah  Fitch,  and  was  born  January  zist,  1743,  at 
(32) 


HIS     DESIRE     FOR      EDUCATION.  33 

thepaternaf  homestead,  in  the  township  of  Windsor,  Hartford  Count}', 
Connecticut.  The  father  was  not  inclined  to  liberality,  but  was  a 
rigid  and  stern  man,  who,  as  his  son  says,  "always  had  plenty  of 
victuals  in  the  house."  John  began  his  attendance  at  school  when 
quite  young,  and,  when  nine  years  old,  had  mastered  the  "  fundamental 
rules"  of  arithmetic,  and  manifested  a  strong  love  for  study;  yet  he 
was  taken  from  school,  and  although  so  small  as  to  be  unable  to 
"swingle  more  than  two  pounds  of  flax,  or  thrash  more  than  two 
bushels  of  grain  in  a  day,"  was  put  at  this  "pitiful,  trifling  labor," 
greatly  to  his  disgust  in  later  years,  because  he  felt  that  he  had  been 
unreasonably  deprived  of  the  benefits  of  such  an  education  as  might 
easily  have  been  given  him. 

At  the  age  of  eleven,  he  heard  of  Salmon's  Geography,  as  a  book 
that  would  furnish  "  information  of  the  whole  world,"  and  asked  his 
father  to  buy  it  for  him ;  but  he  did  not  feel  disposed  to  make  the 
purchase.  John,  however,  soon  after,  obtained  permission  to  plant 
potatoes  on  small  patches  of  ground  not  otherwise  occupied,  and  at 
odd  ends  of  time  and  on  holidays  cultivated  them,  and  thus  procured 
the  desired  treasure.  He  became  thoroughly  versed  in  its  contents, 
and  able  to  impart  his  knowledge  of  nations,  .their  population,  boun- 
daries, towns,  etc.  His  father  instructed  him  in  surveying  to  the  ex- 
tent of  his  own  information.  Among  their  neighbors  was  Governor 
Wolcott,  father  of  Oliver  Wolcott,  afterwards  one  of  the  signers  of 
the  Declaration  of  Independence.  One  day  the  governor  asked  his 
father  if  John  might  carry  the  chain  for  him  while  making  some  sur- 
veys on  his  farm,  and  John  was  thereby  much  elevated  in  his  own 
estimation,  especially  because  of  the  deference  paid  by  the  governor 
to  his  suggestions.  They  were  together  two  days  or  more,  so  that 
John  expected  pay;  but  in  this  he  was  disappointed,  as  the  old  gentle- 
man was  too  saving  of  his  means,  to  meet  his  wishes.  John  attended 
school  for  six  months  in  his  thirteenth  year,  but,  for  several  years 
previous,  had  but  about  a  month  at  school  each  year.  At  fifteen  he 
was  hired  out  by  his  father  for  one  winter,  at  eleven  shillings  a 
month. 

At  the  age  of  seventeen,  becoming  weary  and  disgusted  with  farm 
labor,  he  started  for  Rocky  Hill,  on  the  Connecticut  River,  on  an 
agreement  to  make  one  voyage  to  New  York,  in  a  vessel  under  the 
command  of  Capt.  Abbott ;  but,  experiencing  rough  treatment  at  the 
hands  of  the  mate,  he  quit  the  craft  before  leaving  port,  and  engaged 
on  another  vessel,  in  which  he  coasted,  and  after  five  weeks  returned 
home. 

This  trip  was  a  pleasant  one  for  him,  so  that,  when  solicited  by  one 
Cheney  to  become  his  apprentice  and  learn  the  business  of  clock- 
making,  he  felt  undecided  as  to  whether  to  make  another  venture  to 
sea  or  learn  the  trade.  Finally  his  indentures  were  duly  executed, 
with  the  understanding  that  he  should  furnish  his  own  clothes  and 
work  half  the  year  at  farm  labor.  His  brother-in-law  supplied  him 
3 


34  JOHN     FITCH. 

with  the  clothes,  and  his  preceptor  in  clock-making  was  equal  to  his 
utmost  demands  for  "  outside  work."  He  was  eighteen  years  old  when 
he  became  an  apprentice,  and  at  the  end  of  two  years  had  spent 
more  than  two-thirds  of  his  time  at  other  labor  than  clock-work. 
Much  of  his  time  had  been  spent  at  "trifling,  pottering  brass-work," 
so  that  he  became  dissatisfied,  and  at  the  end  of  two  years  and  a  half, 
by  a  mutual  understanding,  left  Benjamin,  and  went  to  live  with  his 
brother,  Timothy  Cheney,  who  was  to  teach  him  "brass  and  wooden 
clock-making  and  watch-making."  At  the  former  place  he  had  taken 
dinner  from  the  same  pot  of  bean  soup  for  nine  consecutive  days 
without  being  molested;  but  his  new  master  "was  a  very  small 
feeder,"  and  constantly  imveighing  against  gluttony.  His  wife  was 
"a  pretty  sensible,  good  kind  of  a  woman,"  and  supplied  her  table 
well,  while  the  family  always  ate  as  "quick  as  him,"  who  was  ever 
prompt  to  close  the  meal  by  returning  thanks.  After  eight  months' 
service,  in  which  he  was  working  brass  from  sunrise  to  ten  o'clock  at 
night,  he  complained  of  injustice,  and  quarreled  with  his  employer, 
who  finally  released  him  from  his  bond  to  stay  a  year,  upon  the  condi- 
tion that  he  should  pay  87. ,  which  was  adjusted  by  the  joint  note  of 
his  brother  and  brother-in-law. 

At  twenty-one,  John  Fitch  found  himself  in  debt  2O/.,  and  without 
knowledge  of  either  clock  or  watch-making.  With  twenty  shillings 
loaned  him  by  a  young  man  named  Burnham,  who  was  courting  his 
sister,  he  resolved  to  start  business  as  an  artificer  in  small  brass-work. 
His  father  boarded  him  the  first'  month  without  pay.  He  was  suc- 
cessful in  paying  his  debts,  and  at  the  end  of  two  years  was  out  of 
debt  and  worth  5o/.  During  this  tim%  he  had  acquired  some  knowledge 
of  brass  clocks,  and  had  successfully  cleaned  and  repaired  a  clock  for 
one  of  the  Wolcott  family. 

Soon  he  was  induced  to  enter  a  partnership  with  two  poorer  young 
men  than  himself,  who  were  ^manufacture  potash,  while  he  managed 
his  business  in  brass-work  ;  but  it  became  necessary  for  him  to  quit 
his  own  business  and  endeavor  to  save  his  investment  in  the  potash 
works,  which  were  twenty-five  miles  away  from  his  father's  home. 
He  bought  out  his  partners,  but  did  not  succeed  in  making  his  new 
business  profitable.  In  the  mean  time  he  courted,  and  on  the  2gth  of 
December,  1766,  married  Lucy  Roberts,  who  was  several  years 
his  senior,  and  the  daughter  of  a  man  of  property.  Fitch  built  a 
shop  for  brass-work,  which  proved  larger  and  more  expensive  than 
was  requisite,  or  than  he  could  pay  for,  without  extra  efforts ;  but 
finally  he  disentangled  himself  from  embarrassments. 

Meanwhile,  "his  wife  was  high-tempered,"  and  although  he  avers 
"he  never  gave  her  an  angry  word,"  he  was  continually  subject  to 
her  displeasure.  Becoming  convinced  that  he  could  not  live  happily 
with  her.  and,  after  repeatedly  stating  to  his  wife  that  she  musf  restrain 
her  temper,  or  he  would  be  forced  to  leave  her,  he  finally  left  their 
home,  against  her  warm  and  urgent  entreaties  to  remain  with  herself 


A     GUNSMITH     IN    THE    REVOLUTION.  35 

and  infant  son.  Their  son,  Shaler  Fitch,  was  born  November  20", 
1767,  and  their  daughter,  Lucy,  after  the  father's  departure  in  1769. 
After  working  in  the  State  of  New  York  three  months,  Fitch  traveled 
by  land,  making  money  as  he  went,  in  cleaning  clocks  ;  by  the  way 
of  Elizabeth — town,  Rahway,  New  Brunswick,  and  Princeton,  he 
reached  Trenton,  New  Jersey,  in  May  1769. 

At  Trenton,  Fitch  was  employed  by  a  tinner  to  make  a  quantity  of 
brass  buttons,  which  he  accomplished  under  difficulties.  His  em- 
ployer, Clunn,  had  an  old  watch  which  he  successfully  repaired. 
This  increased  his  confidence,  so  that,  by  the  aid  of  his  friend,  Clunn, 
he  found  employment  with  a  silversmith  of  limited  acquirements  in 
his  profession,  who*  had  a  fine  set  of  tools,  but  was  without  skill  to 
use  them. 

By  his  ingenuity  and  application,  Fitch  soon  possessed  himself  of 
the  trade';  but  business  in  the  shop  was  dull,  and  he  thought  best  to 
itinerate  as  a  peddler  in  the  surrounding  districts.  He  started  off  with 
fifty  or  sixty  pairs  of  brass  sleeve-buttons,  which  he  sold  for  lod.  per 
pair,  and  during  his  trip  of  a  fortnight  cleaned  a  dozen  clocks.  Re- 
turning to  Trenton,  he  manufactured  for  himself  a  lot  of  silver  and 
brass  buttons,  with  which  he  started  out  again  in  two  weeks,  and  suc- 
ceeded admirably. 

His  recent  employer,  Wilson,  getting  embarrassed,  Fitch  bought 
his  tools  for  4o/.,  and  paid  307.  down  in  cash.  He  pursued  his  busi- 
ness by  trips  through  the  country,  often  carrying  a  budget  of  2oo/. 
value,  and  thus  increased  his  means  until,  at  the  breaking  out  of  the 
Revolution,  he  estimated  his  assets  at  8oo/. 

The  Committee  of  Safety  of  the  Province  of  New  Jersey  solicited  the 
services  of  Fitch  as  a  gunsmith,  after  he  had  become  first  lieutenant 
of  the  first  company  raised  in  Trenton.  During  the  summer  of  1776, 
Fitch  was  called  upon  for  arms  to  supply  the  militia,  ordered  on  an 
expedition  to  Amboy,  and  was  under  the  necessity  of  soliciting  from 
the  owners  all  the  arms  to  be  had  by  their  consent ;  but  he  soon  was 
unwittingly  involved  in  a  quarrel,  which  was  mortifying  to  him,  so 
that  he  abandoned  his  comrades  in  the  expedition,  and  returned  to 
Trenton,  where  his  presence  was  much  needed.  He  was  of  infinitely 
more  service  to  the  State  in  the  gun -factory  than  he  could  have  been 
in  the  field. 

He  afterwards  pursued  his  business  in  Bucks  County,  Pennsylvania, 
but  his  $40,000  in  continental  money  was  of  no  greater  value  than 
$100  in  specie.  He  determined  that  he  would  save  his  money  by 
buying  land-warrants  in  Virginia,  and  for  that  purpose  left  Bucks 
County  in  the  spring  of  1780,  for  Philadelphia,  where  he  obtained 
from  Dr.  John  Ewing,  of  the  University  of  Pennsylvania,  letters  of 
recommendation  to  Dr.  Madison,  then  president  of  William  and  Mary 
College,  at  Richmond,  Virginia.  He  journeyed  to  Richmond  on 
foot,  through  a  country  desolated  by  war,  and  from  Richmond  west 
was  accompanied  by  William  Tucker,  whom  he  had  engaged  to  assist 


36  JOHN     FITCH. 

him  in  his  surveys  of  lands,  which  he  intended  to  locate  in  what  is 
now  known  as  Kentucky.  After  many  weeks  and  much  fatigue,  he 
found  himself,  in  the  early  summer  of  1 780,  at  Wheeling  Island.  His 
trip  down  the  Ohio  River  was  not  without  exciting  adventures.  In 
company  with  a  Baptist  preacher,  named  Barnard,  who  explored  for 
him,  he  located  some  sixteen  hundred  acres  of  land.  He  returned 
to  Virginia  from  Kentucky  in  the  spring  of  1781.  His  returns  of 
survey  were  filed  at  Richmond,  but  his  patents  were  not  issued  until 
the  following  year;  one  bore  the  date  June  ist,  1782,  and  two 
others  September  ist,  1782.  On  his  return  from  his  western  trip, 
Fitch  went  to  his  old  home  in  Bucks  County,  to  collect,  and  settle 
up  his  old  business. 

He  finally  decided  to  take  his  money — about  i5o/.,  in  specie — and 
invest  it  in  flour,  at  Fort  Pitt, — now  Pittsburgh, — and  go  down  the 
Ohio  and  Mississippi  to  New  Orleans,  intending  to  return  from  there 
to  Philadelphia.  Early  in  March,  1782,  he  reached  Fort  Pitt,  and 
proceeded  to  carry  out  his  plans,  by  chartering,  in  company  with 
several  others,  a  boat  commanded  by  Captain  Patterson.  They 
started  on  their  voyage  with  nine  men  besides  the  Captain,  but  were 
attacked  by  Indians,  while  aground,  near  the  mouth  of  the  Muskingum. 
One  or  two  of  their  number  were  shot,  and  the  rest  made  captives. 

After  many  months  of  adventure  among  the  tribes  of  Ohio,  during 
the  great  excitement  which  followed  the  wholesale  slaughter  by  the 
whites  of  the  Christian  (Moravian)  Indians,  the  party  reached  the 
Maumee  River,  and  soon  after  arrived  at  Detroit.*  They  were  passed 
into  the  hands  of  the  British  as  prisoners  of  war,  and  were  sent  below 
Niagara  to  Prison  Island,  forty-five  miles  above  Montreal,  in  the 
early  summer  of  1782.  They  were  exchanged  in  the  autumn,  leaving 
Quebec,  November  25,  and  arriving  in  New  York  on  Christmas,  1782. 
When  the  ship  cast  anchor,  he  and  his  fellow-prisoners  had  been  ten 
weeks  on  the  route  from  Prison  Island.  When  discharged,  he  went 
directly  to  his  friends  in  Warminster,  Pennsylvania. 

Fitch  succeeded  in  interesting  several  gentlemen,  who  formed  a 
Company,  and  sent  him  with  others  to  survey  lands  on  the  Northern 
side  of  the  Ohio,  1783.  They  began  near  the  mouth  of  the  Hocking 
River,  and  surveyed  (up  the  river  some  eighty  or  ninety  miles)  about 
36,000  acres ;  after  this  a  greater  number  of  acres  were  located,  and 
the  party  returned  to  Philadelphia. 

Colonel  Whittlesey  tells  us  that  Fitch  joined  the  Bristol  (Pa.)  Lodge 
of  Freemasons  in  January,  1 783.  His  associates  in  the  land  venture 
were  satisfied  with  the  results  of  his  former  trip,  and  induced  him  to 
start  out  early  that  year.  He  began  surveying,  up  the  Muskingum,  in 

*  The  sketch  we  give  of  Fitch  is  simply  to  show  his  connection  with  the  inven- 
tion of  the  Steam-boat.  Our  readers  who  feel  interested  in  his  adventures,  will 
find  them  in  Westcott's  Life  of  John  Fitch,  published  by  Lippincott,  Philadelphia, 
1857.  We  have  condensed  our  Narrative  mainly  from  that  work. 


HIS     FIRST    THOUGHTS    ON    STEAM-BOATS.  37 

March,  1783,  and  went  a  distance  of  seventy-five  miles  from  its 
mouth.  On  this  trip  250,000  acres  were  surveyed,  and  he  felt  sure 
that  one  day  he  would  be  "a  man  of  fortune;"  but  on  his  return  to 
Bucks  County,  he  learned  that  Congress  had  recently  passed  resolu- 
tions, "that  the  North-Western  Territory  should  be  divided  into 
States,  and  that  all  lands  should  be  laid  out  at  right  angles,  and  in 
sections  of  one  mile  square,  and  should  in  that  manner  be  located." 
He  felt  that  his  plans  were  in  a  measure  frustrated;  he,  however, 
deemed  it  judicious  to  go  again  to  the  frontiers,  and  "re-survey,  or 
rather  note  the  most  valuable  sections."  General  Harrison,  then 
Governor,  issued  a  proclamation  aimed  at  Fitch's  movements,  but  its 
effect  was  to  deter  later  adventurers,  and  therefore  benefit  Fitch's 
Company,  which  had  already  done  its  work. 

On  his  return  to  Eastern  Pennsylvania,  Fitch  petitioned  Congress 
for  an  appointment  as  Surveyor  in  the  western  country,  backed  by 
the  reputable  names  of  some  of  his  associates ;  but,  trusting  too  much 
to  his  attainments,  he  was  not  attentive  to  pushing  his  claims,  and 
therefore  was  distanced  by  another.  While  awaiting  the  result  of 
his  application,  he  busied  himself  in  making  improvements  on 
Hutchin's  and  Morrow's  maps  of  the  North-Western  country,  which 
draft  he  engraved  on  a  sheet  of  copper,  hammered  and  polished  by 
himself.  The  map,  he  speaks  of,  as  "coarsely  done,  portable  to  any 
one  who  wanted  to  go  to  the  woods,  and  more  to  be  relied  on  than 
any  published." 

Colonel  Charles  Whittlesey,  whose  life  of  Fitch  in  the  second 
series  of  Sparks'  American  Biography  has  already  been  alluded  to, — 
whose  West-Point  education  and  large  experience  as  a  Surveyor,  give 
his  opinions  great  weight, — says  of  this  map,  that  "the  general  posi- 
tions of  the  great  rivers  and  lakes  are  given  with  surprising  accuracy." 
He  quotes  the  remarks  of  Fitch,  to  show  the  singular  shrewdness  of  the 
man,  and  his  extensive  knowledge  of  the  country. 

During  the  early  part  of  1785,  Fitch  seems  to  have  been  suffering 
from  rheumatism,  and  while  making  slow  progress  in  walking  with  a 
friend  in  Bucks  County,  an  acquaintance  passed  them  at  a  rapid 
pace,  in  a  two-wheeled  vehicle,  then  known  as  "a  chair."  The 
speed  of  the  horse,  brought  up  in  conversation  some  speculations 
which  he  had  no  doubt  previously  entertained  respecting  the  feasi- 
bility of  propelling  carriages  by  steam.  The  rough  condition  of  the 
roads,  and  the  apparently  greater  benefits  to  be  derived  by  applying 
the  power  to  vessels,  soon  turned  his  thoughts  to  "a  steam-boat." 
These  facts  were  certified  to  in  1788,  by  James  Scout,  to  whom  Fitch 
submitted  his  plan  of  a  boat  in  May  or  June,  1 785 ;  and  also  by 
James  Ogilbee,  the  friend  with  whom  he  was  walking  when  the  thought 
of  steam  power  was  first  spoken  of.  Watson's  Annals  of  Phila- 
delphia gives  some  facts  furnished  by  Daniel  Longstreth,  whose 
father  was  the  friend  and  associate  of  Fitch.  He  says:  "It  was  in 


38  JOHNFITCH. 

Cobe  Scout's  log  shop  that   Fitch  made  his  model  steam-boat,  with 
paddle-wheels,  as  they  are  now  used." 

The  model  was  tried  on  a  small  stream  on  Joseph  Longstreth's 
meadow,  about  a  half  mile  from  Davisville,  in  Southampton  Town- 
ship, and  it  realized  every  expectation.  The  machinery  was  made 
of  brass,  with  the  exception  of  the  paddle-wheels,  which  were  made 
of  wood  by  Nathaniel  B.  Boileau,  whilst  on  a  visit,  during  vacation, 
from  Princeton  College."*  Colonel  Whittlesey  says:  "The  buckets 
of  the  wheels  were  found  to  labor  too  much  in  the  water,  entering  as 
they  did  at  a  considerable  angle,  and  departing  at  the  same.  They 
lost  power  by  striking  at  the  surface,  and  afterwards  lifting  themselves 
out  of  water.  This  led  to  the  substitution  of  oiars  or  paddles." 

After  due  reflection  Fitch,  with  his  small  resources,  determined,  if 
possible,  to  obtain  aid  from  Congress, — a  forlorn  hope  in  those  straitened 
times.  He  procured  various  letters  commending  his  invention.  One 
from  his  friend,  Dr.  John  Ewing,  of  the  University  of  Pennsylvania, 
bears  date  Philadelphia,  2oth  August,  1785,  from  which  we  take  these 
words:  "I  have  examined  Mr.  Fitch's  machine  for  rowing  a  boat  by 
the  alternate  operation  of  steam  and  the  atmosphere,  and  am  of 
opinion  that  his  principles  are  proper,  and  philosophical,  and  have  no 
doubt  of  the  success  of  the  scheme,  if  executed  by  a  skillful  workman. 
.  .  The  application  of  this  force  (steam)  to  turn  a  -wheel  in  the 
water,  so  as  to  answer  the  purpose  of  oars,  seems  easy  and  natural 
by  the  machine  which  he  proposes,  and  of  which  he  has  shown  me  a 
rough  model.  .  .  I  hope  he  will  meet  with  the  encouragement  which 
his  mechanical  genius  deserves.  His  project  deserves  a  trial,"  etc. 

Congress  was  at  that  time  sitting  in  New  York,  and,  on  his  way 
there,  Fitch  called  on  Dr.  Smith,  of  Princeton  College,  who  gave  his 
project  a  like  endorsement.  Under  date  of  August  29,  Fitch  addressed 
"His  Excellency,  the  President  of  Congress,"  the  following  letter: 
"Sir,  the  subscriber  begs  leave  to  lay  at  the  feet  of  Congress  an  at- 
tempt he  has  made  to  facilitate  the  internal  navigation  of  the  United 
States,  adapted  especially  to  the  waters  of  the  Mississippi.  The  ma- 
chine he  has  invented  for  the  purpose,  has  been  examined  by  several 
gentlemen  of  learning  and  ingenuity,  who  have  given  it  their  appro- 
bation. 

"Being  thus  encouraged,  he  is  desirous  to  solicit  the  attention  of 
Congress  to  a  rough  model  of  it  now  with  him,  that  after  examination 
into  the  principles  upon  which  it  operates,  they  may  be  enabled  to 
judge  whether  it  deserves  encouragement.  And  he,  as  in  duty  bound, 
shall  ever  pray,  etc. 

[Signed]  "JOHN  FITCH." 

*  N.  B.  Boileau  was  a  native  of  Hatboro,  Montgomery  County,  Pennsylvania ; 
he  was  born  in  1762,  and  died  March  1 6,  1850,  in  Abington.  He  graduated  at 
Princeton ;  did  not  study  a  profession,  but  was  a  gentleman  of  high  character,  and 


IN     CONTACT     WITH     DISTINGUISHED     STATESMEN.         39 

The  application  was  referred  to  a  committee,  which  made  no  report, 
greatly  to  the  chagrin  and  disappointment  of  the  inventor.  He  went 
back  to  Bucks  County  very  much  incensed  at  the  treatment  he  had  re- 
ceived, but  full  of  determination  to  persevere,  and  show  that  the 
Committee  of  Congress  were  "ignorant  boys."  On  the  27th  of 
September,  he  presented  "the  model,  with  a  drawing  and  description," 
to  the  American  Philosophical  Society. 

In  a  letter,  addressed  to  "His  Excellency,  Dr.  Franklin,"  under 
date  of  October  12,  1785,  he  says,  "he  is  full  in  the  belief  that  it 
will  answer  for  sea  voyages  as  well  as  for  inland  navigation,"  and 
speaks  of  "the  good  effects  of  the  machine  in  the  almost  omnipotent 
force  by  which  it  is  actuated,  and  the  very  simple,  easy,  and  natural 
way  by  which  the  screw  or  paddles  are  turned  to  answer  the  purpose 
of  oars."  He  concludes  by  saying  that  he  expects  "to  return  from 
Kentucky  about  the  first  of  June  next,"  and  solicits  Dr.  Franklin's 
"  friendly  assistance  in  introducing  another  useful  art  into  the  world." 

Dr.  Franklin  was  chief  among  the  patrons  of  James  Rumsey,  whose 
boat  was  in  principle  a  practical  adaptation  of  Franklin's  plan,  using 
the  steam-engine  to  do  the  work  of  pumping  in  and  ejecting  water. 

On  his  route  west,  Fitch  called  on  Ex-Gov.  Johnson,  of  Maryland, 
who  advised  him  to  call  at  Mount  Vernon,  on  General  Washington. 
The  distinguished  man  received  him  with  courtesy,  but  gave  him  no 
encouragement.  Fitch  says,  "I  believe  that  his  greatest  failure  is  a 
too  great  delicacy  of  his  own  honor,  which  we  hardly  can  suppose 
can  be  carried  to  excess.  The  certificate  which  he  gave  to  Rumsey's 
pole-boat  was  perhaps  one  of  the  most  imprudent  acts  of  his  life." 
Arriving  at  Richmond,  infatuated  with  his  steam-boat  scheme,  Fitch 
was  easily  persuaded  to  seek  aid  from  the  Virginia  Legislature,  but 
no  formal  report  was  secured  from  the  committee  to  which  the  pro- 
posal was  referred.  James  Madison  presented  his  memorial,  and 
Patrick  Henry  was  then  Governor  of  the  State.  His  course  was 
altered  by  what  transpired  in  Richmond,  and  in  order  to  print  an 
edition  of  his  map  for  sale,  under  an  arrangement  made  there,  he 
retraced  his  steps  to  Philadelphia. 

He  again  saw  Ex-Gov.  Johnson  at  Fredericktown,  who  gave  him 
a  letter,  dated  Nov.  25,  1785,  addressed  to  "His  Excellency,  Gov- 
ernor Smallwood,"  of  Maryland,  in  which  he  speaks  of  Fitch's  "im- 
provement of  the  steam-engine"  for  "a  variety  of  uses,"  "amongst 
others,  to  force  a  vessel  forward  in  any  kind  of  water,"  etc.  .  .  . 
He  presented  this  letter  to  the  Governor  at  Annapolis,  in  the  latter 
part  of  December,  and  on  the  gth  of  January,  1 786,  three  days  after 
the  memorial  was  received,  the  committee  of  the  Legislature  reported 
as  follows:  "However  desirous  it  is  for  liberal  and  enlightened  leg- 

an  active  politician;  was  a  member  of  the  Legislature  of  Pennsylvania  tor  twelve 
years,  and  in  1817  was  a  candidate  for  Governor,  but  Governor  Findlay  was 
elected. 


40  JOHNFITCH. 

islators  to  encourage  useful  arts,  yet  the  state  and  condition  of  oar 
finances  are  such  that  there  can  be  no  advance  of  public  money  at 
present." 

Fearing  that  his  invention  would  be  supplanted  in  some  way  by 
the  efforts  of  a  rival  interest  patronized  by  Dr.  Franklin,  he  memo- 
rialised the  Legislature  of  Pennsylvania  for  an  exclusive  right  to  pro- 
pel vessels  "by  fire  and  steam,"  in  the  waters  of  that  State.  This 
was  dated  March  n,  and  on  the  next  day  a  similar  memorial  was 
presented  by  one  Donaldson,  who  "  had  hit  upon  or  been  informed  of 
the  method  of  sucking  in  and  voiding  water  through  a  tube,"  as 
suggested  to  the  Philosophical  Society  by  Dr.  Franklin.  Without 
waiting  further,  Fitch  left  for  Trenton,  where  he  obtained  from  the 
Legislature  of  New  Jersey,  an  act  bearing  date  March  18,  1786,  which 
secured  to  him  for  fourteen  years  "the  sole  and  exclusive  right  of 
constructing,  making,  using,  and  employing,  or  navigating  all  and 
every  species  or  kind  of  boats  or  water  craft  which  might  be  urged 
or  impelled  by  the  force  of  fire  or  steam,  in  all  the  creeks,  rivers, 
etc.,  within  the  territory  or  Jurisdiction  of  this  State." 

Within  a  month  following,  Fitch  had  organized  a  company,  with  the 
number  of  shares  fixed  at  forty,  on  many  of  which  twenty  dollars  each 
were  collected.  There  were,  at  this  time,  but  three  steam-engines  in 
the  whole  country  ;  of  these  two  were'  in  New  England,  and  they  had 
been  imported  from  England  thirty  or  forty  years  before  the  Revolu- 
tionary War,  and  the  third  was  also  imported  by  a  Mr.  Hornblower, 
and  put  up  by  him  at  the  Schuyler  Copper  Mine,  Passaic,  New  Jersey. 
Fitch  was  advised  to  visit  Hornblower,  to  obtain,  if  possible,  a  skilled 
assistant;  but  he  became  acquainted,  about  this  time,  with  Henry 
Voight,  a  watchmaker,  who  proved  to  be,  in  Fitch's  estimation,  "a 
man  of  superior  mechanical  abilities,"  on  whom  he  could  depend. 
Voight  suggested  that  a  working  model  should  be  at  once  made  of  a 
steam-engine,  and  one  with  a  three-inch  cylinder  was  produced,  and 
at  the  same  time  a  small  skiff  was  prepared. 

Experiments  on  the  skiff  were  tried  with  "a  screw  of  paddles,"  the 
endless  chain,  and  one  or  two  other  modes,  "which  did  not  answer 
their  expectation,"  and  caused  them  to  be  dispirited.  After  a  sleep- 
less night  and  many  cogitations  about  "cranks  and  paddles  for  rowing t 
a  boat,"  Fitch,  at  sunrise,  sought  Voight's  residence,  and  together, 
after  a  change  was  suggested  by  Voight,  they  completed  the  scheme, 
so  that  finally  "  the  oars  worked  perfectly." 

In  a  letter  to  Stacy  Potts,  of  Trenton,  Fitch  says:  (July  28,  '86,) 
"I  completed  my  experiments  yesterday,  and  find  that  they  exceed 
my  most  sanguine  expectations.  *  *  We  shall  not  come  short  of 
ten  miles  per  hour."  We  find  him  saying  of  the  model  also:  "It 
fully  convinced  me  that  the  steam-engine  might  be  worked  both  ways 
as  well  as  one." 

The  members  of  the  company  were  greatly  pleased,  and  resolved  to 
constnict  a  new  and  larger  boat,  with  a  twelve-inch  cylinder,  but  it  was 


Fitch's  Model. 

FBUM  DRAWINGS  DEPOSITED,  SEPT.  27,  1785,  WITH  AMER.  PHIL.  SOCIETY,  PHILADELPHIA. 

See  page  40. 


Section  of  Endless  Chain, 

WITH    Bl.ADEg,  TO  ANSWER   INSTEAD  OF   PADDLES. 
Utixaittd  K-itk  Ike  atom,  and  belonging  to  It. 

See  page  40. 


OBTAINS     EXCLUSIVE    PRIVILEGES.  41 

no  easy  task  to  secure  the  money  necessary.  Some  had  gone  into  the 
project  originally  to  help  Fitch,  others  had  embarked  in  it  as  a  business 
speculation.  Funds  were  needed,  but  were  not  cheerfully  given.  All 
the  hardships  that  Fitch  had  "experienced  as  an  Indian  captive  or 
prisoner  of  war  were  as  nothing  to  the  distress  of  feeling,  in  raising 
money  from  my  best  friends."  He  felt  himself  bound  in  honor  to 
go  on  with  the  work.  In  his  extremity,  he  prepared  a  petition  for  aid 
to  the  Pennsylvania  Legislature,  in  which  he  spoke  of  his  plan  as  one 
that  would,  when  completed,  "enrich  America  at  least  three  times  as 
much  as  all  that  country  north-west  of  the  Ohio,  because  it  would  make 
that  country  four  times  as  valuable,  beside  the  inconceivable  advantages 
it  would  be  to  the  settled  portions  of  the  continent." 

The  committee  on  this  petition  reported  in  favor  of  paying  "John 
Fitch's  drafts  to  any  amount  not  exceeding  i5o/.,  on  proof  that  the 
money  so  drawn  has  been  applied  to  completing  his  steam-boat ;"  but 
the  members  of  the  assembly  were  not  as  well  disposed,  for  the  reso- 
lution was  lost;  ayes  28,  nays  32.  Fitch  made  still  another  effort  by 
writing  an  earnest  letter  to  General  Thomas  Mifflin,  then  Speaker,  but 
the  appeal  met  no  response. 

By  this  time  Donaldson,  Rumsey,  and  others,  were  hard  at  work 
with  schemes  to  take  from  Fitch  the  laurels  he  had  already  gained,  and 
he  was  just  then  for  a  period  shorn  of  his  best  gifts  for  improving  his 
invention,  by  the  controversies  in  which  he  thought  it  necessary  to 
engage,  as  well  by  the  pecuniary  embarassments  which  resulted  from 
his  endeavors  to  perfect  his  machinery.  Amid  much  else  that  he 
wrote,  he  says:  "The  propelling  of  a  boat  with  steam  is  as  new  as  the 
rowing  of  a  boat  with  angels;  and  I  claim  the  first  thought  and  in- 
vention of  it."  "I  am  obliged  to  say  that  I  have  made  the  greatest 
improvement  on  inland  navigation  that  was  ever  made." 

On  the  28th  of  March,  1787,  after  much  controversy  over  Donald- 
son's pretehsions,  the  Pennsylvania  Legislature  ignored  the  latter  and 
passed  a  law  essentially  the  same  as  that  passed  by  New  Jersey,  giving 
Fitch  exclusive  rights  for  steam-boats  in  the  waters  of  that  State.  On 
the  3d  of  the  previous  month — February — exclusive  rights  were  granted 
by  Delaware,  and  on  the  igth  of  March  by  New  York. 

In  the  Columbian  Magazine,  early  in  1787,  we  find  a  detailed  state- 
ment of  the  new  boat.  "It  is  to  be  propelled  through  the  water  by 
the  force  of  steam.  The  steam-engine  is  to  be  similar  to  the  late 
improved  steam-engines  in  Europe,  these  alterations  excepted.  The 
cylinder  is  to  be  horizontal,  and  the  steam  to  work  with  equal  force  at 
each  end  thereof.  The  mode  of  forming  a  vacuum  is  believed  to  be 
entirely  new;  also,  of  letting  the  water  into  it,  and  of  letting  it  off 
against  the  atmosphere  without  any  friction.  The  undertakers  are  also 
of  opinion  that  their  engine  will  work  with  an  equal  force  to  those  late 
improved  engines,  it  being  a  twelve-inch  cylinder. 

"  They  expect  it  will  movfe  with  a  clear  force,  after  deducting  friction, 
of  between  eleven  and  twelve  hundred  pounds  weight;  which  force  is 


42  JOHN   FITCH. 

to  be  applied  to  the  turning  of  an  axle-tree  on  a  wheel  of  eighteen 
inches  in  diameter.  The  piston  is  to  move  about  three  feet,  and  each 
vibration  of  the  piston  turns  the  axle  about  two-thirds  round.  They 
propose  to  make  the  piston  to  strike  thirty  strokes  in  a  minute,  which 
will  give  the  axle  about  forty  revolutions.  Each  revolution  moves 
twelve  oars  five  and  a  half  feet.  As  six  oars  come  out  of  the  water, 
six  more  enter  it,  which  makes  a  stroke  of  about  eleven  feet  each  rev- 
olution. 

"The  oars  work  perpendicularly,  and  make  a  stroke  similar  to  the 
paddle  of  a  canoe.  The  cranks  of  the  axle-tree  act  upon  the  oar 
about  one-third  of  their  length  from  the  lower  end,  on  which  part  of 
the  oar  the  whole  force  of  the  axles  is  applied.  The  engine  is  placed 
in  about  two-thirds  of  the  boat,  and  both  the  action  and  the  reaction 
of  the  piston  operate  to  turn  the  axle-tree  the  same  way. ' ' 

The  information  thus  given  is  the  most  connected  statement  now  to 
be  found  of  the  invention  of  Fitch.  The  drawings  and  papers  he 
deposited  with  the  American  Philosophical  Society,  long  since  disap- 
peared. The  models  and  drawings  which  were  in  the  United  States 
Patent  Office  were  burned  by  the  five  there  in  1826.  Fitch's  manu- 
scripts are  full  as  journals,  but  contain  no  clear  statement  as  to  the 
manner  in  which  the  steam-engine  was  to  be  constructed. 

At  this  time  it  would  seem  that  both  Fitch  and  Voight  had  become 
acquainted  with  such  facts  concerning  Watt's  engine  as  were  accessible, 
but  it  is  plainly  evident  that  they  lacked  the  practical  knowledge  of 
details,  so  important  in  adjusting  the  different  portions  of  such  a  com- 
plex mechanism  to  each  other,  and  did  not  understand  the  true  scien- 
tific relations  of  boiler,  cylinder,  condenser,  andair-pump,  necessary 
to  make  a  perfect  whole;  indeed,  these  relations  were  not  then  under- 
stood by  even  the  most  scientific  engineers.  They  made  experiments, 
and  groped  their  way  toward  success  as  best  they  could,  and  failed  of 
ultimate  triumph,  not  so  much  for  want  of  capital,  which  was  deplora- 
bly wanting,  but  more  because  artisans  could  not  be  reached  who  were 
sufficiently  skilled  to  execute  what  was  planned. 

In  May,  1787,  the  steam-engine  was  completed,  but  "the  wooden 
caps  to  the  cylinder"  admitted  air,  and  being  horizontal,  "the  piston 
was  leaky."  The  machinery  was  all  removed,  and  again  setup,  with 
the  cylinders  perpendicular,  making  a  tedious  and  expensive  job;  and 
this  time  the  condensation  proved  imperfect,  rendering  it  necessary  to 
"  throw  the  condenser  away."  Other  forms  had  previously  failed  and 
been  cast  aside  also.  Now  a  substitute  was  supplied  by  Voight. 
While  these  alterations  progressed,  the  projectors  and  their  associates 
were  looking  for  success;  but  as  one  defect  was  remedied,  another 
appeared.  Soon  the  boiler  was  insufficient  to  generate  a  continuous 
supply  of  steam.  The  boat  had  moved  three  to  four  miles  an  hour, 
but  stoppages  to  accumulate  steam  were  frequently  necessary.  The 
shareholders  of  the  company  became  discouraged,  and  some  abandoned 
their  interests.  Fitch,  almost  in  despair,  was  inclined  to  give  up  his 


A  Curious  Plan  of  Dr.  Franklin's 
FOB  PROPELLING  A  BOAT  BY  PUMPING  IN  AND  EJECTING  WATEB. 

Vide  Proceeding*  of  American  Philoiophical  Society,  Dec.  1786. 
See  page  39. 


From  "A  Figure  of  John  Fitch's  Steamboat,  by  himself,' 

(BEFORI  IT  WAS  BUILT,  AND  so  WITHOUT  SMOKE-STACK.) 
Tide  hit  Letter  to  Columbian  Magazine.    It  mu  dated  December  8,  ITS*. 

Seo  pages  41  aud  42. 


OPINIONS    OF    DISTINGUISHED     MEN.  45 

endeavors  to  perfect  his  invention;  but  finally  he  decided  to  make  a 
new  appeal  for  aid,  from  which  we  quote  a  few  sentences  giving  his 
notions  on  some  points  : 

"  The  laws  of  God  are  positive,  and  he  that  does  not  comply  with 
them  in  the  strictest  sense  can  not  expect  success.  His  laws  are 
equally  positive  in  every  branch  of  mechanism,  and  in  all  sciences. 
*  *  *  I  was  vain  in  undertaking  a  business  which  I  knew  nothing 
about,  that  has  taken  nearly  a  century  to  bring  to  perfection, — I 
mean  the  steam-engine, — especially  when  it  was  to  be  applied  to  a  dif- 
ferent purpose  from  any  heretofore  in  use.  *  *  *  It  is  sure  that 
the  laws  of  God  in  mechanism  have  permitted  a  steam-engine  to  work 
on  board  of  a  small  boat  equally  as  well  as  if  it  had  been  on  land, 
and  rowed  the  boat  at  the  same  time,  notwithstanding  we  had  fre- 
quently to  stop,  and  for  no  other  reason  than  for  the  want  of  steam," 
etc.,  etc. 

It  is  not  important  to  copy  the  appeal,  for  it  is  rambling  and  dis- 
jointed in  style,  and  would  fill  several  pages.  It  presents  several 
points  strongly  however,  and  had  enough  influence  upon  several  of  the 
larger  stockholders  to  induce  them  to  furnish  more  money,  so  that 
the  necessary  alterations  were  completed.  Sufficient  steam  was  gen- 
erated, and  the  machinery  worked  well,  when  the  new  trial  occurred 
August  22,  1787.  At  this  time  the  convention  which  framed  the 
Federal  Constitution  was  sitting  in  Philadelphia;  its  members  were 
invited,  and  many  witnessed  the  experiment,  among  whom  were 
several  who  later  complimented  Mr.  Fitch  in  flattering  terms  by  notes 
addressed  to  him.  Governor  Randolph,  of  Virginia,  "was  pleased 
to  give  the  invention  countenance."  Dr.  Johnson,  of  Virginia, 
"himself,  and  he  doubts  not  other  gentlemen,  will  be  happy  to  give 
him  every  encouragement  in  their  power." 

Duykinck's  Cyclopedia  of  American  Literature  contains  the  following, 
which  was  taken  from  an  entry  in  the  diary  of  Rev.  Ezra  Stiles,  of 
New  Haven,  Connecticut,  dated  August  27,  1787: 

"Judge  Ellsworth,  a  member  of  the  Federal  Convention,  just  re- 
turned from  Philadelphia,  visited  me,  and  tells  me  the  convention  will 
not  rise  under  three  weeks.  He  there  saw  a  steam-engine  for  rowing 
boats  against  the  stream,  invented  by  Mr.  Fitch,  of  Windsor,  in  Con- 
necticut. He  was  on  board  the  boat,  and  saw  the  experiment  suc- 
ceed." 

We  also  append  the  following  certificates  from  distinguished  men  : 

"  These  may  certify  that  the  subscriber  has  frequently  seen  Mr. 
Fitch's  steam-boat,  which,  with  great  labor  and  perseverance,  he  has  at 
length  completed;  and  has  likewise  been  on  board  when  the  boat 
was  worked  against  both  wind  and  tide,  with  a  very  considerable 
degree  of  velocity,  by  the  force  of  steam  only.  Mr.  Fitch's  merit  in 
constructing  a  good  steam-engine,  and  applying  it  to  so  useful  a  pur- 
pose, will  no  doubt  meet  with  the  encouragement  he  so  justly  deserves 


4o  JOHNFITCH. 

from  the  generosity  of  his  countrymen,  especially  those  who  wish  to 
promote  every  improvement  of  the  useful  arts  in  America. 

"  DAVID  RITTENHOUSE. 
[The  celebrated  Astonomer.] 
"PHILADELPHIA,  December  12,  1787." 

"  Having  also  seen  the  boat  urged  by  the  force  of  steam,  and  having 
been  on  board  of  it  when  in  motion,  I  concur  in  the  above  opinion 
of  Mr.  Fitch's  merits.  JOHN  EWING, 

"Provost  of  the  University  of  Pennsylvania." 

"From  the  well-known  force  of  steam,  I  was  one  of  the  first  of 
those  who  encouraged  Mr.  Fitch  to  reduce  his  theory  of  the  steam-boat 
to  a  practice,  in  which  he  has  succeeded  far  beyond  my  expectations. 
I  am  now  fully  of  the  opinion  that  steam-boats  may  be  made  to 
answer  valuable  purposes  in  facilitating  the  internal  navigation  of  the 
United  States,  and  that  Mr.  Fitch  has  great  merit  in  applying  a 
steam-engine  to  so  valuable  a  purpose,  and  entitled  to  every  encour- 
agement from  his  country  and  his  countrymen. 

"ANDREW  ELLICOTT. 

"PHILADELPHIA,  December  13,  1787." 

It  will  not  be  desirable  or  necessary  here  to  follow  Fitch  through 
his  controversies  with  Rumsey,  by  pamphlets  and  otherwise,  farther 
than  to  assure  our  readers  of  his  unwearied  endeavors  and  of  his 
success  in  showing  his  substantial  right  to  claim  for  himself  the 
priority  as  inventor  of  a  practical  steam-boat.  An  eminent  French 
traveler,  J.  P.  Brissot  (Dc  Warville),  on  his  return  to  France,  pub- 
lished a  volume,  in  which,  under  date  of  Philadelphia,  he  says,  "  I 
went  to  see  an  experiment  on  board  of  a  boat  near  the  Delaware. 
*  *  *  The  inventor  was  Mr.  Fitch.  *  *  *  His  invention 
had  been  disputed  by  Mr.  Rumsey,  of  Virginia,  and  the  discussion 
had  occasioned  the  publication  of  several  pamphlets.  Be  that  as  it 
may,  the  machine  I  saw  appeared  to  me  to  be  well  executed,  and  to 
answer  its  purpose,"  etc.  In  a  note,  Mr.  Brissot  adds  what  he  after- 
wards learned  in  Europe  about  Fitch's  boat.  "  There  have  been 
several  experiments  made  with  this  STEAM-BOAT.  Mr.  Fitch,  on  one 
occasion,  ran  twenty  miles  in  three  hours ;  with  the  tide  in  his  favor, 
he  made  eight  miles  an  hour.  This  artist  is  unceasingly  engaged  in 
perfecting  his  boat.  He  is  a  modest  and  estimable  man.  In 
looking  over  the  American  journals  of  1790,  I  see  with  pleas- 
ure that  Mr.  Fitch  by  no  means  abandons  his  invention.  I  learn 
that  on  May  nth,  1790,  he  made  the  run  from  Philadelphia  to 
Burlington  in  three  hours  and  a  quarter,  having  the  wind  against 
him  and  the  tide  in  his  favor.  Under  these  circumstances  he  ran 
seven  miles  an  hour." 

We  pass  over  briefly  what  is  spoken  of  as  the  "second  successful 


THE     SUCCESSFUL    TRIAL.  47 

steam-boats  of  1788."  The  controversy  with  Rumsey  had  absorbed 
Fitch's  attention,  and  kept  the  company  from  finishing  their  boat ; 
now,  however,  there  was  a  respite,  and  the  interests  of  the  stock- 
holders were  put  in  shape  to  resume  work.  Meanwhile,  Congress 
had  assembled  in  New  York,  in  April  1789,  and,  under  the  new 
Constitution,  in  possession  of  powers  not  equaled  under  the  old  con- 
federation, had  been  besieged  by  authors  and  inventors  for  exclusive 
rights,  who  had  asked  for  copyrights  and  patent-rights,  and  among 
these  applicants  was  Fitch,  who,  in  getting  a  hearing,  was  troubled 
and  harassed  by  almost  interminable  delays.  In  the  Senate,  March 
22,  1790,  the  petition  of  John  Fitch  was  read,  praying  that  a  clause 
providing  for  a  trial  by  jury  might  be  inserted  in  the  bill  before 
Congress,  "  to  promote  the  progress  of  useful  arts." 

It  was  ordered  that  the  petition  be  referred  to  the  committee,  who 
have  under  consideration  the  last-mentioned  bill.  The  bill  (not 
modified  according  to  Fitch's  request)  was  passed,  and  signed  by  the 
PRESIDENT,  April  loth,  1790,  thus  forming  the  "initial  point"  of 
the  U.  S.  patent  laws.  The  steam-boat  company  began  to  put  in 
place  the  machinery  for  their  "  new  packet,  passenger,  and  freight 
steam-boat,"  in  the  spring  of  1790;  but  previous  events  and  present 
complications  brought  quarrelsome  scenes  between  Fitch  and  some 
of  the  directors.  As  will  have  been  already  noticed,  Fitch  was  not 
an  amiable  man  ;  now  his  temper  was  soured  and  he  was  not  able, 
as  he  says,  to  overcome  his  disposition.  "  When  in  easy  circumstances," 
he  now  says  of  himself,  "  modest  to  excess,  can  put  up  with  any  in- 
dignity, and  resent  in  no  other  way  than  by  familiarity ;  but  when 
in  wretchedness,  haughty,  imperious,  insolent  to  my  superiors,  and 
the  greater  the  man  the  more  sweet  the  pleasure  in  retorting  upon 
him  in  his  own  way." 

Seven  condensers  had  been  tried,  of  various  sorts  and  sizes,  and 
had  been  thrown  aside  ;  of  these  the  five  smaller  had  worked  best ; 
the  last  was  one  of  his  friend  Dr.  Thornton's  planning ;  but  it  proved 
radically  defective,  and  a  new  one,  from  suggestions  of  Fitch,  was 
made,  which  seems  to  have  secured  the  end  sought.  Fitch  was 
greatly  elated,  as  the  following  extract  will  show  :  "  April  16  [1790], 
got  our  work  completed,  and  tried  our  boat  again,  and  although  the 
wind  blew  very  fresh  at  the  north-east,  we  reigned  Lord  High  Admi- 
rals of  the  Delaware,  and  no  boat  in  the  river  could  hold  its  way 
with  us,  but  all  fell  astern,  although  several  sail -boats,  which  were 
very  light,  and  had  heavy  sails  that  brought  their  gunwales  well  down 
to  the  water,  came  out  to  try  us.  We  also  passed  many  boats  with 
oars,  which  were  strongly  manned  and  without  loading ;  they  seemed 
to  stand  still  as  we  passed  them.  We  also  ran  round  a  vessel  (that 
was  beating  to  windward),  in  about  two  miles,  which  had  a  half  mile 
start  of  us,  and  came  in  without  our  works  failing."  After  this, 
several  successful  trips  were  given  to  members  of  the  company  and 
to  distinguished  persons. 


48  JOHNFITCH. 

"The  United  States  Gazette  "  of  May  1 7th  contained  a  notice, 
dated  Burlington,  May  nth,  in  these  words  :  "  The  friends  of  science 
and  the  liberal  arts  will  be  gratified  in  hearing  that  we  were  favored, 
on  Sunday  last,  with  a  visit  from  the  ingenious  Mr.  Fitch,  accom- 
panied by  several  gentlemen  of  taste  and  knowledge  in  mechanics, 
in  a  steam-boat  constructed  on  an  improved  plan.  From  these  gentle- 
men we  learn  that  they  came  from  Philadelphia  in  three  hours  and  a 
quarter,  with  a  head-wind,  the^  tide  in  their  favor.  On  their  return, 
by  accurate  observations,  they  proceeded  down  the  river  at  the  rate 
of  upwards  of  seven  miles  an  hour. ' ' 

On  June  i6th,  Governor  Mifflin,  with  members  of  the  Philadelphia 
City  Council,  took  a  trip  on  the  new  boat,  and  were  so  much  pleased, 
that  they  directed  COLORS  to  be  purchased  at  their  expense ;  but  fear- 
ing, as  politicians,  to  favor  a  scheme  which  had  for  four  years  pre- 
viously been  derided  by  the  multitude,  they  refused  to  make  a  pitblic 
presentation  of  the  flags,  declaring  that  they  were  given  by  private 
subscriptions.  Such  was  poor  human  nature,  so  short  a  time  after 
the  "War  of  Independence,"  in  free  America!  There  is,  perhaps, 
no  country  in  the  civilized  world  where  the  tyranny  of  what  is  called 
"  public  opinion  "  so  completely  over-rides  the  independent  action 
of  the  individual  man,  even  now  at  this  later  period,  when  we  prate 
so  much  of  our  absolute  freedom.  Are  we  yet  free  from  slavery? 

The  boat  was  duly  finished,  and  frequently  made  the  trip  up  the 
Delaware  and  back,  as  appears  by  advertisements  published  in  the 
"  Pennsylvania  Packet,"  and  also  in  the  "  Federal  Gazette,"  bearing 
various  dates,  from  June  i4th  to  the  middle  of  September.  It  was 
announced  to  set  off  from  Arch  Street  Ferry,  in  Philadelphia,  every 
Monday,  Wednesday,  and  Friday,  for  Burlington,  Bristol,  Bordentown, 
and  Trenton,  to  return  on  Tuesdays,  Thursdays,  and  Saturdays. 

Averaging  the  trips  made  at  twenty-five  miles  each,  this, 

THE   FIRST   PASSENGER  STEAM- BO  AT, 

must  have  run,  before  she  was  laid  up,  between  two  and  three  thousand 
miles.  That  the  voyages  were  made  without  material  hinderances  is 
apparent.  Fitch,  in  his  manuscript  journal,  charges  detentions 
to  the  heedlessness  of  Voight,  in  weighing  down  the  safety-valve,  in 
defiance  of  his  entreaties,  and  thus  bringing  about  accidents  of  small 
importance ;  excepting  twice,  when  the  axle-trees  were  broken,  there 
were  none  which  were  not  repaired  in  an  hour  or  two.  The  boat  is 
said  to  have  "  run  five  hundred  miles,"  on  an  average,  without  the 
least  accident  occurring.  General  Joseph  Bloomfield,  of  New  Jersey, 
testified  before  a  committee  of  the  New  York  Legislature,  in  1814, 
that  he  had  frequently  been  a  passenger  on  Fitch's  boat  on  the  Dela- 
ware. Dr.  Thornton,  Fitch's  former  associate,  stated  that  "  our  boat 
(Fitch's)  went  at  the  rate  of  eight  miles  an  hour,  in  the  presence  of 
witnesses  yet  (1814)  living."  See  U.  S.  Patent  Office  Report,  1850. 
It  is  unnecessary  to  follow  the  fortunes  of  Mr.  Fitch,  in  building 
the  steam-boat  "PERSEVERANCE  ' '  for  operating  in  the  waters  of  Virginia ; 


Cylinders,  Condensers,  and  Air-Pumps. 

From  Original  Drawings,  depvrited  tcith  Fitch's  MSS.  in  the  Philadelphia  Library, 


Fitch's  Philadelphia  &  Trenton  Packet. 

I'll  \«  M:I     Kill  i;.    IT'..       •*.  ,•   pllge  4ij. 


GOES     TO     FRANCE.  49 

in  seeking  to  have  a  boat  built  at  Pittsburgh,  so  that,  as  he  said,  "  the 
navigation  of  the  Mississippi  and  Ohio  shall  be  made  easy;"  or  in 
his  endeavors  to  get  special  privileges  from  the  Government, — his  as- 
sociates had,  with  but  three  or  four  exceptions,  deserted  him.  Their 
ventures  with  him  had  not  paid,  and,  consequently,  they  had  not  the 
disposition  to  furnish  further  means.  Had  his  personal  qualities  been 
different,  he  would  probably  have  achieved  success ;  plainly,  he  was 
dissolute  in  his  habits,  and  both  vulgar  and  violent  in  his  language. 
His  fondness  for  stimulants  added  fuel  to  the  flames  which  burnt  out 
his  life.  Had  he,  in  the  midst  of  the  difficulties  which  surrounded 
him,  been  as  strictly  temperate  as  he  was  ingenious,  skillful,  and  per- 
severing, his  efforts  would  undoubtedly  have  been  crowned  with  suc- 
cess, and  Fulton  would  not,  twenty  years  later,  have  so  nearly  carried 
off  the  laurels  which  he  had  so  nearly  within  his  grasp. 

Our  aim  in  this  sketch  has  been  to  do  justice  to  Mr.  Fitch's 
memory  as  an  inventor ;  and,  while  we  believe  him  entitled  to  the 
first  honors,  for  applying  steam  to  navigation,  we  have  no  apologies 
to  make  for  his  course  of  life,  when  the  heaviness  of  many  grievous 
disappointments  weighed  upon  his  mind,  and  caused  him  to  feel  de- 
jected and  hopeless. 

Fitch  finally  obtained  a  patent,  under  the  new  law  of  the  United 
States;  but  it  did  not  cover  the  ground  which  he  fairly  had  a  right 
to  claim,  and  he  became  disgusted  and  despairing.  Patents  to  Fitch, 
Rumsey,  and  also  to  others,  bore  date  August  26th,  1791,  leaving  to 
the  parties  the  pleasant  prospect  of  long  and  expensive  litigation. 
While  the  steam-boat  company  and  Fitch  were  awaiting  the  slow 
action  of  the  Commissioners  of  Patents,  Aaron  Vail,  U.  S.  Consul  at 
L'Orient,  France,  had  inspected  the  operations  of  the  steam-boat,  and 
become  convinced  of  the  value  of  the  invention.  He  sought  an  in- 
terest in  the  improvement,  with  the  view  of  obtaining  patents  in 
France  and  other  parts  of  the  continent.  The  majority  of  the  com- 
pany assenting,  Fitch  entered  into  an  agreement  with  Vail,  March 
1 6th,  1791,  which  two  years  later  induced  Fitch  to  visit  Mr.  Vail; 
but  arriving  at  the  consulate  in  the  midst  of  the  agitations  attendant 
upon  the  revolution  in  France,  he  found  all  business  suspended. 
After  a  brief  stay,  "  he  deposited  his  papers  and  specifications  in  the 
hands  of  Mr.  Vail,  and  crossed  the  channel  to  England,"  where  he 
remained  some  time  at  the  house  of  his  friend,  Robert  Leslie,  in  Lon- 
don, with  whom  he  had  been  on  terms  of  intimacy.  Mr.  Leslie,  as 
a  resident  of  Philadelphia,  had  made  important  improvements  in 
watches  and  clocks. 

In  1794,  after  having  published  in  London  a  small  pamphlet  on  a 
subject  connected  with  "  keeping  a  ship's  traverse,"  Fitch  returned 
home,  working  his  passage  to  Boston  as  a  common  sailor.  In  a  state 
of  destitution,  he  found  his  way  to  Connecticut,  where  he  saw  his 
daughter  Lucy,  Mrs.  Kilbourne.  He  remained  nearly  two  years  at 
4 


5°  JOHN     FITCH. 

East  Windsor  with  his  sister,  and  her  husband,  Timothy  King,  but 
did  not,  however,  become  reconciled  to  his  wife. 

The  year  before  he  sailed  to  Europe  there  seems  to  have  been  some 
correspondence  with  members  of  his  family.  A  letter  dated  Septem- 
ber 25th,  1792,  was  addressed  to  Colonel  James  Kilbourne,  who  had 
married  his  daughter  Lucy.  We  copy,  as  given  by  Colonel  Whittle- 
sey,  in  his  life  of  Fitch.  "  My  dear  child,  know  that  I  am  a  man  of 
tender  feelings,  however  my  children  may  have  been  educated  to  form 
their  opinions  of  me.  No  man  loves  his  children  more  than  myself, 
although  I  never  saw  but  one.  Forgive  me  for  not  entering  into'  a 
justification  of  my  conduct ;  but  esteem  your  mother-in-law  and  my- 
self, as  we  have  both  merited ;  but  I  require  of  you,  that  you  treat 
her  kindly,  because  she  was  once  the  wife  of  John  Fitch.  But  much 
as  I  love  my  children,  any  mediation  through  them  would  be  inef- 
fectual." 

Had  Fitch  been  surrounded  with  the  kindly  influences  of  a  pleasant 
home,  would  he  have  been  the  reckless,  irritable,  and  dissolute  man 
that  he  finally  came  to  be  ?  Would  he  have  given  way  to  the  terrible 
temptation  which  resulted  in  his  death ;  would  he  not  rather  have 
courageously  combatted  and  overcome  the  difficulties  which  beset  his 
path,  and  finally  succeeded  in  carrying  out  the  brilliant  schemes,  which 
his  genius  and  observation  had  caused  him  to  originate?  Had  he  been 
a  man  of  correct  habits  and  noble  character,  would  his  efforts  have 
been  fruitless?  We  do  not  believe  it !  He  might  have  missed  his 
aim,  in  some  degree,  but  he  would  not  have  broken  down  as  he  did 
utterly.  He  would  not,  in  despair,  have  written  out  and  sealed  up 
his  history  as  an  inventor,  feeling  that  no  one  cared  for  him,  or  would 
do  him  justice. 

We  here  extract  a  paragraph  from  a  letter  dated  24th  July,  1792, 
and  addressed  by  him  to  "Thomas  Jefferson,  Esq. :  "  (which,  at  the 
suggestion  of  friends,  was  never  delivered  to  Mr.  Jefferson,  but  de- 
posited with  his  other  MS.),  "I,  sir,  am  sorry  to  live  in  a  State, 
that  no  sooner  becomes  a  Nation  than  it  becomes  depraved.  The 
injuries  which  I  have  received  from  my  nation,  or  rather  from  the 
first  officers  of  the  Government,  has  induced  me  for  a  lesson  of 
caution  to  future  generations,  to  record  the  treatment  which  I  have 
received,  which  will,  in  a  few  days,  be  sealed  up  and  placed  in  the 
Library  of  Philadelphia,  to  remain  under  seal  till  after  my  death,  in 
which,  sir,  your  candor  is  seriously  called  in  question."  Four  days 
later  he  wrote  another  letter  addressed  to  the  Librarian  of  the  Phila- 
delphia Library,  with  which,  was  another  enveloped  and  sealed  to 
accompany  his  MS. ;  from  the  latter  we  extract  these  paragraphs  : 
"  I  have  two  reasons  for  keeping  it  under  seal  for  thirty  years,  al- 
though I  must  be  a  sufferer  during  that  time.  The  first  is,  that  the 
children  of  two  valuable  families  might  possibly  be  injured  by  it,  but 
by  that  time,  may  probably  be  married,  and  the  improper  conduct  of 


SALEOFHISENGINE.  51 

their  parents  may  not  hurt  their  temporal  interests,  however  injured 
I  may  have  been  by  them." 

Another  is,  that  the  warmth  of  the  present  age  is  so  much  in  favor 
of  the  first  officers  of  the  Government,  whose  candor  /  have  so  stren- 
uously called  in  question,  that  I  much  fear  they  would  be  destroyed 
without  ever  giving  the  world  an  opportunity  of  knowing  in  what 
manner  I  have  been  treated  by  them."  This  was  dated  Philadelphia, 
July  30,  1792. 

The  Library  Records  show  this  minute:  "October  4,  1792.  A 
sealed  cover,  inscribed  manuscripts,  was  presented  by  John  Fitch, 
who  requests  the  same  may  be  kept  unopened  until  the  year  1823* — 
the  Librarian  to  deposit  the  same  in  the  museum."  Later,  he  in- 
quired whether  the  trust  was  accepted,  and  on  receiving  an  affirma- 
tive answer,  gave  further  instructions — not  now  of  special  impor- 
tance— who  ever  desires  further  and  fuller  information,  should  procure 
"Westcott's  Life  of  John  Fitch  "  a  volume  of  over  four  hundred 
pages,  published  -by  Lippincott,  Philadelphia.  Fitch's  manuscripts 
cover  over  500  pages,  and  may  be  consulted  as  left  by  him.  They 
were  deposited  with  the  Librarian  after  his  schemes  had  practically 
failed,  and  therefore  whatever  transpired  afterwards,  must  be  looked 
for  elsewhere.  We  do  not  find  that  Fitch  gave  much  heed  to  leaving 
further  records  of  his  movements.  Mr.  Westcott  has,  however, 
gathered  industriously  whatever  he  could  get  trace  of,  and  we  acknowl- 
edge our  indebtedness.  He  says  "the  Perseverance,  with  the  engine, 
nearly  finished,  was  abandoned.  The  share-holders  became  careless 
upon  the  subject,  and  for  four  years  the  boat  and  machinery  remained 
without  change.  The  "General  Advertiser"  of  August  18,  1795,  an- 
nounced the  last  act  in  the  melancholy  drama." 

"A   STEAM-ENGINE." 

"On  Wednesday,  the  24th  inst.,  will  be  sold  by  Public  Vendue, 
on  Smith's  wharf,  between  Race  and  Vine  Streets,  (Philadelphia),  a 
sixteen-inch  cylinder  steam-engine,  with  machinery  appertaining 
thereto.  The  terms  of  the  sale  will  be  cash,  and  the  sale  to  com- 
mence at  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning.  Composing  the  same,  are, 
viz." — here  follows  the  list  of  items: 

After  Fitch  had  spent  two  years  with  his  sister  and  brother-in-law, 
King,  at  East  Windsor,  Connecticut,  he  seems  to  have  determined  to 
seek  his  lands  in  Kentucky,  and  perhaps  in  passing  through  New 
York,  called  upon,  or  was  brought  into  contact  with  Robert  R. 
(Chancellor)  Livingston,  who  even  then  was  greatly  interested  in 
steam  navigation.  A  Mr.  John  Hutchings,  mentioned  in  the  Docu- 
mentary History  of  New  York,  says  that  in  the  summer  of  1796  or 
1797,  he  then  a  lad,  assisted  Mr.  Fitch  in  steering  a  steam-boat,  and 
otherwise  aiding  in  the  working  of  the  machinery.  The  boat  was 

•They  were  opened  formally  by  officers  of  the  Library  in  1823. 


52  JOHN     FITCH. 

navigated  upon  "the  Collect,"  a  large  pond  of  fresh  water,— since 
filled  up, — on  a  portion  of  the  site  of  which  now  stands  (The  'Tombs'), 
the  present  city  prison,  between  which  and  Canal  Street  was  the 
space  then  covered  with  water. 

"This  boat  was  propelled  by  a  screw-propeller.  The  boiler  was  a 
ten  or  twelve  gallon  iron  pot,  with  a  lid  of  truck-plank,  firmly  fast- 
ened to  it  by  an  iron  bar  placed  transversely.  The  boat  was  a  ship's 
yawl,  steered  by  an  oar."  Mr.  Hutchings  says  "the  steam  was  suffi- 
ciently high  to  propel  the  boat  once,  twice,  or  thrice  around  the  pond ; 
when,  more  water  being  introduced  into  the  boiler  or  pot,  and  steam 
generated,  she  was  again  ready  to  start  on  another  expedition.  .  . 
.  They  had  no  doubt  but  that  the  boat  might  be  propelled  six 
miles  an  hour,  though  then  making  something  less. 

From  New  York,  Mr.  Fitch  went  to  Philadelphia,  and  called  to 
see  his  acquaintances,  among  whom  was  Oliver  Evans,  whose  later 
improvements  of  the  steam-engine  are  well  known  to  the  scientific 
world.  Upon  arriving  in  Kentucky  in  the  late  fall;  or  early  winter  of 
1796,  Fitch  found  fresh  occasions  for  annoyance  and  trouble  in  the 
occupancy  of  his  lands  by  Squatters ;  it  is  gratifying,  however,  to 
know  that,  after  much  litigation,  he  finally  dispossessed  them. 

Here,  as  Colonel  Whittlesey  says,  "  on  the  confines  of  civilization, 
steam  navigation  lost  none  of  its  interest  to  him."  At  Bardstown, 
in  the  shop  of  Mr.  Howell,  he  wrought  upon  a  model  boat,  and  con- 
structed its  machinery  of  brass,  and  polished  each  part  neatly.  It 
"had  wheels,  and  not  oars,"  and  had  been  seen  floating  in  a  small 
stream  near  the  village,  by  persons  who  were  residents  of  Bardstown, 
in  1843. 

This  model  engine  was  years  with  the  St.  Louis  Mercantile  Library 
Association,  and  by  the  kindness  of  L.  J.  Cist,  Esq.,  of  Cincinnati, 
we  are  enabled  to  give  an  engraving  from  a  photograph  he  has  of  the 
machine.*  It  came  to  the  Library  Association  through  the  agency  of 
a  relative  of  Mr.  Fitch, — Mrs.  C.  M.  Scott. 

The  will  of  John  Fitch  bears  date  June  25,  1798,  and  "was  pro- 
duced "  in  the  County  Court  of  Nelson  County,  Kentucky,  for 
probate,  on  the  i8th  day  of  July  following.  He  died,  as  seems  prob- 
able, early  in  July,  immediately,  from  the  effects  of  opium,  which  had 
been  prescribed  by  his  physician,  but  which  he  concealed  until  he 
had  retained  twelve  pills  to  swallow  at  once,  and  thus  quietly  he  ended 
his  fretted  and  weary  life.  He  was  very  intemperate  during  his  resi- 
dence in  Bardstown.  Soon  after  reaching  there,  he  took  lodgings 
with  Alexander  McConn,  and  deeded  to  him  one  hundred  and  fifty 
acres  of  his  land,  stipulating  with  him  that  he  should,  besides  giving 
him  his  board  at  his  tavern,  provide  him  with  a  pint  of  whisky  a  day: 
this  ration,  Fitch  afterwards  remarked  to  McConn,  was  "  not  getting" 
him  "off  fast  enough;  you  must  add  another  pint,"  said  he,  and 

*  See  page  55  for  an  interesting  fac-simile  letter  of  Fitch. 


HIS    DECEASE    AND     BURIAL.  53 

then  doubled  his  quantity  of  lands  to  secure  the  quart  a  day.  A  sad 
record  to  make  of  so  bright  a  genius. 

His  remains  were  buried  respectably  in  the  public  burying  ground 
of  the  place,  at  the  expense  of  his  landlord ;  who,  many  years  after- 
wards, at  the  request  of  the  Hon.  Robert  Wickliffe,  identified  the 
spot  where  his  remains  were  interred.  Since  then  the  place  was  ac- 
curately described  by  citizens  who  caused  the  description  to  be  filed 
with  his  will,  that  the  remains  may  hereafter  be  found,  if  the  place 
of  burial  is  not  now  marked,  as  has  been  affirmed  by  some  one,  "by 
a  rough,  unhewn,  unlettered  stone." 

"Would  it  ever  have  been  difficult  to  find  the  grave  of  Fitch," 
in  the  words  of  Whittlesey,  if  he,  when  building  his  steam-boats, 
had  found  a  Robert  R.  Livingston  to  aid  him  with  a  large  capital. 
Or  even  had  his  Engines  been  made  by  skilled  mechanics  at  an  es- 
tablishment like  that  of  Boulton  &  Watt,  at  Soho,  instead  of  being 
made  as  they  were,  with  his  boilers  and  other  machinery,  by  rough 
blacksmiths,  without  proper  tools  or  apparatus,  under  the  superin- 
tendence of  an  Inventor  who  had  never  seen  an  Engine  of  any  sort, 
but  such  a  miniature  one  as  he  had  coined  from  his  own  brain,  and 
produced  with  his  own  hands, — would  Fitch  have  wandered  to  the 
wilds  of  Kentucky,  and  died  almost  an  outcast,  had  he  possessed  the 
facilities  for  perfecting  his  machinery  which  were  afforded  to  Fulton 
twenty  years  later? 

Chancellor  Livingston  was  an  ardent  worker  in  the  domains  of 
Steam.  As  early  as  1797,  assisted  by  Nisbet  and  Brunei,  he  had 
succeeded  in  propelling  a  vessel  by  steam  on  the  North  River,  at  the 
rate  of  nearly  three  miles  an  hour,  and,  by  virtue  of  his  efforts,  the 
following  year  he  obtained  the  repeal  of  the  law  passed  in  1787, 
giving  Fitch  exclusive  rights  in  the  waters  of  New  York,  and  secured 
its  privileges  for  himself.  Livingston  in  this  law,  is  described  as  a 
"possessor  of  a  mode  of  propelling  boats  by  steam,  upon  new  and 
advantageous  principles,"  and  not  as  an  inventor.  When  Livingston 
had  joined  Fulton,  it  took  them  several  years  to  attain  the  speed 
called  for  by  the  terms  of  the  New  York  law,  and  to  equal  that  at- 
tained by  Fitch  on  the  Delaware,  more  than  twenty  years  earlier. 

No  one  can  reasonably  question  that  Fitch's  steam-boats  were  the 
first  vessels  successfully  propelled  by  steam.  Fitch,  on  the  Delaware, 
anticipated  Symington  &  Taylor's  Dalwinston  boat  two  years,  and 
Rumsey  by  his  small  one  on  the  Potomac  by  ten  months.  English 
writers  affirm  that  the  Charlotte  Dundas,  built  by  Symington,  in  1801, 
for  the  Forth  and  Clyde  Canal,  was  the  first  "  practical  steam-boat  " 
built  in  the  Kingdom ;  but,  strange  to  say,  his  vessel  was  soon  laid  aside 
and  never  again  used.  Fitch's  skiff-boat,  moved  by  the  model  engine, 
with  three-inch  cylinder,  in  July,  1786,  was  followed  in  August,  1787, 
by  the  large  boat  propelled  by  an  engine  having  a  twelve-inch  cylin- 
der. Passages  were  made  several  times  up  and  down  the  Delaware  in  the 
summer  and  autumn  of  1788,  and  the  next  season  there  were  other 


54  JOHN     FITCH  . 

trials.  When  1790  came  and  the  machinery  had  been  perfected,  the 
steam-boat  became  a  regular  packet,  and  carried  both  freight  and  pass- 
engers with  regularity  and  promptness,  for  several  months,  with  the 
few  exceptions  before  referred  to. 

Mr.  James  Rumsey  went  to  England  in  1788,  probably  with  the  in- 
tention of  securing  patents  for  himself,  and  with  a  view,  no  doubt,  to 
make  available  the  greater  facilities  to  be  found  there  for  perfecting  steam 
.machinery.  He  was  fortunate  in  securing  the  aid  of  a  wealthy  Amer- 
ican merchant  in  London,  but  before  completing  his  vessel,  he  sud- 
denly died  of  apoplexy,  on  the  24th  of  December,  1792.  His 
vessel  was  successfully  moved  by  steam  the  February  following,  but 
for  some  reason  not  now  known  the  project  was  abandoned.  The 
bitter  controversies  between  himself  and  Mr.  Fitch,  by  pamphlets,  and 
before  Congressional  and  other  Committees,  were  ended,  it  will  be 
remembered,  by  patents  being  granted  to  each,  with  the  pleasant 
privilege  left  of  future  litigations  in  the  Courts.  Neither  one  or  the 
other,  for  themselves  or  by  th«ir  heirs  or  representatives,  ever  ob- 
tained any  pecuniary  return  whatever  for  their  efforts  in  steam  navi- 
gation. It  will  be  seen  that  Fitch's  efforts  were  not  without  avail 
to  those  who  came  after  him. 

Thus  far  we  have  neglected  to  speak  of  Mr.  Fitch's  personal  ap- 
pearance. He  was  represented  in  middle  life  as  standing  six  feet 
two  inches  in  height,  of  thin  and  spare  person  and  face,  with  very  black 
hair,  tawny  complexion,  and  a  dark  and  very  piercing  eye.  When 
he  walked  he  was  straight  as  an  Indian,  and  when  wearing  moccasins, 
as  he  did  when  in  captivity  and  on  the  frontiers,  his  tread  could  not 
be  distinguished  from  that  peculiar  to  the  denizens  of  the  forest. 
He  was  fond  of  walking,  and  made  his  long  journeys  to  and  from  the 
West  in  that  way.  His  personal  bravery  and  intrepidity  in  scenes  of 
danger  were  evinced  on  various  occasions  throughout  his  eventful 
career.  They  were  shown  before  he  was  six  years  of  age,  in  his 
hasty  transfer  to  the  chimney  hearth  of  burning  bundles  of  flax  which 
had  caught  fire  from  a  candle  in  the  hands  of  his  younger  sister,  when 
displaying  to  him  some  presents  which  she  had  received.  He  burnt 
his  hands  and  feet  badly,  and  nearly  singed  the  hair  from  his  head, 
but  bravely  saved  his  father's  house  from  the  flames,  by  his  noble  con- 
duct, when  there  was  no  one  else  in  the  house  who  could  have  done  it. 
Amid  all  his  misfortunes  there  is  much  to  indicate  that  he  was  truthful, 
fair-minded,  and  upright  in  his  intercourse  with  men.  His  letters  to 
his  children  manifest  much  warmth  of  affection.  Perhaps  we  do  not 
err  in  saying  that  his  sensitive  nature  received  a  bias  from  the  events 
which  followed  the  death  of  his  mother,  before  he  was  five  years  of 
age,  from  which  his  later  training  and  experiences  in  no  degree  relieved 
him.  He  passed  from  the  scenes  of  earth  at  the  age  of  fifty-five,  in 
the  midst  of  comparative  strangers,  and  among  those  who,  under  the 
circumstances,  could  have  but  little  sympathy  for  him. 


§ 


>*rUjk  m\ 

5  W  l^!  >  JU  *    * 

V     ?\      J     >*      C       *      .        .T  3      >v      (w 


ROBERT  FULTON. 


ROBERT  FULTON,  one  of  the  most  deservedly  famous  of 
modern  Engineers,  was  born  in  the  town  of  Little  Britain,  State 
of  Pennsylvania,  in  the  year  1765.  His  family,  though  respectable, 
was  not  opulent,  and  the  patrimony  which  fell  to  him  as  the  elder  of 
two  sons,  on  the  death  of  the  father  in  1768,  was  very  small.  He 
received  his  early  education  in  Lancaster,  Pennsylvania,  and  displayed, 
even  from  childhood,  a  strong  taste  for  those  pursuits  in  which  he 
afterwards  acquired  celebrity. 

All  the  intervals  of  study,  dedicated  usually  by  boys  to  play, 
were  spent  by  young  Fulton  in  the  workshops  of  mechanics,  or  in 
the  use  of  his  pencil;  and  by  the  time  he  had  reached  the  age  of 
seventeen,  he  had  become  so  skillful  in  drawing,  as  to  obtain  a  con- 
siderable income  by  painting  portraits  and  landscapes  in  Philadel- 
phia, in  which  city  he  remained  until  he  came  to  his  majority. 

In  1786,  Fulton  went  to  his  native  district  to  visit  his  mother,  and 
had  the  pleasure  of  purchasing  for  her,  with  his  earnings  at  Philadel- 
phia, a  small  farm  in  Washington  County,  which  greatly  increased 
her  comforts  for  the  remainder  of  her  life.  Having  effected  this 
labor  of  love,  he  set  out  to  re-establish  himself  at  Philadelphia,  but 
met  some  gentlemen  by  the  way,  who  were  so  much  struck  by  the 
production  of  his  pencil,  as  to  advise  him  strongly  to  go  to  England, 
assuring  him  that  there  he  could  obtain  the  patronage  of  his  country- 
man, Benjamin  West — then  in  high  favor  as  a  painter  with  the  British 
public.  Fulton  followed  the  counsel  thus  accidentally  given  to  him. 
At  the  age  of  twenty-two,  (1787),  he  crossed  the  Atlantic,  and  pre- 
sented himself  before  Mr.  West,  who  received  him  with  the  utmost 
kindness,  and  installed  him  at  once  as  an  inmate  of  his  own  family. 
Here  Fulton  continued  for  several  years,  practicing  the  art  of  paint- 
ing under  the  eye  of  his  friendly  entertainer. 

Owing  to  the  loss  at  sea,  some  years  afterwards,  of  a  number  of 
his  manuscripts,  it  is  not  accurately  known  for  what  reason  he  gave 
up  the  profession  of  an  Artist  for  that  of  an  Engineer.  It  would 
appear  that  he  went  to  Devonshire  in  the  character  of  a  painter,  and 

(57) 


58  ROBERT     FULTON. 

spent  two  years  there,  during  which  time  he  became  known  to  the 
Duke  of  Bridgewater,  of  canal  celebrity,  and  to  Lord  Stanhope,  a 
nobleman  famed  alike  for  eccentricity  and  mechanical  genius.  The 
formation  of  such  acquaintances  possibly  led  to  the  alteration  in  Ful- 
ton's views  for  the  future.  Whatever  was  the  cause,  we  find  him, 
from  the  year  1793  downwards,  devoting  his  whole  mind  and  time  to 
improvements  in  the  mechanic  arts.  In  the  year  mentioned,  he  en- 
gaged actively  in  a  project  to  improve  inland  navigation,  and  in  May, 
j  794,  he  obtained  from  the  British  government  a  patent  for  a  double 
inclined  plane,  to  be  used  in  transporting  canal  boats  from  one  level 
to  another  without  the  aid  of  locks. 

In  the  same  year  he  submitted  to  the  British  Society,  for  the  promo- 
tion of  arts  and  commerce,  an  improvement  on  mills  for  sawing 
marble,  for  which  he  received  an  honorary  medal  and  the  thanks  of 
the  society.  He  also  obtained  patents  for  machines  for  spinning  flax 
and  for  making  ropes;  and  invented  a  mechanical  contrivance  for 
scooping  out  the  earth,  in  certain  situations,  to  form  the  channels  for 
canals  or  aqueducts.  To  conclude  the  account  of  his  labors  at  this 
period  in  England,  he  published,  in  1796,  his  treatise  on  canal  navi- 
gation, to  which  he  appended  his  name  as  a  professed  Civil  Engineer. 
This  work,  it  was  admitted  by  all,  contained  many  ingenious  and  orig- 
inal thoughts  on  the  subjects  of  which  it  treats.  Whether  these  fruits 
of  his  genius  were  productive  of  much  emolument  to  Mr.  Fulton,  does 
not  seem  to  be  well  ascertained.  In  the  year  following  the  publica- 
tion of  his  treatise,  he  left  England  and  went  to  Paris,  where  he 
took  up  his  residence  with  his  distinguished  countryman,  Joel 
Barlow. 

The  objects  to  which  Fulton's  mind  chiefly  directed  itself,  during 
his  seven  years'  stay  in  France,  were  of  a  remarkable  cast.  "  Under 
the  impression  that,  while  individual  countries  maintained  standing 
navies,  the  seas  could  never  be  the  scene  of  secure  and  peaceful  com- 
merce, I  turned,"  says  he,  "my  whole  attention  to  find  out  the  means 
of  destroying  such  engines  of  oppression,  by  some  method  which 
would  put  it  out  of  the  power  of  any  nation  to  maintain  such  a  system, 
and  would  compel  every  government  to  adopt  the  simple  principles 
of  education,  industry,  and  a  free  circulation  of  its  produce." 

This  explanation  refers  to  his  schemes  for  destroying  ships  of  war, 
by  passing  explosive  machines  secretly  beneath  them.  After  several 
fruitless  attempts  to  call  the  attention  of  the  French  and  Dutch  Gov- 
ernments to  his  plans  for  this  purpose,  Fulton  was  at  last  successful 
in  inducing  Bonaparte,  in  the  year  1801,  to  appoint  a  commission,  with 
a  view  of  inquiring  into  the  practicability  of  his  designs.  Having 
gone  to  Brest,  accordingly,  Mr.  Fulton  there  exhibited  his  machines. 
One  of  these  was  a  plunging  boat  (called  by  him  a  Nautilus),  made 
water-tight  in  part,  and  otherwise  so  constructed,  that,  with  three 
companions,  the  inventor  could  remain  in  it  for  four  or  five  hours  at 
the  depth  of  many  feet  1>elow  the  surface  of  the  water,  and  could  there 


EXHIBITION  OF  HIS  MACHINES  AT  BREST.    59 

propel  it  from  place  to  place  with  great  ease,  without  a  ripple  being 
seen  above.  At  the  same  time  the  Nautilus  could  sail  as  readily  above 
as  beneath  the  water,  its  sails  being  struck  when  the  plunge  was  made. 
The  other  machine  was  named  by  the  inventor,  a  Torpedo,  and  was 
merely  a  sub-marine  bomb,  which  could  be  exploded  in  the  water. 
Mr.  Fulton  showed  to  the  commission  these  engines  in  actual  opera- 
tion, by  remaining  for  four  hours  in  the  water,  and  shifting  from  place 
to  place  in  the  Nautilus,  and  by  blowing  a  shallop  to  atoms  with  the 
Torpedo.  He  made  it  clear  that,  with  a  little  flotilla  of  these  Engines, 
a  vast  fleet,  under  favorable  circumstances,  could  be  blown  in  pieces 
into  the  air. 

After  these  experiments  were  made,  an  opportunity  was  sought  of 
trying  their  effect  on  some  of  the  British  vessels,  then  hovering  around 
the  French  coast.  No  proper  chance,  however,  presented  itself,  and 
the  French  Government  became  tired  of  the  matter.  At  this  junct- 
ure, the  British  ministry,  who  had  heard  with  some  alarm  of  Mr. 
Fulton's  projects,  made  proposals  to  him  to  give  his  services  to  Britain. 
Sincere  in  his  belief  that,  wherever  put  in  force,  his  inventions 
would  ere  long  bring  to  an  end  the  war  system  of  Europe,  Mr.  Fulton 
conceived  himself  at  liberty  to  accept  of  the  invitation  from  the  British 
Government.  He  went  to  London  in  May,  1804;  but  his  journey 
was  productive  only  of  disappointment.  In  the  single  opportunity 
afforded  him  of  trying  his  machines  on  French  vessels,  they  failed  of 
success.  The  British  ministry  also  changed  members,  and  in  1806 
Mr.  Fulton  sailed  for  America.  It  is  impossible  to  regret,  for  his  own 
sake,  that  such  was  the  issue  of  these  schemes  of  destruction,  though, 
at  the  same  time,  we  are  firmly  of  the  opinion  that  his  motives  were 
pure,  and  that  his  anticipations  would  have  been  ultimately  fulfilled. 
This  notice  of  Fulton's  explosive  inventions  may  be  closed,  by  men- 
tioning that  he  endeavored  afterwards  to  apply  the  same  engines  to 
the  defense  of  the  United  States,  but  did  not  succeed  in  extracting 
from  them  any  practical  benefit. 

We  come  now  to  notice  the  great  achievement  of  Fulton's  life. 
For  many  years  previous  to  this  period,  his  attention  had  been  turned 
to  the  subject  of  Navigation  by  Steam,  as  is  distinctly  shown  by  the 
following  passage  of  a  letter  to  him  from  Lord  Stanhope,  dated  Octo- 
ber 7,  1793  :  "Sir,  I  have  received  yours  of  the  3oth  September,  in 
which  you  propose  to  communicate  to  me  the  principles  of  an  inven- 
tion which  you  say  you  have  discovered,  respecting  the  moving  of 
ships  by  means  of  steam.  I  shall  be  glad  to  receive,  etc."  This 
letter  shows  Fulton,  thus  early,  to  have  formed  plans  for  steam  navi- 
gation. The  application  of  steam  to  the  propulsion  of  vessels  on  water 
had  been  suggested  long  before  by  Jonathan  Hulls,  in  a  little  work 
published  in  London  in  1737.  Though  this  person's  description  of 
the  machine  invented  by  him  is  amazingly  clear,  and  though  he  took 
out  a  patent  for  it,  the  attention  of  the  world  does  not  appeal-  to  have 


60  ROBERT     FULTON. 

been  arrested  to  the  subject.  The  idea  dropped  aside  for  nearly  fifty 
years. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  Fulton  was  a  resident  of  Philadelphia, 
in  the  practice  of  his  profession  as  an  artist,  during  the  early  years  of 
his  manhood.  The  city  directory  for  1785,  gives  his  business  as  that 
of  miniature  painter,  corner  of  Walnut  and  Second  Streets.  He  re- 
mained there  until  1787  when  he  sailed  for  London.  Previous  to  his 
departure,  Fitch's  invention  must  have  been  well  known  to  so  intelli- 
gent a  resident  of  the  city  as  young  Fulton,  even  supposing  that  the 
applications  of  Fitch  to  the  Legislatures  of  Virginia,  Maryland,  Penn- 
sylvania, and  New  Jersey,  in  behalf  of  his  invention,  were  unknown 
to  him,  as  they  might  have  been  to  one  who  had  but  little  more  than 
attained  his  majority.  Whatever  Mr.  Fulton  may  have  learned  before 
going  to  Europe,  it  is  certain  that  he  had  in  his  possession,  for  several 
months,  all  the  specifications  and  drawings  of  Mr.  Fitch,  which  the 
latter  deposited  with  Mr.  Aaron  Vail,  the  American  Consul  at  L'Orient, 
France,  at  the  close  of  Mr.  Fitch's  brief  visit  to  him  at  the  consulate 
in  1793.* 

About  1785,  Patrick  Miller,  Esq.,  of  Dalwinston,  in  Dumfriesshire, 
Scotland  (a  gentleman  who  had  made  a  fortune  by  banking,  and 
bought  that  estate,  made  experiments  with  a  double  vessel  driven  by 
paddle-wheels.)  The  tutor  of  his  children,  James  Taylor,  a  native  of 
Leadhills,  Lanarkshire,  and  a  man  of  much  mechanical  ingenuity, 
suggested  the  application  of  the  steam-engine  to  Mr.  Miller's  paddled 
vessel ;  and  the  consequence  was,  the  preparation  of  a  vessel,  having 
a  small  steam-engine  on  the  deck,  which  was  launched  in  Dalwinston 
Lake,  in  October,  1788.  A  clever  mechanician  named  Symington,  an 
early  friend  of  Taylor,  was  the  person  to  whom  the  fitting  up  of  this 
vessel  was  intrusted.  Afterwards,  at  the  expense  of  Mr.  Miller,  and 
under  the  superintendence  of  Mr.  Taylor,  Mr.  Symington  made 
another  vessel,  which  was  tried  on  the  Forth  and  Clyde  Canal,  in 
December,  1789,  with  such  complete  success,  that,  but  for  the  injury 
done  to  the  banks,  it  in  all  probability  would  never  have  been  taken 
off.  The  disgust  of  Mr.  Miller  with  the  expense  of  this  experiment, 
was  the  means  of  withdrawing  him  and  Mr.  Taylor  from  the  pursuit 
of  an  interesting  object,  which  was  then  followed  up  for  some  years 
by  Symington  alone. 

Mr.  Fulton,  when  on  a  visit  to  Scotland,  saw  and  examined  the 
Charlotte  Dundas,  a  boat  made  by  Symington,  which,  it  is  said,  was 
lying  in  a  dismantled  state  on  the  banks  of  the  Forth  and  Clyde 
Canal. f  However  this  may  be,  it  is  certain  that  the  first  decisive  ex- 
periments of  the  same  nature  made  by  Fulton  himself,  did  not  take 

*  See  Duer's  second  letter  to  Golden — quotation  from  Nathaniel  Cutting. 

t  Woodcroft,  in  his  history  of  Early  Steam  Navigation — pages  64  and  65 — shows 
that  in  1801,  Fulton  visited  Symington's  boat  on  the  Clyde  Canal,  and  took  drawings 
of  the  machinery. 


THE    FULTON    FOLLY.  6l 

place  until  the  year  1803,  when  he  was  resident  in  Paris.  In  the  in- 
tervals which  his  torpedo  schemes  allowed  to  him,  he  prosecuted  ar- 
dently the  subject  of  steam  navigation,  in  concert  with  the  American 
embassador,  Mr.  Robert  R.  Livingston.  In  July  of  the  year  mentioned, 
their  first  experimental  boat,  which  was  sixty-six  feet  long  by  eight 
feet  wide,*  and  was  driven  by  wheels,  was  launched  on  the  Seine,  in 
presence  of  the  members  of  the  French  Institute  and  a  great  concourse 
of  spectators.  The  boat  moved  slowly,  but  in  other  respects  the  ex- 
periment was  satisfactory,  and  Messrs.  Fulton  and  Livingston  resolved 
to  carry  the  same  principles  into  practical  operation  as  soon  as  they 
met  in  their  native  country. 

Fulton  went  to  England,  where  he,  no  doubt,  procured  the  Watt's 
Engine,  which  he  used  in  his  first  boat,  probably  taking  it  with  him  to 
New  York  in  1806.  Previously  to  that  time,  Mr.  Livingston  had  got 
an  act  passed  by  the  Legislature  of  New  York,  granting  to  himself 
and  Mr.  Fulton  the  exclusive  privilege  (originally  granted  to  Fitch) 
of  steam  navigation^  in  all  the  waters  of  the  State,  for  the  term  of 
twenty  years.  Though  they  passed  this  statute,  the  Legislators  of 
New  York  are  said  to  have  regarded  it  as  a  mere  delusion,  and  made 
it  a  standing  jest  for  more  than  one  session.  Similar  feelings  of  scorn 
and  derision  pervaded  the  minds  of  the  public  at  large.  Notwith- 
standing this,  Fulton,  immediately  on  his  arrival  in  New  York,  began 
the  construction  of  his  steam -boat.  The  expense  proved  to  be  great, 
and  he  was  compelled  to  offer  a  share  of  the  prospective  advantages 
to  some  of  his  friends,  with  a  view  of  getting  pecuniary  aid  in  the 
mean  time.  No  man  would  accept  his  offers.  "  My  friends  (as  he 
himself  relates)  were  civil,  but  shy ;  they  listened  with  patience  to 
my  explanations,  but  with  a  settled  cast  of  incredulity  on  their  coun- 
tenances ;  I  felt  the  full  force  of  the  lamentation  of  the  poet : 

Truths  would  you  teach,  to  save  a  sinking  land, 
All  shun,  none  aid  you,  and  few  understand. 

"As  I  had  occasion  to  pass  daily  to  and  from  the  building-yard 
while  my  boat  was  in  progress,  I  have  often  loitered,  unknown,  near 
the  idle  groups  of  strangers  gathering  in  little  circles,  and  heard  vari- 
ous inquiries  as  to  the  object  of  this  new  vehicle.  The  language  was 
uniformly  that  of  scorn,  sneer,  or  ridicule.  The  loud  laugh  rose  at 
my  expense,  the  dry  jest,  the  wise  calculation  of  losses  and  expendi- 
tures, the  dull  but  endless  repetition  of  'the  Fulton  Folly.'  Never 
did  a  single  encouraging  remark,  a  bright  hope,  or  warm  wish,  cross 
my  path." 

In  spite  of  this  painful  discouragement  the  boat  was  completed  in 
August,  1807.  To  continue  his  own  language,  "  The  day  arrived 
when  the  experiment  was  to  be  made  on  the  Hudson  River.  To  me 
it  was  the  most  trying  and  interesting  occasion.  I  wanted  some 
friends  to  go  on  board  to  witness  the  first  successful  trip.  Many  of 

•  The  proportions  adopted  by  Fitch,  as  shown  by  Dr.  Thornton. 


62  ROBERT     FULTON. 

them  did  me  the  favor  to  attend,  as  a  matter  of  personal  respect ; 
but  it  was  manifest  they  did  it  with  reluctance,  fearing  to  be  partners 
of  my  mortification,  and  not  of  my  triumph.  I  was  well  aware  that, 
in  my  case,  there  were  many  reasons  to  doubt  my  own  success.  The 
machinery  was  new  and  ill  made,  and  many  parts  were  constructed 
by  mechanics  unacquainted  with  such  work:  and  unexpected  difficul- 
ties might  reasonably  be  presumed  to  present  themselves  from  other 
causes.  The  moment  arrived  in  which  the  word  was  to  be  given  for 
the  vessel  to  move.  My  friends  were  in  groups  on  the  dock.  There 
was  anxiety  mixed  with  fear  among  them.  They  were  silent,  sad, 
and  weary.  I  read  in  their  looks  nothing  but  disaster,  and  almost 
repented  of  my  efforts.  The  signal  was  given,  and  the  boat  moved 
on  a  short  distance  and  then  stopped,  and  became  immovable.  To 
the  silence  of  the  preceding  moment  now  succeeded  murmurs  of  dis- 
content and  agitation,  and  whispers  and  shrugs.  I  could  hear  dis- 
tinctly repeated,  'I  told  you  so, — it  is  a  foolish  scheme, — I  wish  we 
were  well  out  of  it.'  I  elevated  myself  on  a  platform  and  stated 
that  I  knew  not  what  was  the  matter,  but  if  they  would  be  quiet, 
and  indulge  me  for  half  an  hour,  I  would  either  go  on  or  abandon 
the  voyage.  I  went  below  and  discovered  that  a  slight  maladjust- 
ment was  the  cause.  It  was  obviated.  The  boat  went  on ;  we  left 
New  York ;  we  passed  through  the  Highlands ;  we  reached  Albany. 
Yet  even  then  the  imagination  surpassed  the  force  of  fact.  //  was 
doubted  if  it  could  be  done  again,  or  if  it  could  be  made  in  any  case  of 
any  great  value."  Mr.  N.  P.  Willis,  in  quoting  this  letter,  exclaimed, 
"  What  an  affecting  picture  of  the  struggles  of  a  great  mind,  and  what 
a  vivid  lesson  of  encouragement  to  genius,  is  contained  in  this  simple 
narration." 

Pine  wood  was  the  fuel  used,  and  the  ignited  vapor  rose  many  feet 
above  the  flue,  sending  off  a  galaxy  of  sparks  to  a  great  height,  so  that 
those  who  saw  the  boat  returning  at  night  at  the  rate  of  five  miles  an 
hour,  conceived  her  to  be  a  monster  moving  on  the  waters,  breath- 
ing flames  and  smoke.  It  was  said  that  the  crews  on  the  ordinary 
vessels  on  the  river,  hid  themselves  under  decks  and  fell  to  their 
prayers.  But  the  good  people  on  the  Hudson  ere  long  became 
familiar  with  the  spectacle,  for  the  "Clermont"  soon  began  to  travel 
regularly,  as  a  passenger  boat,  between  Albany  and  New  York. 

Thus,  by  the  genius  and  perseverance  of  Robert  Fulton,  for  the 
first  time,  on  a  great  line  of  travel,  was  steam  navigation  made  effec- 
tually conducive  to  the  common  purposes  of  life.  He  soon  after- 
wards took  out  a  parent  for  his  invention  in  navigation  by  steam;  but 
all  his  exertions  could  not  save  him  from  the  encroachments  of  oth- 
ers on  the  rights  to  which  he  laid  claim.  A  series  of  vexatious  law- 
suits was  the  consequence,  by  which  his  life  was  long  embittered. 
He  was  two  or  three  years  in  getting  sufficient  speed  to  fulfill  the 
requirements  of  the  New  York  law.  This  law  was  hotly  contested 
by  Aaron  Ogden,  of  Elizabethtown,  N.  J.,  but  a  shrewd  compromise 


Steamer   "Clermont,"    18O7— Fulton's    First    Boat.    (Hudson  River.) 


French's    Steamer   "Enterprise,"    1814. 
First  Boat  to  ascend  Mississippi  anj  Ohio  Rivers. 


CAPTAIN     VANDERBILT.  63 

was  effected,  which  gave  Ogden  such  an  interest  in  the  monopoly  for 
running  boats  to  New  York  as  made  him  a  sturdy  defender  of  the 
special  privileges  of  Fulton  and  Livingston. 

Not  long  afterwards,  a  wealthy  lawyer  of  Savannah,  Ga. ,  (Thomas 
Gibbons),  successfully  established  a  ferry  between  what  is  now  called 
Elizabethport  and  New  York.  This  brought  about  the  celebrated 
lawsuit  of  Gibbons  vs.  Ogden.  The  case  was  finally  carried  to  the 
Supreme  Court  of  the  United  States,  which  decided  the  New  York 
law  to  be  unconstitutional.  It  may  interest  our  readers  to  know  that 
it  was  on  these  steam-boats  that  the  celebrated  Commodore  Vander- 
bilt  commenced  his  career.  Previous  to  1830  he  was  Captain  of  one 
of  them.  His  connection  with  Gibbons  brought  under  his  control 
large  sums  of  money, .  which  he  used  advantageously  after  that  gentle- 
man's decease. 

In  1811  Fulton  built  two  steamers  as  ferry-boats,  for  crossing  the 
Hudson.  The  succeeding  year,  the  example  was  followed  by  Mr. 
Bell,  of  Helensburgh,  Scotland,  who  launched  a  steam  vessel  on  the 
Clyde,  the  first  used  for  the  service  of  the  public  in  the  old  hemis- 
phere. Various  steam-boats  were,  after  an  interval,  built  under  the 
directions  of  Fulton,  for  the  navigation  of  the  Ohio,  Mississippi,  and 
other  waters  of  the  United  States. 

In  the  month  of  April,  1809,  Nicholas  J.  Roosevelt  was  sent  to  the 
West  by  Fulton  and  Livingston,  to  survey  the  rivers  from  Pittsburgh 
to  New  Orleans,  with  a  view  to  the  introduction  of  steam  navigation ; 
his  report  was  favorable,  and  ultimately,  in  the  early  autumn  of  1811, 
the  steamer  "Orleans"  was  finished  at  Pittsburgh.  She  left  Pitts- 
burgh on  her  experimental  voyage  in  October,  without  freight  or 
passengers,  excepting  the  young  wife  and  family  of  Mr.  Baker,  the 
engineer,  a  few  domestics,  Andrew  Jack,  the  pilot,  and  six  hands. 
There  were  no  wood-yards  on  the  rivers,  therefore  there  were  con- 
stant delays  to  obtain  fuel. 

On  the  fourth  day  after  leaving  Pittsburgh,  however,  they  arrived 
safely  at  Louisville,  having  voyaged  nearly  seven  hundred  miles  in 
about  seventy  hours;  the  novel  appearance  of  the  vessel,  and  the 
rapidity  of  its  movement  over  the  broad  reaches  of  the  Ohio,  excited 
a  mixture  of  terror  and  surprise  to  many  of  the  settlers  on  its  banks. 
Most  of  them  had  probably  never  heard  of  the  invention.  It  is  re- 
lated that  the  boat  reached  Louisville  on  a  fine,  still,  moonlight  night. 
The  extraordinary  sounds  produced  by  the  escaping  steam,  while 
rounding  to,  caused  general  alarm,  and  brought  multitudes  from  their 
houses  to  ascertain  the  cause  of  the  strange  phenomena. 

The  low  water  on  the  falls  at  Louisville  prevented  the  boat  from 
pursuing  her  voyage  to  New  Orleans,  and  resulted  in  several  trips 
being  successfully  made  between  Louisville  and  Cincinnati,  during 
the  detention  of  three  or  four  weeks.  In  November  the  water  rose 
sufficiently  to  allow  the  boat  to  go  over  the  falls.  In  due  time  they 
moored  the  boat  opposite  the  first  vein  of  coal  on  the  Indiana  side ; 


04  ROBERTFULTON. 

they  found  a  considerable  quantity  of  coal  ready  for  use,  with  which 
they  proceeded  to  supply  the  boat.  Squatters  in  the  neighborhood 
accosted  them  in  great  alarm,  asking  if  they  had  not  heard 
strange  noises  on  the  river  and  in  the  woods  during  the  preceding 
day.  They  assured  the  boatmen  that  the  shores  had  shaken  and  the 
earth  trembled.  Hitherto  the  voyagers  had  perceived  nothing  extraor- 
dinary, and  the  following  day  nothing  occurred  to  break  the  monot- 
onous silence  of  those  vast  solitudes.  The  weather  was  observed  to 
be  oppressively  hot,  the  air  misty,  still,  and  dull,  and,  though  the  sun 
was  visible,  it  was  like  a  great  ball  of  copper,  his  rays  shedding  scarcely 
any  more  than  a  mournful  twilight  on  the  surface  of  the  water.  As 
evening  approached,  indications  of  what  was  passing  became  evident. 
Sitting  on  the  deck,  ever  and  anon  they  heard  a  rushing  sound,  a 
violent  splash,  and  saw  large  portions  of  the  shore  tearing  away  from 
the  land,  and  falling  into  the  river. 

The  day  following,  the  same  portentous  signs  continued.  The  pilot 
of  the  boat  became  alarmed  and  confused,  affirming  that  he  was  lost, 
as  he  found  the  channel  every-where  altered.  Where  he  had 
hitherto  known  deep  water,  lay  numberless  trees  swaying,  with  their 
roots  upwards.  On  the  banks,  trees  were  waving  and  nodding,  without 
a  breath  of  air  to  stir  them ;  but  the  adventurers  had  no  choice  but 
to  continue  their  route.  Usually  they  had  brought  to  under  the  shore, 
but  now  the  numerous  wrecks  of  flat-boats  and  rafts  waYned  them 
away  from  the  shore.  In  his  extremity  the  pilot  determined  to  land 
at  a  large  island  in  mid-channel ;  but  he  sought  it  in  vain,  for  it  had 
entirely  disappeared.  Just  at  night-fall  they  discovered  a  small  island, 
they  rounded  to,  and  moored  at  the  foot  of  it.  They  listened  watchfully 
to  the  roaring  and  surging  waters  during  the  long  autumnal  night, 
noticing  with  solicitude  the  commotions  produced  by  the  falling  of 
large  masses  of  earth  and  trees  into  the  rushing  waters  of  the  river. 
It  was  a  long  night ;  but  morning  dawned  and  showed  them  they 
were  near  the  mouth  of  the  Ohio  River.  The  passing  earthquake  had 
been  distinctly  felt  on  the  vessel ;  but  the  changes  in  the  channel 
and  on  the  shore  kept  the  pilot  from  recognizing  either,  for  con- 
siderable periods  of  time. 

About  noon  they  reached  New  Madrid,  Missouri,  and  found  its 
inhabitants  in  great  distress  and  consternation ;  portions  of  the  popu- 
lation had  fled  to  the  higher  grounds,  while  others  prayed  to  be  taken 
on  board  the  boat.  The  earth  was  opening  in  great  fissures  on  every 
side,  while  houses  were  hourly  falling.  Such  were  the  scenes  that 
greeted  the  eye  and  roused  the  sensibilities  of  those  who  made  the 
first  steam  voyage  on  the  bosom  of  the  Mississippi.  Often  they 
floated  three  or  four  hundred  miles  on  that  great  stream,  without 
seeing  a  single  human  habitation.  The  citizens  of  Natchez  were 
greatly  surprised  at  the  appearance  of  the  boat,  at  the  close  of  the 
first  week  in  January,  1812.  It  was  supposed  that  she  must  have 
been  wrecked  in  the  great  convulsion  which  had  occurred.  Here  we 


STEAM      ON     THE     OHIO     AND      MISSISSIPPI.  65 

close  our  episode ;  but  give  a  few  facts  concerning  this  and   other 
boats  on  the  Western  rivers. 

By  the  kindness  of  Robert  Buchanan,  Esq.,  of  Cincinnati,  we  here 
insert  some  very  interesting  facts  which  he  furnished : 

"  In  the  spring  of  1811,  I  was  residing  at  Pittsburgh,  and  saw  there 
the  first  steamboat  launched  on  the  Western  waters.  It  was  the 
''Orleans,'  built  for  Fulton  &  Livingston,  under  the  superintendence 
of  Mr.  Roosevelt.  In  1809,  Mr.  R.  had  examined  the  rivers  from 
Pittsburgh  to  New  Orleans,  and  reported  favorably.  The  boat  was 
of  about  200  tons,  with  a  low-pressure  engine.  • 

"In  the  autumn  of  1811  I  saw  this  steamboat  pass  down  the  Ohio, 
on  her  way  to  New  Orleans.  I  was  then  in  a  store  at  Fawcetstown, 
now  Liverpool,  Ohio,  about  forty-eight  miles  below  Pittsburgh. 

"I  well  remember  the  alarm  created  by  its  sudden  appearance. 
Few  had  heard  of  the  boat,  and  none  expected  it.  With  its  lever 
beam  moving  up  and  down,  it  looked  like  a  floating  sawmill,  for  the 
cabin  was  below,  and  no  upper  works  on  the  deck.  With  our  towns- 
people, it  was  a  source  of  marvelous  relation  to  the  surrounding  neigh- 
bors for  years  afterward. 

"  During  the  same  autumn,  we  had  another  incident  to  relieve  the 
dull  monotony  of  village  life.  The  news  of  the  battle  of  Tippecanoe 
reached  us,  and,  as  usual,  the  story  had  lost  nothing  by  traveling. 
We  had  wonderful  rejoicing  on  the  occasion.  Guns  were  fired,  run- 
ners were  sent  out,  and  the  people  came  flocking  in  from  the  surround- 
ing country  to  hear  the  news.  The  consumption  of  gunpowder  and 
whisky  was,  of  course,  large,  and,  toward  the  close  of  the  ceremonies, 
several  of  the  citizens  became  quite  fatigued  with  their  patriotic 
efforts. 

"  In  December,  1811,  I  went  back  to  Pittsburgh,  and  witnessed  the 
great  alarm  caused  by  the  earthquakes  in  that  month.  A  few  years 
afterward,  I  saf  their  effects  on  the  country  around  New  Madrid, 
where  they  were  more  disastrous  than  at  any  other  point  in  the  Mis- 
sissippi Valley. 

"  The  next  boat  built  at  Pittsburgh  was  the  *  Vesuvius.'  I  saw  her 
launched  in  the  autumn  of  1813 — I  think  in  November.  I  also  saw 
the  little  steamboat  'Enterprise,'  built  at  Brownsville,  pass  down,  late 
in  the  year  1814,  and  witnessed  her  return  to  Pittsburgh  in  the  spring 
of  1815.  She  was  the  first  boat  that  reached  that  place  from  New 
Orleans,  and  caused  an  immense  sensation  at  the  time.  Many  said 
then,  'Good-bye  to  keel-boats  and  barges;1  but  others  thought  the 
new  experiment  in  navigation  would  not  succeed. 

"  The  steamboat  '^Etna  '  was  the  next.  She  was  built  at  Pittsburgh 
in  1814,  and  in  1815  was  employed  as  a  tow-boat  below  New  Orleans. 
In  the  fall  of  the  same  year  she  made  a  trip  to  Louisville  in  sixty 
days,  having  lost  about  thirty  by  breaking  of  her  machinery  and  other 
detentions.  This  was  the  first  large  boat  that  came  up  to  Louisville 
from  New  Orleans.  From  this  period  until  1821  I  was  conversant 
5 


66 


ROBERT     FULTON. 


with  the  movements  of  all  the  steamboats  on  the  Western  waters,  for 
they  were  few  in  numbers  and  soon  told." 

Fulton  gave  his  valuable  assistance  to  the  construction  of  the  Erie 
Canal  and  other  public  works.  After  war  was  declared  between 
Great  Britain  and  the  United  States,  in  1814,  Mr.  Fulton  again  di- 
rected his  attention  to  the  subject  of  torpedoes,  sub-marine  guns, 
and  other  instruments  of  the  kind;  but  none  of  his  schemes  were 
ever  brought  into  practice. 

He  erected,  however,  a  steam-ship  of  war  (named  "  Fulton  the 
First"),  of  such  size,  that  several  thousand  men  might  parade  on  her 
deck,  and  capable  of  throwing  an  immense  quantity  of  red-hot  shot 
from  her  numerous  port-holes.  But  when  the  engineer  of  this  magni- 
ficent structure  had  nearly  seen  it  completed,  he  was  removed  from 
his  country  and  his  friends.  Having  exposed  himself  too  long  on  the 
deck  of  his  steam-frigate,  in  bad  weather,  he  was  seized  with  a  severe 
pulmonary  affection,  and  died  on  the  24th  of  February,  1815. 

We  have  no  desire  to  depreciate  the  fame  of  Mr.  Fulton,  but  he 
acquired  his  reputation  very  largely  from  fortuitous  circumstances. 
His  wealthy  associates  in  steamboat  projects  had  long  been  struggling 
for  success,  and  knew  their  interests  were  deeply  involved  in  his  and 
their  achieving  it ;  they,  therefore,  found  it  convenient  for  them  to 
write  him  into  fame.  His  career  with  the  steamboat  was  but  for  a  few 
years  in  middle  life,  and  it  was  cut  short  by  a  sudden  and  rapid 
illness.  His  wife  was  Miss  Harriet  Livingston ;  family  influence 
coupled  with  the  final  success  of  steam  navigation  under  his  nominal 
leadership  led  to  the  deification  of  his  memory  to  an  extent  that  can 
scarcely  be  accounted  for  on  any  rational  basis,  now  that  we  know  the 
facts  as  to  the  originality  of  his  so-called  invention. 

In  person,  Mr.  Fulton  was  tall  and  well  proportioned.  He  was 
an  excellent  man  in  his  private  character,  being  generous,  affectionate, 
and  humane.  To  him,  rating  his  deeds  even  as  low*  as  some  critics 
would  make  them,  the  human  race  owes  much.  The  waters  of  half 
the  world  are  now  covered  with  models  of  that  admirable  machine 
which  sixty  years  ago  he  successfully  set  afloat  on  the  waters  of  the 
Hudson,  never  more  to  cease  moving ;  and  now  the  journey  between 
the  Old  and  New  World,  whether  across  the  Atlantic  or  Pacific,  is, 
by  the  same  means,  made  a  pleasure  trip  of  a  few  summer  days. 
Steam  vessels  float  constantly  in  all  the  great  routes  of  commerce. 
Whether  in  the  North  Sea,  the  Mediterranean,  or  on  the  Indian 
Ocean  ;  whether  on  the  Ganges,  in  the  Amoor,  on  the  Danube,  the 
Thames,  the  Nile,  or  the  Niger, — on  the  Amazon,  the  Mississippi, 
Missouri,  Yellowstone,  the  Columbia,  or  the  Ohio, — on  the  great  in- 
land seas  of  America  or  the  Old  World, — steam  is  all-powerful  and 
ubiquitous ;  on  sea  and  on  land  it  is  the  servant  of  man. 


FRENCH  AND  SHREVE 


WERE  leading  names  in  early  steamboat  navigation  on  the 
Ohio.  'It  is  a  curious  fact  that  two  years  prior  to  the  date  of 
Fulton's  patent,  in  1811,  Daniel  French,  of  New  York,  obtained  a 
patent  for  a  steamboat  and  engine,  October  i2th,  1809.  Fulton  had 
probably  felt  himself  comparatively  safe  under  the  special  privileges 
of  the  New  York  and  Louisiana  statutes.  It  was  in  the  early  spring 
of  1809  that  Nicholas  J.  Roosevelt,  in  the  interest  of  Fulton,  visited 
Pittsburgh,  and  commenced  his  investigations,  looking  to  the  naviga- 
tion by  steam  of  the  Ohio  and  Mississippi.  It  was,  however,  not 
until  twenty  months  after  the  "Orleans"  had  started  on  her  trip  to 
Natchez  that  the  first  small  experiment  of  French's  was  completed  at 
Pittsburgh.  The  "  Comet  "  was  built  by  Samuel  Smith,  on  the  plans 
of  French,  with  a  stern  wheel,  and  with  what  he  called  a  vibrating 
cylinder.  Her  first  trip  was  to  Louisville  and  back  in  the  summer 
of  1813.  The  following  year  she  took  her  departure,  early  in  the 
spring,  for  New  Orleans,  and  in  July  started  on  her  return,  but 
grounded  on  a  sand  bar  several  hundred  miles  up  the  river,  where 
she  remained  until  floated  off  by  high  water  in  December.  The  two 
following  years,  1815-16,  she  took  the  place  of  the  "Orleans,"  in 
the  Natchez  trade.  She  was  partially  burned  opposite  New  Orleans, 
but  was  rebuilt,  and  made  several  trips  to  the  falls  at  Louisville,  but 
finally  closed  her  career  in  the  Natchez  trade,  in  1820. 

Another  boat,  the  "Enterprise,"  is  stated  in  FarnswortH  s  Cincin- 
nati Directory,  of  1820,  to  have  been  built  at  Brownsville,  Penn.,  of 
forty-five  tons  burden,  by  French,  under  the  same  patent,  and  to 
have  made  two  voyages  to  the  falls  at  Louisville  in  the  summer  of 
1814,  under  the  command  of  Captain  I.  Gregg.  One  of  the  stock- 
holders in  the  "Enterprise"  was  Captain  Henry  M.  Shreve.  He 
was  absent  on  a  trip  to  New  Orleans,  in  command  of  a  barge  of 
his  own,  when  the  steamer  was  finished,  and,  therefore,  it  was 
placed  temporarily  under  command  of  Gregg.  Up  to  about  this 


68  FRENCH     AND     SHREVE. 

time — according  to  a  lecture  delivered  by  Judge  James  Hall,  of 
Cincinnati,  thirty  years  later — "the  whole  commerce  from  New- 
Orleans  to  the  upper  country  was  carried  in  about  twenty  barges, 
averaging  one  hundred  tons  each,  and  making  but  one  trip  in  the 
year;  so  that  the  importations  through  New  Orleans  in  one  year 
could  not  much  have  exceeded  the  freight  by  one  of  our  largest 
steamers  in  the  course  of  the  season.  On  the  Upper  Ohio  there  were 
about  one  hundred  and  fifty  keel-boats  of  about  thirty  tons  each, 
which  made  the  voyage  frorA  Pittsburgh  to  Louisville  and  back  in 
two  months,  or  about  three  such  trips  in  a  year."  Dr.  McMurtrie, 
of  Louisville,  says  "  there  were  only  six  keel-boats  and  two  barges 
owned  on  the  Ohio  river  in  1806 ;  in  connection  with  the  flat-boats 
and  pirogues  in  use,  they  then  sufficed  for  the  entire  carrying  trade 
of  the  river." 

These  flat-boats,  or  arks,  were  usually  built  of  green  oak  planks, 
rudely  pinned  together  in  such  a  manner  as  to  answer  for  the  de- 
scending voyage  to  New  Orleans,  or  elsewhere,  when  they  were 
abandoned,  and  their  crews  returned  on  foot  overland  through  a 
wilderness  inhabited  by  hostile  Indian  tribes ;  such  a  life  was  full  of 
wild  adventure.  These  were  the  earliest  pioneers  of  Western  trade, 
but  under  this  system  commerce  could  scarcely  be  said  to  exist.  A 
few  keel-boats  and  pirogues  made  ascending  voyages  under  extreme 
difficulties,  but  with  such  transportation  there  could  be  but  little 
trade.  Almost  the  only  demand  for  farm  produce  was  caused  by  im- 
migration from  the  east.  Oats  and  corn  were  perhaps  ten  cents,  and 
wheat  thirty  to  forty  cents  a  bushel.  To  the  flat-boat,  pirogue,  and 
keel-boat,  propelled  by  setting  poles  and  oars,  succeeded  barges  with 
sails.  The  propulsion  of  boats  by  sails  was  not  of  course  new,  but 
previously  it  had  been  thought  impossible  to  use  canvas  advantage- 
ously in  navigating  the  rapid  waters  of  the  Mississippi  Valley.  When 
this  new  mode  of  navigation  came  into  use,  Henry  M.  Shreve  came 
upon  the  stage  of  action.  He  was  twenty-nine  when  he  took  charge 
of  the  little  steamer  "Enterprise." 

In  the  year  1787,  while  the  Revolutionary  Fathers  were  framing 
the  Federal  Constitution  at  Philadelphia,  and  John  Fitch  was  offer- 
ing them  free  rides  in  his  steamer  on  the  Delaware,  Colonel  Israel 
Shreve,  who  had  commanded  the  Second  Regiment  of  New  Jersey 
Patriots,  migrated  from  his  old  Quaker  homestead,  in  Burlington 
County,  New  Jersey,  to  "  Washington  Bottom,"  in  the  valley  of  the 
Monongahela,  and  purchased  a  farm  on  the  first  tract  of  land  surveyed 
west  of  the  Alleghanies,  by  Washington,  in  1748.  Henry  Miller 
Shreve  was  born  October  2ist,  1785,  at  the  homestead  of  his  parents, 
in  New  Jersey,  and,  therefore,  was  not  two  years  old  when  the  new 
home  in  Pennsylvania  was  taken  possession  of.  Although  the  family 
were  Quakers,  and  bound  by  their  rules  to  non-resistance,  the  father 
and  his  eldest  son,  John  Shreve — who  was  a  lieutenant  under  the 
father — had  obeyed  the  summons  to  the  field  at  the  opening  of  the 


SHREVE      COMMANDER     OF      A     BARGE.  69 

Revolution,  and  fought  gallantly  at  Brandywine  and  elsewhere  through- 
out that  great  contest  for  liberty.  When  the  family  had  pitched  their 
tent  among  the  hardy  pioneers  on  the  borders,  they  could,  with  the 
rest  of  the  settlers,  divide  their  time  between  their  farms  and  the 
Indian  wars.  At  all  times  they  must  be  prepared  to  meet  the  wily 
savage,  with  his  tomahawk  and  scalping-knife.  In  such  surroundings 
the  young  grew  to  manhood  inured  to  hardship,  quick  to  discern  and 
repel  danger,  and  skilled  in  the  use  of  the  rifle. 

Arrived  at  his  majority,  after  receiving  his  education  in  a  school 
so  well  calculated  to  train  him  for  the  sterner  duties  of  life  in  the 
great  region  where  his  lot  was  cast,  young  Shreve  determined,  in 
1807,  to  build  at  Brownsville,  on  the  Monongahela,  a  barge  of  thirty- 
five  tons  burden.  He  manned  it  with  a  crew  of  ten  men,  for  a 
voyage  to  St.  Louis,  where  he  landed,  after  a  trip  of  forty  days,  late 
in  December.  He  purchased  a  cargo  of  furs,  and  on  his  return  to 
Pittsburgh  forwarded  them  to  Philadelphia.  He  continued  in  this 
trade  for  three  years  on  his  own  account,  and  with  considerable  profit, 
numbering  himself  among  those  who  began  thus  a  commerce  be- 
tween two  cities  whose  transactions  with  each  other  now  reach  several 
millions  annually. 

In  1810,  after  careful  consideration,  he  determined  to  try  his  for- 
tunes in  a  new  field,  which  had  been  mainly  worked  by  British 
traders,  and  on  the  2d  of  May,  in  a  new  barge  of  thirty-five  tons, 
manned  by  twelve  men,  and  loaded  with  a  finely  assorted  cargo, 
Captain  Shreve  left  St.  Louis  for  Fever  River.  After  various  deten- 
sions  to  hunt  food,  etc.,  he  landed  where  Galena  now  stands,  after 
a  trip  of  fourteen  days.  He  began  his  traffic  with  the  Indians,  and 
in  six  weeks  had  bought  sixty  tons  of  lead.  With  so  great  a  weight, 
he  was  forced  to  build  a  flat-boat,  and  to  buy  a  Mackinaw  boat  to 
transport  his  return  cargo.  After  a  voyage  of  twelve  days  he  arrived 
at  St.  Louis,  but  continued  on  to  New  Orleans,  and  shipped  vthe  lead 
thence  to  Philadelphia,  and  from  the  venture  realized  a  profit  of 
over  $11,000.  This  was  the  first  beginning  of  the  American  lead 
trade  on  the  Upper  Mississippi ;  but  so  many  went  into  the  trade 
from  St.  Louis,  that  the  business  was  soon  overdone.  Captain  Shreve 
returned  to  Brownsville,  where  he  built  a  barge  of  ninety-five  tons, 
with  which  he  entered  upon  regular  voyages  between  Pittsburgh  and 
New  Orleans,  in  which  he  continued  for  four  years. 

The  difficulties  of  river  navigation  at  that  period  can  not  well  be 
appreciated.  Each  voyage  consumed  six  months,  and  was  attended 
with  extreme  toil,  great  expense  and  imminent  peril.  During  a 
favorable  wind,  barges  would  float  gently  down  the  stream  with  the 
aid  of  sails  and  oars,  guided  with  the  utmost  care  and  diligence 
through  the  forests  of  snags,  among  which  the  vessel  in  its  tortuous 
course  was  to  thread  its  way.  At  other  times  oars  and  "setting 
poles"  were  the  sole  resort.  The  force  of  the  current  bore  them 
rapidly  forward,  but  subjected  them  to  the  constant  danger  of  strik- 


70  FRENCH     AND     SHREVE. 

ing  a  snag,  sawyer  or  sunken  root,  and  going  down  with  their  cargoes 
at  a  moment's  warning.  In  ascending  voyages,  the  cordelle  was  used 
at  the  more  dangerous  and  difficult  points,  and  the  barges  dragged 
up  stream  by  main  force — many  of  those  boats  of  over  one  hundred 
tons  requiring  a  crew  for  their  management  of  forty  men.  This  was 
the  improved  mode  of  performing  those  early  voyages  of  2,000  miles 
in  general  use  from  1804  to  1814.  In  less  than  thirty-five  years  after- 
ward the  inland  commerce  on  the  15,000  miles  of  rivers  of  this  great 
central  valley  had  grown  to  be  more  than  double  the  whole  foreign 
trade  of  the  Republic.  On  these  great  arteries  nature  had  prepared 
the  way  for  a  thriving  commerce,  but  thews  of  iron  and  the  mighty 
pulsations  of  steam  were  requisite  to  stem  the  current  of  these  rush- 
ing streams.  Cropping  out  on  the  very  margins  of  the  noble  water 
courses,  waiting  for  the  progressive  movements  soon  to  be  ushered 
in,  lay  boundless  stores  of  fuel — black  diamonds — ready  to  shine  upon 
the  face  of  man  and  bring  him  untold  millions  of  wealth  whenever, 
by  his  craft,  the  sun  should  track  his  way  to  their  slightly  hidden 
recesses.  Down  to  the  water's  edge  for  thousands  of  miles  were 
myriads  of  acres  of  timber  lands  awaiting  the  axe  of  the  woodsman. 
Frontiersmen  had  scaled  the  Alleghanies  and  beaten  back  the  Indian 
tribes,  in  the  full  expectation  that  new  avenues  to  wealth  would  be 
opened  to  them.  If  steam-power  had  not  come  to  their  relief, 
what  now  would  have  been  the  relative  condition  of  the  Mississippi 
Valley  ? 

Navigation  in  the  quiet  bays  and  on  the  short  rivers  of  the  Atlantic 
was  not  the  problem  to  be  worked  out,  for  sailing  vessels  could  solve 
those  difficulties  with  the  aid  of  fair  winds  and  the  tides  of  old  ocean  ; 
but  the  problem  to  be  solved  was,  whether  steam  vessels  could  be 
forced  through  the  main  arteries  into  the  very  heart  of  the  continent. 
In  due  time  we  shall  see  what  Captain  Shreve  was  enabled  to  accom- 
plish for  the  good  of  his  fellows.  We  have  seen  how  much  his  ex- 
perience had  done  to  fit  him  for  the  work  now  before  him. 

On  the  ist  of  December,  1814,  Captain  Shreve  left  Pittsburgh  in 
command  of  the  steamer  "Enterprise,"  French's  diminutive  little 
craft,  but  half  the  size  of  the  barge  he  had  commanded  for  four  years 
previously  in  the  like  long  voyage  of  2,000  miles  through  the  great 
bends  of  the  Ohio  and  Mississippi.  He  had  on  board  what  he  in 
patriotic  pride  felt  to  be  precious  freight,  in  a  load  of  ordinance  and 
military  stores  for  General  Jackson's  army  at  New  Orleans.  About 
two  months  previously  three  keel-boats,  laden  with  small  arms  for  the 
same  army,  had  left  Pittsburgh,  but  under  permission  to  trade  by  the 
way — a  strange  contract  which  endangered,  it  is  said,  the  safety  of 
New  Orleans,  then  threatened  by  the  British  expedition  under  Gen- 
eral Pakenham.  In  his  voyage,  Captain  Shreve  felt  a  double  anxiety; 
for  the  trip  was  his  first  in  a  steam  vessel,  and  the  supplies  he  was  car- 
rying were  of  the  first  importance  to  the  best  interests  of  his  country. 
Born  of  good  Revolutionary  stock,  an  ardent  Republican,  and  a  warm 


SHREVE  AND  THE  BATTLE  OF  NEW  ORLEANS.     "]I 

advocate  of  the  war  then  waging.against  England,  he  felt  in  common 
with  the  people  of  the  West  extreme  indignation  at  the  burning  of 
Washington  City  by  the  enemy.  He  knew  that  it  was  of  vast  mo- 
ment that  General  Jackson  should  receive  his  military  supplies  with- 
out delay,  and  in  a  fortnight  they  were  safely  landed  in  camp.  As 
anticipated,  he  found  great  excitement  prevailing  on  his  arrival  in 
New  Orleans,  and  after  receiving  the  thanks  of  the  commanding 
General,  he  was  ordered  to  proceed  up  the  Mississippi  and  tow  down 
the  long  delayed  keel-boats.  He  was  absent  six  and  one-half  days, 
during  which  time  his  little  steamer  had  run  654  miles,  and  then  he 
returned  to  New  Orleans  with  the  small  arms  and  amunition  so  much 
needed.  From  that  time  to  the  jd  of  January,  he  was  engaged  in 
transporting  materiel  from  the  city  to  the  final  battle-ground  of  the 
8th  of  that  month.  On  the  3d,  he  received  notice  that  the  com- 
mander-in-chief  desired  him  to  call  at  head-quarters,  which  he  imme- 
diately did. 

On  reporting  himself  to  General  Jackson  he  was  accosted  as  follows  : 
"  Capt.  Shreve,  I  understand  that  you  are  a  man  who  will  always  do 
what  you  undertake.  Can  you  pass  the  British  batteries  on  the  bank 
of  the  river  nine  miles  below,  and  with  your  steamer  bear  supplies  to 
Fort  St.  Philips?"  After  a  moment's  reflection,  which  convinced 
him  of  the  extreme  danger  of  the  enterprise,  and  suggested  a  mode  of 
success,  he  answered:  "Yes,  if  you  will  give  me  my  own  time." 
"What  time  do  you  require,"  asked  the  General.  "  Twenty- four 
hours,"  was  the  reply.  It  was  then  agreed  that  the  supplies  should  be 
put  on  board  the  steamer  by  4  o'clock  that  afternoon,  and  the  effort  made 
to  pass  the  British  before  the  next  morning.  It  will  be  borne  in  mind  that 
two  battles  had  been  fought  prior  to  the  interview  just  mentioned. 
The  British  were  encamped  several  miles  below  the  city,  and  had 
erected  heavy  batteries  so  as  to  command  the  river  entirely.  It  was 
of  great  moment  that  Fort  St.  Philips  should  be  relieved  before  the 
enemy  advanced,  in  order  that  it  might  be  made  the  key  to  subsequent 
operations  whatever  the  issue  of  the  impending  battle. 

That  evening,  the  steamer  was  run  down  to  the  Scud  just  above 
the  British  batteries.  The  side  most  exposed  had  been  completely 
covered  with  cotton  bales,  fastened  securely  to  the  vessel  with  iron 
hooks.  By  midnight,  as  is  usual  there,  a  dense  fog  covered  the  river, 
and  screened  all  objects  from  view.  Taking  advantage  of  that  cir- 
cumstance, Capt.  Shreve  put  his  steamer  in  motion,  under  "a  slow 
head  of  steam,"  with  muffled  wheel;  the  strictest  silence  having  first 
been  enjoined  on  the  crew.  As  anticipated  by  him,  he  passed  wholly 
unobserved  by  the  sentries  on  the  shore,  at  a  signal  from  whom  his 
vessel  would  have  been  shattered  into  fragments.  Reaching  the  Fort 
in  safety,  he  discharged  his  freight,  and  on  the  next  night  repassed  the 
batteries,  undiscovered,  until  beyond  effective  reach  of  the  enemy's 
long  guns.  Only  a  few  spent  balls  struck  the  cotton  bales  by  which 
his  vessel  was  protected.  This  daring  exploit  excited  the  greatest 


7*  HENRY    M.     SHREVE. 

admiration  in  General  Jackson's  camp,  and  received  his  marked  com- 
mendation. 

The  day  previous  to  the  battle  of  the  8th  of  January,  Captain 
Shreve  requested  permission  to  join  the  ranks ;  and  he  was  accord- 
ingly stationed  at  the  sixth  gun — a  long  twenty-four  pounder,  in  Col. 
Humphrey's  battery.  There  he  shared  in  all  the  perils  and  glories  of 
that  remarkable  victory — ready  to  aid-^his  country  in  any  manner 
possible,  and  at  all  necessary  risks.  It  was  during  those  eventful  scenes 
that  he  became  familiar  with  the  character  of  General  Jackson  ;  and 
an  intimate  friendship  sprung  up  between  them,  which  nothing  but 
death  dissolved.  He  was  one  of  the  original  seven  who  made  the 
first  demonstration  in  Louisville  in  favor  of  General  Jackson's  election 
to  the  Presidency. 

After  the  battle  of  New  Orleans,  the  steamer  "Enterprise"  was 
sent  to  the  Gulf  to  exchange  prisoners  with  the  British  fleet ;  subse- 
quently with  troops  up  the  Red  River,  and  then  made  nine  trips  to 
Natchez.  On  the  6th  of  May,  1815,  Captain  Shreve  determined  to 
make  an  effort  to  ascend  the  Mississippi  and  Ohio  to  Louisville. 
Although  every  previous  attempt  had  signally  failed,  he  was  convinced 
that  success  was  practicable.  On  the  3151  of  that  month,  the  "  Enter- 
prise" reached  Louisville — the  first  steam  vessel  that  ever  performed  tliat 
voyage.  Still  the  delays,  difficulties,  and  expense  of  the  undertaking 
rendered  it  doubtful  whether  steam  navigation  on  the  Western  rivers 
would  prove  of  any  practical  benefit. 

The  experience  acquired  by  him  while  in  command  of  that  steamer, 
wrought  out  improvements  of  momentous  value.  He  had  examined 
closely  the  engines  of  Fulton  and  French,  watched  their  operations  in 
every  particular,  studied  out  their  defects,  and  diligently  applied  his 
inventive  powers  to  devise  the  proper  remedies.  Convinced  that  the 
various  inventions  he  had  matured  in  his  own  mind  would  overcome 
the  main  obstacles  to  success,  he  abandoned  the  command  of  the 
"Enterprise"  for  the  purpose  of  testing  his  plans,  and  commenced 
the  construction  of  the  "Washington."  A  much  larger  vessel  than  the 
"Enterprise"  was  the  next  in  point  of  time,  and  was  constructed  for 
Fulton's  heirs  at  Pittsburgh.  This  was  ^the  "^Etna,"  of  360  tons 
(same  tonnage  as  the  "  Vesuvius,"  mentioned  in  the  sketch  of  Fulton). 
Her  length,  as  stated  by  her  commander,  Captain  R.  De  Hart,  was 
"153  feet  3  inches ;  breadth,  28  feet,  and  9  feet  depth  of  hold."  She 
left  Pittsburgh  in  March  and  arrived  at  New  Orleans  in  April.  "A 
lack  of  confidence  in  steam-power  to  ascend  the  Mississippi  above 
Natchez  with  a  cargo,  caused  her  to  be  employed  for  the  summer  in 
towing  ships  from  the  lower  river  up  to  New  Orleans.  Barges  then 
got  freight  in  preference  from  New  Orleans  to  the  falls  at  eight  cents 
per  pound."  Captain  De  Hart  says  further  in  his  letters  of  January 
28th,  1842,  that  "  in  the  fall  of  the  year  1815,  however,  the  river  then 
being  very  low,  some  of  the  owners  of  the  "^Etna  "  and  others  made 
another  attempt  to  ascend  with  a  load,  and  put  in  her  about  200  tons — 


HIS     NEW     BOAT     "WASHINGTON."  73 

very  few  passengers — freight  at  four  and  a  half  cents  per  pound  for 
heavy,  and  six  cents  for  light  goods.  Above  Natchez  she  had  to  de- 
pend upon  drift-wood,  and  occasionally  lying  by  two  or  three  days,  at 
civilized  settlements  getting  wood  cut  and  hauled;  broke  a  wrought 
water-wheel  shaft,  near  the  mouth  of  the  Ohio,  and  laid  at  Henderson 
nearly  fifteen  days  trying  to  weld  it,  and  at  last  had  to  end  the  passage  to 
the  falls  with  one  wheel  in  sixty  days."  At  Louisville  had  two  shafts 
cast.  Her  trip  down,  with  about  300  tons  freight,  at  about  one  cent  per 
pound,  was  made  in  seven  days.  Her  next  trip  up  was  made  early 
in  1816,  under  many  of  the  same  difficulties,  in  about  thirty  days,  and 
broke  the  other  wrought  shaft  by  drift-wood  in  ascending  the 
Ohio. 

The,  "Buffalo,"  300  tons,  and  "James  Monroe,"  120  tons,  were  next 
in  order,  and  were  built  by  a  Mr.  Latrobe,  at  Pittsburgh,  but  seems  to 
have  been  sacrificed  at  a  sale  under  the  hammer  of  the  sheriff.  The 
latter  went  into  the  Natchez  trade.  Then  Captain  Shreve's  new  boat 
the  "Washington,"  400  tons  burden,  made  its  appearance.  She  was 
built  at  Wheeling,  in  accordance  with  his  directions,  while  he  super- 
intended, in  person,  the  constnlction  of  his  new  engines  at  Brownsville. 
That  steamboat  was  the  first  "two-decker"  on  the  western  waters. 
In  appearance  it  resembled  a  dismasted  frigate,  the  cabin  being 
between  decks.  Previously,  the  boiler  had  always  been  placed  in  the 
hold  of  the  vessel;  and,  under  Fulton's  patent,  upright  and  stationary 
cylinders  used — under  French's  the  vibrating  cylinder.  Despite  the 
ridicule  with  which  his  suggestions  were  received,  he  ordered  the 
cylinder  to  be  placed  in  a  horizontal  position,  and  the  vibration  to  be 
given  to  the  pitman.  Fulton  and  French  used  a  single  low-pressure 
engine;  Captain  S.  built  a  double,  high-pressure  engine,  (the  first 
used  on  the  Western  rivers,)  with  cranks  at  right-angles,  and  the 
boilers  on  the  upper  deck.  Mr.  David  Prentice  had  previously  em- 
ployed the  cam  wheel  for  working  the  valves  to  the  cylinder ;  and 
Captain  Shreve  added  his  great  invention  of  the  "cam  cut-off,"  by 
which  three-fifths  of  the  fuel  was  saved.  Most  of  these  improvements, 
originating  with  him,  have  long  been  in  universal  use,  although  their 
origin  has  not  been  generally  known.  The  "Washington,"  when 
finished,  was,  in  every  essential  part,  unlike  any  other  steam-vessel 
then  known.  The  machinery  weighed  only  one-twentieth  as  much  as 
the  Fulton  engine,  and  was  worked  with  about  one-half  the  usual 
amount  of  fuel.  The  alterations  and  improvements  by  Captain  S. 
made  the  engine  essentially  a  new  machine;  and  in  the  course  of  a 
few  years,  no  other  model  way  used  west  of  the  Alleghanies.  If 
Fulton's  inventions  entitle  him  to  the  great  fame  awarded  by  the 
world,  why  should  not  equal  merit  be  accorded  to  Captain  Shreve, 
whose  improvements  superseded  all  others  more  than  fifty  years  ago  ? 

On  the  24th  of  September,  1816,  the  "  Washington  "  passed  over 
the  Falls  of  the  Ohio,  on  her  first  trip  to  New  Orleans,  returning  to 
Louisville  in  November  following.  The  trial  was  eminently  success- 


74  HENRY    M.    SHREVE. 

ful.  At  New  Orleans  she  was  visited  by  the  most  distinguished  citi- 
zens of  the  place,  all  of  whom  expressed  surprise  and  admiration  at 
the  ingenuity  of  her  commander.  Edward  Livingston,  after  a  critical 
examination,  remarked  to  Captain  S.:  "  You  deserve  well  of  your 
country,  young  man ;  but  we  (referring  to  the  Fulton  and  Livingston 
monopoly)  shall  be  compelled  to  beat  you  (in  the  courts)  if  we  can." 
The  ascending  voyage  to  Louisville  demonstrated  satisfactorily  the 
practicability  of  resisting  by  steam  the  currents  of  the  Mississippi. 
In  consequence  of  the  ice  in  the  Ohio  River,  and  continued  low 
water,  the  "  Washington  "  remained  at  the  falls  until  March  3d,  1817. 
On  that  day  she  started  on  the  voyage,  from  which  all  Western  his- 
torians date  the  commencement  of  steam  navigation  in  the  Mississippi 
Valley.  She  was  heavily  laden,  both  in  descending  and  ascending, 
and  crowded  with  passengers.  From  the  time  of  starting  to  her 
return  to  the  landing  at  Shippingport,  just  below  Louisville,  includ- 
ing all  detentions  at  New  Orleans  and  elsewhere,  only  forty-one  days 
were  consumed  ;  the  ascending  voyage  being  made  in  twenty-five  days. 
"  This  was  the  trip,"  said  the  early  historian  of  Cincinnati,  "  which 
convinced  the  despairing  public,  that  steamboat  navigation  would 
succeed  on  the  Western  waters."  To  commemorate  the  event,  and 
express  their  gratitude  for  the  triumphant  solution  of  the  great  prob- 
lem of  the  day,  the  citizens  of  Louisville  gave  him  a  public  dinner, 
and  hailed  him  as  the  first  of  benefactors  to  the  Mississippi  Valley. 
In  reply  to  a  complimentary  sentiment,  he  predicted  that  the  time 
was  not  distant  when  the  ascending  trip  from  New  Orleans  to  Louis- 
ville would  be  made  in  ten  days — a  prediction  received  with  incredu- 
lity, even  by  those  who  had  then  met  to  celebrate  an  event,  of  which 
they  had  previously  despaired.  That  prediction  was  not  a  random 
statement,  but  a  conclusion  formed  from  accurate  mathematical  cal- 
culations. That  prediction  has  been  more  than  verified  since.  The 
trip  has  been  made  in  less  than  half  the  time.  On  his  return  to  New 
Orleans,  his  friends  hastened  on  board,  eagerly  inquiring  what  acci- 
dent had  forced  him  to  put  back — none  of  them  supposing  that  he 
had  been  to  Louisville  since  they  last  parted  with  him.  Out  of  the 
profits  of  those  two  voyages  he  paid  all  the  expenses  of  running  the 
steamer,  the  original  cost  of  the  construction,  and  divided  among  the 
stockholders  a  surplus  of  seventeen  hundred  dollars. 

Several  efforts  on  the  part  of  Spain,  France,  and  England  to  com- 
mand the  navigation  of  the  Mississippi  River  were  made,  but  the 
General  Government  and  the  Western  pioneers  resisted  all  such  efforts. 
In  1788,  Congress  resolved  that  they  had  no  intention  to  give  up  to 
Spain  the  navigation  of  that  river — "  that  the  free  navigation  of  the 
river  Mississippi  is  a  clear  and  essential  right  of  the  United  States." 
But  a  corporation  nearly  effected  in  1815  what  had  been  so  resolutely 
opposed  for  more  than  a  century.  At  an  early  day  after  his  patent 
had  been  obtained,  Fulton  associated  himself  with  Robert  R.  Living- 
ston, of  New  York,  with  the  view  of  monopolizing  the  trade  of  the 


HIS    VESSEL    SEIZED. 


75 


Western  States  and  Territories.  Failing  to  procure  a  charter  from 
several  Legislatures  to  which  they  applied,  they  finally  obtained,  in 
1811,  an  act  of  incorporation  from  "Orleans  Territory,"  granting  to 
them  the  exclusive  right  "  to  navigate  all  vessels  propelled  by  fire  and 
steam  on  the  rivers  in  said  Territory."  By  an  abuse  of  its  powers, 
the  territorial  Legislature  sought  to  place  in  the  hands  of  a  soulless 
monopoly  the  keys  to  Western  commerce — an  occlusion  of  the  Missis- 
sippi, as  fatal  to  trade  as  that  attempted  by  the  French  Government 
in  1802.  That  corporation  laid  its  relentless  grasp  on  the  Father  of 
Waters,  resolved  not  to  relax  its  hold,  but  to  extort  tribute,  for  all 
coming  time,  from  the  people  of  half  the  continent.  It  dared  not 
rely  on  Fulton's  patent,  for  the  invention  of  Fitch  claimed  prece- 
dence, and  French's  ingenuity  had  secured  a  patent  equally  valuable ; 
hence  it  sought,  by  corporate  privileges,  to  make  trade  subservient 
to  the  aggrandizement  of  the  few,  instead  of  leaving  it  open  to  hon- 
orable competition.  Among  those  who  felt  indignant  at  the  outrage, 
Captain  Shreve  stood  foremost.  He  determined  to  resist  such  exac- 
tions in  every  way  known  to  the  laws.  Anticipating  that  a  protracted 
legal  controversy  would  commence  as  soon  as  the  steamer  "  Enter- 
prise "  arrived  at  New  Orleans,  he  had  consulted  while  there  with 
his  barge,  in  the  spring  of  1814,  A.  L.  Duncan,  Esq.,  one  of  the 
most  prominent  members  of  the  bar,  and  gave  him  five  hundred 
dollars  as  a  retaining  fee,  together  with  a  bond  for  fifteen  hundred 
more,  to  be  paid  on  the  successful  termination  of  the  impending  suit. 
That  foresight  was  fortunate;  for,  on  learning  that  the  "  Enterprise  " 
was  on  her  way  down  the  river,  the  company  retained  in  its  service 
the  whole  New  Orleans  bar,  and  offered  to  Mr.  Duncan  three 
thousand  dollars  if  he  would  remain  silent.  But  he  frankly  replied 
that  he  was  Captain  Shreve's  counsel,  and  had  advised  him  to  oppose 
the  pretensions  or  demands  of  the  corporation.  On  the  first  arrival 
of  that  steamboat,  however,  New  Orleans  was  under  martial  law,  and 
she  was  not  seized  until^tay  6th,  1815,  the  day  fixed  for  her  depart- 
ure for  Pittsburgh  ;  but  his  counsel,  anticipating  the  step,  had  the 
necessary  bail  ready.  The  "Enterprise"  was  accordingly  released, 
and  pursued  her  voyage.  In  a  few  months  the  trial  took  place  in 
the  inferior  court,  and  the  jury  promptly  returned  a  verdict  in  favor 
of  "free  navigation."  The  cause  was  removed  by  writ  of  error  to 
the  Supreme  Court  of  the  Territory;  and  the  act  of  incorporation 
was  there  pronounced  unconstitutional,  in  the  year  1816.  But  that 
colossal  monopoly  resolved  not  to  relinquish  its  privileges  on  the  first 
defeat.  Hence,  when  the  "Washington"  reached  New  Orleans,  in 
the  fall  of  1816,  she  was  also  seized,  and  Captain  Shreve  arrested.  By 
advice  of  his  counsel,  he  refused  to  give  bail,  and  the  officer  expostu- 
lated with  him  strongly,  offering  to  receive  his  bond  without  sureties, 
rather  than  take  him  to  prison.  While  they  were  conversing,  how- 
ever, the  rumor  had  spread  along  the  levee,  and  an  immense  crowd 
collected,  determined  to  oppose  the  arrest.  At  the  request  of  Cap- 


76  HENRY    M.     SHREVE. 

tain  Shreve,  no  outbreak  occurred,  and  he  agreed  to  go  to  the  office 
of  Mr.  Edward  Livingston,  who,  with  John  R.  Grymes,  was  the  prin- 
cipal counsel  for  the  company.  The  crowd  followed ;  but  on  reach- 
ing Mr.  Livingston's  office,  Captain  Shreve  was  prudently  released. 
The  steamer,  when  seized,  was  instantly  abandoned  to  the  Marshal ; 
and  Mr.  Duncan  applied  to  the  Court  for  an  order  on  the  company 
to.  give  bail  for  damages,  caused  by  her  detention.  Messrs.  Living- 
ston and  Grymes  resisted  the  motion,  but  it  was  granted.  They  then 
became  seriously  alarmed  for  their  monopoly.  Public  sentiment 
cheered  on  their  opponent,  eminent  jurists  sustained  his  cause,  and 
he  could  not  be  intimidated  into  a  compromise.  Messrs.  Livingston 
and  Grymes  offered  him  in  behalf  of  their  clients,  one-half  of  all  the 
advantages  of  their  monopoly,  if  he  would  instruct  his  counsel  to  so 
shape  the  defense  as  to  cause  a  verdict  to  be  rendered  against  him. 
The  temptation  was  powerful,  but  he  had  commenced  the  controversy 
for  other  objects  than  private  gain.  He  felt  the  force  of  his  position — 
that  on  him  hung  the  right  of  free  navigation — that  his  companions 
on  the  waters  of  the  West  looked  to  him  as  their  leader  and  repre- 
sentative in  the  struggle ;  and  he  was  equal  to  the  occasion.  He  had 
dared  to  risk  his  fortune  in  a  contest,  single-handed,  against  the  most 
powerful  monopoly  of  the  times,  and  the  same  spirit  which  prompted 
him  to  resist  at  first,  impelled  him  to  spurn  the  bribe  and  lose  this 
chance  for  great  wealth.  The  issue  was  one  of  vast  moment  to  the 
millions  who  received  the  benefits  of  the  free  navigation  of  the  Mis- 
sissippi and  its  branches. 

At  this  period,  1817,  there  had  been  built  on  the  Ohio  about  fifteen 
boats,  several  of  them  under  one  hundred  tons  capacity ;  besides  those 
mentioned  already  there  had  appeared  the  "Franklin,"  125  tons, 
and  the  "Oliver  Evans,"  seventy-five  tons,  both  built  in  Pittsburgh, 
with  engines  made  by  George  Evans  under  Oliver  Evans's  engine 
patent.  Then  came  the  "Harriet,"  forty  tons,  from  Pittsburgh,  the 
"  Kentucky,"  eighty  tons,  from  Frankfort,  an\i  the  "  General  Shelby," 
ninety  tons,  constructed  at  Louisville,  but  having  a  Boulton  and  Watts 
engine.  Following  these  appeared,  in  1817,  the  "  New  Orleans,"  300 
tons,  built  by  the  Fulton  and  Livingston  interest  at  Pittsburgh  for  the 
Natchez  trade ;  she  was  sunk  once  at  Baton  Rouge,  and  two  months 
after  being  raised  was  lost  by  sinking  at  New  Orleans.  After  this 
date  we  hear  nothing  further  of  Fulton's  boats  on  the  Western  rivers. 

After  the  memorable  success  of  Captain  Shreve  with  the  "  Wash- 
ington," all  fears  respecting  the  navigation  of  Western  .waters  by 
steamboats  seem  to  have  vanished.  Boat-yards  were  established  at 
convenient  points  and  steamboat  building  was  active.  It  is  difficult, 
at  this  late  day,  to  appreciate  the  enthusiasm  excited  among  "  the 
people  of  the  West  "  over  the  achievements  of  the  "  Washington" 
and  her  gallant  captain.  Dr.  McMurtrie,  in  his  sketches  of  Louisville, 
published  in  1819,  remarks:  "Next  to  Fulton  the  Western  country 
owes  a  vast  debt  of  gratitude  to  Captain  Henry  M.  Shreve.  It  is  to 


AND     FREE     NAVIGATION.  77 

his  exertions,  his  example,  and,  let  me  add,  to  his  integrity  and 
patriotic  purity  of  principle,  that  it  is  indebted  for  the  present  flour- 
ishing state  of  its  navigation.  The  offer  of  the  Livingston  Company 
was  rejected  with  scorn  and  indignation,  and  the  affair  left  to  justice, 
whose  sword  instantly  severed  the  links  that  enchained  commerce  on 
the  Western  rivers."  Had  Shreve  been  weak  and  grasping,  how 
different  the  result !  How  long  would  the  great  monopoly  have  held 
control  of  steamboats,  and  the  prices  of  transportation  for  freight  and 
passengers?  Fulton  had  really  almost  no  legitimate  claim  to  origi- 
nality in  connection  with  the  steamboat;  he  had,  however,  secured 
the  co-operation  of  large  capitalists,  who,  after  quarreling  with  each 
other  over  the  steam  apparatus  of  Watt,  John  Fitch,  John  Stevens, 
and  Robert  R.  Livingston,  had  finally  concluded  to  join  forces  and 
take  the  country,  at  least  the  fluid  portions  of  it,  and  put  it  in  charge 
of  their  monster  leviathan ;  but  justice,  under  an  overruling  Provi- 
dence, brought  their  counsels  to  naught,  and  gave  to  the  wings  of 
commerce  on  water,  the  power  of  steam  free  of  all  constraint,  as 
came  to  be  as  palpably  the  fact  on  land  a  few  years  later,  when  the 
locomotive  sprang  upon  the  iron  track,  ready  to  move  in  all  its  pon- 
derous power  and  winged  fleetness,  without  paying  tribute  to  patent 
laws,  or  being  in  the  least  restrained  from  fulfilling  its  destiny  as 
rapidly  as  the  laws  of  nature  would  permit.  The  "  Washington  "  was 
not  built  under  French's  patent,  as  was  the  "Enterprise,"  but  was 
built  after  the  plans  of  Captain  Shreve,  in  which  were  embodied 
numerous  inventions  of  his  own ;  the  originality  of  these  was  uni- 
versally conceded.  He  neither  invoked  the  aid  of  the  patent  law  to 
secure  his  rights,  nor  suffered  loss  by  infringing  upon  the  claims  of 
others  under  the  patents  they  had  received.  The  experience  of  four 
years  had  demonstrated  that  neither  Fulton's  patent,  or  that  of 
French,  could  ever  be  made  of  special  benefit  to  Western  commerce. 

Captain  Shreve' s  new  boat,  the  "  Ohio,"  443  tons,  was  built  at  New 
Albany  in  1818;  also  the  "Volcano,"  250  tons,  and  at  Shippingport, 
opposite,  the  "Napoleon,"  332  tons;  while  there  were  built  at  Cin- 
cinnati the  same  season  several  other  boats  for  Captain  Bakewell,  small 
ones,  ranging  from  70  to  120  tons.  The  "Vesta,"  100  tons,  was 
constructed  at  Cincinnati  in  1817. 

Three  of  the  first  boats  started  from  Cincinnati  in  1817-18  had 
been  large  New  Orleans  barges  and  were  altered  into  small  steamers. 
The  first  keel  for  a  steamboat  was  laid  by  Thomas  W.  Bakewell,  early 
in  1817.  In  that  year  he  had  built  for  him  in  Cincinnati  by  Captain 
Zach  Neilson  and  his  partner,  Richardson,  the  "Eagle,"  120  tons, 
and  the  "  Henderson;"  and  the  "Hecla,"  by  Ayres  &  Son,  all  of 
the  same  measurement.  From  that  time  to  1830  Captain  Bakewell 
built  an  average  of  three  boats  each  year,  "  principally  on  contract 
for  the  South."  His  early  boats  had  low-pressure  engines,  because  in 
the  absence  of  experience  he  preferred  following  Watt  and  Boulton. 
This  venerable  gentleman  is  still  (1872)  in  good  health,  and  resides 


78  HENRY    M.     SHREVE. 

with  his  son  in  Pittsburgh.  He  has  recently  interested  himself  in 
scientific  calculations  respecting  the  strength  of  steam  boilers,  and  be- 
lieves that  he  has  demonstrated  that  boilers,  calculated  on  the  basis 
now  usually  adopted,  will  bear  but  sixty-two  and  two-thirds  of  a  pound 
of  pressure  to  the  square  inch,  where  the  prevailing  theory  assumes 
that  the  pressure  may  safely  be  100  pounds.  If  correct  in  his  calcu- 
lations the  great  cause  for  explosions  occurring  so  frequently  may  be 
readily  explained. 

In  building  the  "Ohio"  Captain  Shreve  made  important  changes, 
by  introducing  the  use  of  double  flues  and  "  supplying  the  boilers 
through  the  aft  stands,"  thus  saving  fuel  and  preventing  the 
"  stands  "  from  being  burnt  out  every  few  months.  This  vessel  was 
nmning  for  about  three  years  when  Captain  Shreve  built  the  "  George 
Washington."  The  "  Calhoun,"  eighty  tons,  built  at  Pittsburgh, 
was  sent  off  on  an  exploring  expedition  up  the  Yellowstone  in  1819. 
The  "  Independence  "  was  said  to  have  been  the  first  steamboat  that 
undertook  the  ascent  of  the  Missouri.  She  was  of  fifty  tons  burden, 
and  accompanied  the  "Expedition,"  120  tons,  both  reaching  Boone's 
Lick,  200  miles  up  the  Missouri,  in  June,  1819.  Great  rejoicings 
were  caused  at  that  period  when  it  was  believed  "  beyond  a  doubt 
that  this  important  and  extensive  river,  for  several  hundred  miles  at 
least,  can  be  navigated  by  steamboats  with  the  same  ease  and  facility 
as  the  waters  of  the  Ohio  and  Mississippi." 

The  "  General  Pike  "  was  the  first  boat  built  in  the  West  for  the 
special  accommodation  of  passengers;  she  was  constructed,  in  1818, 
at  Cincinnati  for  a  company  of  her  citizens.  According  to  the  City 
Directory  of  1820,  "she  measures  100  feet  keel,  25  feet  beam,  and 
draws  only  3  feet  and  3  inches  water" — (in  marked  contrast  to  the 
Fulton  boat,  "JEtna.,"  of  three  years  previous,  with  9  feet  hold) — 
"the  length  of  her  cabin  is  40  feet  and  the  breadth  25  feet.  At  one 
end  are  six  and  at  the  other  eight  state-rooms,  divided  in  the  middle 
by  a  passage,  leaving  in  the  center  a  commodious  hall,  40  by  18,  suf- 
ficiently large  for  the  accommodation  of  about  one  hundred  passen- 
gers. Her  accommodations  are  ample,  her  apartments  spacious  and 
superb,  her  machinery  and  apparatus  perfectly  safe  and  in  fine  order, 
and  her  commander,  Captain  Bliss,  always  attentive  and  obliging." 
Such  were  the  views  of  Farnsworth  in  1820.  As  a  matter  of  interest, 
we  furnish  a  cut  of  this  first  Louisville,  Cincinnati,  and  Maysville 
Packet,  from  a  drawing  made  under  the  supervision  of  two  of  the  old 
and  highly  respected  citizens  of  Cincinnati — one  a  steamboat  captain 
of  1821,  a  half  century  and  more  ago.  The  engraving  will  indicate 
the  vessel  to  the  eye  far  better  than  can  be  done  by  words.  One  of 
our  friends  also  kindly  furnished  an  accurate  drawing  of  the  steamer 
"  Paragon,"  376  tons.  She  was  built  at  Cincinnati,  by  Wm.  Parsons, 
and  owned  by  Wm.  Noble  and  Robert  Nelson ;  and  was  launched  on 
the  1 8th  of  January,  1819.  Her  length  on  deck  was  156  feet — 27 
feet  beam  and  9  feet  hold.  She  had  a  low  pressure  engine  and  was 


THE    "CALEDONIA"    AND    CAPTAIN   NOBLE.         79 

spoken  of  as  having  "  spacious  and  convenient  apartments  for  the 
accommodation  of  ladies  and  gentlemen,"  and  as  a  "  first-rate  running 
boat. ' '  We  feel  especial  pleasure  in  being  able  to  present  an  accurate 
picture  of  this  boat  as  well  as  one  of  the  "  General  Pike."  These 
were  not  obtained  without  considerable  effort  in  finding  the  proper 
source  for  information. 

During  1819  there  was  built  in  New  Orleans,  for  the  Louisville 
trade,  a  large  boat,  of  460  tons,  called  the  "  Columbus."  In  the  same 
year  the  "Vulcan,"  300  tons,  was  built  at  Cincinnati  for  Hugh  and 
James  Glenn  and  others;  also,  the  "Tennessee,"  400  tons,  built  for 
Breedlove  and  Bradford,  of  New  Orleans. 

Steamboat  building  seems  to  have  received  a  great  impetus  during 
that  year.  This  was  probably  brought  about  by  the  withdrawal  of 
the  special  claims  of  Livingston  and  Fulton  under  the  statutes  enacted 
in  their  favor.  Congress  likewise  gave  the  Postmaster-General 
authority  to  have  the  mails  conveyed  by  packets  from  Louisville  to 
New  Orleans,  provided  the  expense  should  not  exceed  the  cost  of 
transportation  by  land.  The  "Post  Boy,"  built  at  New  Albany,  for 
Captain  Shreve  and  others,  was  put  into  this  line  the  same  year.  By 
this  time,  Captain  Shreve  had  matured  further  improvements  which 
his  observations  had  suggested. 

When  1820  had  come,  seventy  and  more  steamers  had  been 
launched  on  the  Western  rivers,  which  had  taken  the  place  of  barges 
and  keel-boats.  Wood-yards  were  established  at  many  convenient 
points,  so  that  fuel  could  be  had  for  passing  boats,  and  in  places 
where  had  been  Indian  camps,  thriving  villages  had  sprung  up,  and 
become  the  centers  of  a  growing  trade  with  the  interior  settlements. 

Among  the  illustrations  of  this  volume,  given  to  exhibit  the  pro- 
gressive changes  in  steamboat  architecture  as  well  as  to  preserve  their 
forms  for  future  reference,  we  give  an  authentic  drawing  of  the  "  Cale- 
donia," which  was  launched  at  Cincinnati  on  the  3131  of  December, 
1823.  She  was  150  feet  keel,  27^  feet  beam,  and  9  feet  hold  ;  and 
her  measurement  was  340  tons.  She  was  built  for  Captain  Win.  Noble, 
and  under  his  supervision.  Her  low-pressure  engine  was  taken  out 
four  years  later  and  a  high-pressure  one  substituted.  The  "  Cale- 
donia "  ran  between  Louisville  and  New  Orleans  until  the  summer  of 
1832  ;  she  was  then  altered  into  a  tow-boat  and  used  between  New 
Orleans  and  the  Balize.  Captain  Noble  was  an  esteemed  citizen  of 
Cincinnati,  and  in  the  early  days  of  steam-boating  in  the  Western 
rivers  was  prominent  as  a  steamboat  owner  and  commander,  and  took 
the  lead  in  all  improvements.  Before  the  days  of  steamboats  he  built 
and  owned  the  largest  barge  then  afloat ;  and  was  an  early  and  effective 
advocate  of  a  canal  round  the  falls  of  the  Ohio.  He  was  a  native 
of  Lancaster  County,  Penn.,  and  died  May  23d,  1827,  aged  forty-six 
years.  To  testify  their  high  estimate  of  his  character  and  commemo- 
rate his  virtues  the  citizens  of  Cincinnati  erected  a  monument  over 
his  grave. 


80  HENRY     M.SHREVE. 

Captain  Thomas  W.  Bakewell,  in  a  letter  to  Geo.  T.  Williamson, 
Esq.,  President  of  the  Pioneer  Association  of  Cincinnati,  dated  Feb- 
ruary 2oth,  1857,  furnished  a  complete  list  of  150  steamboats  mainly 
built,  and  all  running  on  the  Western  waters  before  1825.  Of  these 
we  note  that  38  were  built  at  Pittsburgh,  37  at  Cincinnati,  15  at 
Louisville,  5  at  New  Orleans,  and  6  at  New  York ;  several  xwere  built 
at  New  Albany  and  Jeffersonville ;  others  at  Steubenville,  Wheeling, 
Marietta,  Maysville,  Frankfort,  and  points  where  nothing  of  this  kind 
has  been  done  for  many  years. 

In  1824  Captain  Shreve  finished  his  new  steamer  "  George  Wash- 
ington," which  was  constructed  on  the  model  now  in  common  use — 
the  first  built  with  the  cabin  on  the  upper,  or  what  had  been  known 
as  the  hurricane  deck.  The  previous  boat  built  by  him  was  the 
"  United  States,"  which  had  been  a  year  or  two  in  service,  and  like 
the  other  steamers  built  before  the  "George  Washington,"  had  too 
much  the  form  of  a  sea  or  lake  vessel,  making  the  draught  too  great 
for  the  frequent  shallow  water  of  navigation  on  Western  rivers,  and 
was  not  adapted  to  accommodate  the  increasing  crowds  of  passengers. 

Some  of  the  partners  of  Shreve  objected  to  the  plan  of  his  new 
venture,  saying  that  the  boat  would  be  too  "top-heavy,"  and  con- 
sequently they  refused  their  consent  to  the  experiment,  until  he  de- 
monstrated by  mathematical  calculations  that  the  weight  of  the  upper 
deck  and  cabin,  when  filled  with  passengers,  would  be  less  than  that 
of  the  deck-loads  carried  in  the  common  "  two-deckers,"  previously 
in  t»se.  Some  years  before  he  had  introduced  the  double  engine, 
which  was  usually  connected  with  a  stern-wheel,  because  a  boat  could 
more  easily  be  managed  than  when  having  side-wheels  moved  by  a 
single  crank.  The  numerous  sharp  bends  and  dangerous  snags  in  the 
rivers  required  that  boats  should  be  thoroughly  under  the  control  of 
the  pilot,  and  to  secure  this,  more  than  the  rudder  was  necessary.  To 
effect  his  purpose  more  completely,  Captain  Shreve  constructed  the 
"George  Washington"  with  side-wheels,  each  to  be  worked  by  a 
separate  engine.  Thus  the  pilot  and  engineer  could  make  sudden 
turns  and  manage  the  largest  steamers  as  easily  as  a  skiff  with  oars. 
When  this  new  feature  was  suggested  it  met  with  general  ridicule, 
and  his  associates  very  reluctantly  consented  to  its  being  tested.  The 
predictions  of  Captain  Shreve  were  soon  verified,  and  the  "  George 
Washington  "  became  the  model  for  all  Western  steamboats.  His 
daily  experience,  aided  by  his  habits  of  close  practical  observation  in 
all  matters  pertaining  to  steam  navigation,  guided  by  sound  judgment 
and  great  sagacity,  enabled  him,  through  a  long  course  of  years,  to  be 
of  far  more  essential  service  to  his  country  than  Fulton  ever  was.  His 
originality  in  steamboat  improvements  is  far  more  manifest  at  this  late 
day,  and  his  innovations  were  manifestly  the  result  of  his  own  reflec- 
tions, since  we  know  that  he  was  unaided  by  the  counsel  of  scientific 
friends. 

Voyages  on  the  Mississippi  and  its  tributaries  were  greatly  hindered 


AND     JOHN     C.      CALHOUN.  8l 

and  protracted,  and  serious  disasters  were  constantly  occurring 
because  of  the  innumerable  snags,  etc.,  which  filled  the  beds  of  these 
waters,  whose  channels  furnished  the  intercommunication  for  an  area 
not  less  than  15,000  miles  in  extent.  The  removal  of  every  obstruc- 
tion from  these  great  highways  of  commerce,  that  no  hinderances  might 
interrupt  its  movements^  or  endanger  military  operations  when  re- 
quired for  the  safety  of  the  nation,  was  of  the  first  importance. 

For  untold  centuries  the  fierce  current  of  the  Mississippi  had  been 
uprooting  from  its  alluvial  banks  and  bottom  lands  trees  of  giant 
growth,  and  sweeping  them  onward,  until  striking  upon  a  bar,  or 
caught  in  a  bend  of  the  river,  they  were  stayed  in  their  course  and 
formed  a  leafless  forest  for  over  twelve  hundred  miles.  The  strong 
and  pointed  branches  of  these  trees,  peering  above  the  surface  of  the 
water,  often  threatened  sudden  destruction  to  the  vessel  of  the  most 
skillful  navigator  in  the  almost  trackless  windings  of  the  Father  of 
Waters. 

From  the  archives  of  the  War  Department,  it  may  be  seen  that  on 
the  5th  of  July,  1824,  Captain  Shreve  wrote  an  interesting  reply  to  a 
circular,  issued  in  May  preceding,  by  Major-General  Macomb,  in 
which  many  important  suggestions  were  made  to  the  Government. 
In  that  letter  he  affirmed  that  "  the  river  may  be  entirely  freed  from 
such  obstructions,"  naming  several  modes  by  which  it  could  be  done. 
He  offered  to  submit  for  inspection,  if  desired,  the  model  of  a  machine 
invented  by  him  in  1821  for  that  purpose,  but  the  request  was  not 
made.  The  Department  chose  to  offer  a  premium  of  a  thousand 
dollars  for  the  best  plan  for  removing  snags,  sawyers,  etc. ;  for  which 
Captain  Shreve  declined  to  compete.  The  premium  was  awarded  to 
Mr.  Bruce,  of  Kentucky ;  but  before  his  machine  was  completed  it 
was  considered  a  failure,  and  he  abandoned  it,  concluding  that  it 
could  not  be  used  successfully.  He,  however,  began  to  fulfill  his  con- 
tract with  the  Government  for  removing  snags,  .under  the  supervision 
of  Major  Babcock,  of  the  Military  Engineers,  using  ordinary  flat- 
boats,  levers,  chains,  and  saws,  worked  by  manual  labor.  After  nearly 
two  years  had  elapsed,  only  a  portion  of  the  obstructions  in  the 
channel  of  the  Ohio  had  been  removed,  without  mastering  a  single  snag 
in  the  Mississippi.  The  people  began  to  complain  loudly,  for  the 
$65,000  appropriated  was  nearly  exhausted.  A  new  supervisor  died 
shortly  after  his  appointment,  and  there  was  a  hitch  in  regard  to  the 
whole  matter.  Finally,  through  Mr.  Calhoun,  the  former  suggestions 
of  Captain  Shreve  were  again  brought  to  the  notice  of  the  Depart- 
ment, and  it  was  decided  that  he  should  be  appointed  superintendent. 
On  the  loth  of  December,  1826,  his  commission  was  forwarded  to 
him,  and  he  accepted  it  January  2d,  1827. 

Pursuant  to  instructions  he  examined  the  whole  subject  and  reported 

that  it  was   impossible  for  Mr.  Bruce  to  comply  with   his  contract ; 

that  the  apparatus  used  was  unsuitable,  and  that  a  new  plan  must  be 

adopted.     He  received  orders  to  commence  operations  on  the  most 

6 


82  HENRY    M.     SHREVE. 

economical  plan  at  Government  expense,  and  by  the  use  of  such 
means  as  the  small  balance  of  the  appropriation  would  warrant. 
During  that  season  he  "used  a  twin-boat,"  with  wheel  and  windlass, 
worked  by  manual  labor.  The  additional  experience  thus  gained 
convinced  him  more  fully  that  a  mightier  power  than  human  strength 
applied  to  simple  machines  was  requisite.  He  urged  the  building  of 
a  steam-vessel  on  the  model  which  he  had  invented,  but  the  scheme 
was  ridiculed  and  derided  by  Western  boatmen,  and  opposed  by  the 
red-tape  officials  at  Washington.  He  assured  the  authorities  of  the 
entire  feasibility  of  his  project,  and  after  being  met  by  incredulity 
on  all  sides,  determined  to  test  his  invention  on  a  small  scale  at 
his  own  expense,  and  thus  came  to  know  that  he  was  urging  no 
absurd  experiment.  There  were  Western  boatmen,  who,  having 
witnessed  his  success,  and  being  of  General  Jackson's  opinion,  that 
"  he  was  a  man  who  would  do  whatever  he  undertook,"  petitioned 
to  have  his  request  granted.  The  Department  consented  finally, 
June  2yth,  1828,  and  the  first  snag-boat  was  built,  and,  under  the 
name  of  the  "  Heliopolis,"  was  ready  for  operations  July  22d,  1829. 

This  machine-boat  had  twin  hulls  about  eleven  feet  apart,  firmly 
connected  "abaft  midships,"  and  so  constructed  that  a  blow  from 
the  snag-beam  bore  equally  on  every  part  and  timber  of  the  vessel. 
The  snag-beam  connected  the  twin  hulls  at  their  bows,  was  wedge- 
shaped,  and  placed  at  the  water  line,  in  the  exact  center  of  percussion, 
so  that  a  blow  from  it  produced  no  jar  whatever,  and  consequently 
did  not  disturb  in  the  least  any  of  the  machinery  connected  with  the 
boilers  or  engines.  Besides  that  simple  contrivance  there  was  an  in- 
genious combination  of  the  pulley,  windlass,  wheel  and  axle,  lever, 
etc.,  for  lifting  the  numerous  impediments  to  navigation.  The  boat 
when  at  work  in  removing  these  obstacles  moved  under  a  full  head 
of  steam,  and  struck  the  snag  a  sudden  blow  with  the  full  momentum 
of  the  moving  mass,  perhaps  equaling  the  force  of  a  pressure  of  three 
or  four  thousand  tons.  If  firmly  imbedded,  the  snag  was  instantly 
broken  at  the  point  of  leverage,  generally  a  distance  below  the  bed 
of  the  river,  equal  to  the  diameter  of  the  snag.  But  if  too  loose  to 
offer  so  great  a  resistance,  the  boat  in  its  progress  turned  it  over,  and 
at  the  same  time  trimmed  off  all  the  limbs  on  the  under  side.  On 
its  return  passage  the  snag  was  trimmed  on  the  other  side,  and  a 
chain  was  forced  beneath  it.  In  perhaps  five  minutes  it  was  lodged 
upon  the  deck,  and  soon  sawed  into  small  pieces.  All  the  machinery 
as  well  as  the  boat  of  this  admirably  ingenious  and  effective  worker 
was  driven  by  the  same  steam-engines. 

On  the  igth  of  August,  1829,  the  "Heliopolis"  entered  the  Mis- 
sissippi, and  began  its  operations  at  Plum  Point,  where  the  snags 
formed  an  almost  impassable  barrier.  All  were  in  doubt  excepting 
the  inventor,  but  when  she  had  in  a  few  hours  shown  her  capacity 
to  wrestle  with  that  immensely  tangled  thicket  of  river  forest,  and  re- 
move it,  with  the  greatest  facility  and  ease,  all  were  convinced,  and 


AND     HIS     SNAG-BOAT.  83 

the  triumph  was  complete.  So  thoroughly  had  Captain  Shreve's 
genius  met  every  difficulty,  so  entirely  perfect  was  the  machine  in  all 
its  parts,  that  to  this  day  no  improvement  or  alteration  has  been  made 
in  it.'  It  saved  to  the  nation  millions  upon  millions  of  dollars,  and 
preserved  life  to  an  extent  that  can  not  be  estimated.  This  simple 
but  admirably  effective  invention  is  still  constantly  in  use  upon  ob- 
structions which  are  ever  renewing.  The  Government  engineers,  after 
minute  surveys,  reported  the  removal  of  the  great  Red  River  raft 
nearly  or  quite  impracticable,  and  Captain  Shreve  was  consulted. 
His  response  was  satisfactory,  and  he  was  ordered  to  undertake  the 
Herculean  task.  From  the  official  report  to  Congress  the  following 
extract  is  given  : 

"The  great  raft  of  the  Red  River,  consisting  of  trees,  logs,  and 
drift-wood  of  every  description,  firmly  imbedded  in  its  channel  for 
more  than  one  hundred  and  sixty  miles,  was  removed,  and  the  navigation 
of  that  river  opened,  including  the  raft,  a  distance  of  nearly  twelve 
hundred  miles.  This  work  alone,  in  consequence  of  the  immense  quan- 
tity of  public  land  reclaimed  in  that  region  and  rendered  fit  for  cul- 
tivation, the  enhanced  value  of  other  lands  on  the  upper  part  of  the 
river,  and  the  reduced  cost  in  the  transportation  of  supplies  to  Fort 
Towson  and  to  the  Indians  located  in  that  neighborhood  has  been 
worth  millions  to  the  Government.  .  .  .  Eighty-five  thousand 
dollars  was  the  saving  in  one  season  on  freight  alone." 

The  cost  of  removing  those  obstructions  was  but  about  $300,000, 
instead  of  $3,000,000,  as  had  been  prophesied.  Such  snag-boats  have 
to  be  constantly  removing  new  obstacles  in  all  the  Western  rivers. 

Upon  the  advent  of  John  Tyler  to  the  Presidency,  after  the  decease 
of  General  Harrison,  Captain  Shreve  was  officially  informed  of  his  re- 
moval from  office,  by  a  letter  dated  at  Washington,  September  nth, 
1841.  After  thirty-four  years  literally  spent  on  the  waters,  he  re- 
turned to  the  quiet  pursuits  of  an  agricultural  life,  in  which  he  was 
engaged  when  a  youth.  His  farm  was  near  St.  Louis,  and  with  the 
same  zeal  and  liberality  which  he  had  always  manifested,  he  devoted 
himself  energetically  to  improving  his  landed  estate. 

A  list  of  369  steamboats  on  the  waters  of  the  Mississippi  and  Ohio, 
and  their  branches,  was  printed  October  nth,  1841,  in  the  Louisville 
Advertiser,  but  Captain  R.  DeHart,  then  a  veteran  steamboat  officer, 
made  a  corrected  list,  showing  a  largely  increased  number,  and  insisted 
that  there  were  then  between  four  and  five  hundred  steamboats  on 
the  Western  rivers,  measuring  from  75  to  600  tons,  all  carrying,  or- 
dinarily, over  their  tonnage.  They  were  valued  at  from  eight  to 
forty  thousand  dollars  each,  and  made  a  speed  up-stream  of  seven  to 
fifteen  miles  an  hour,  and  descended  at  from  ten  to  eighteen  miles : 
making  trips  from  New  Orleans  to  the  falls  in  five  to  eight  days,  and 
down  in  four  to  five  days.  These  facts  from  so  competent  a  witness 
sufficiently  establish  the  prophesy  of  twenty-five  years  earlier,  made 


84  HENRYM.SHREVE. 

by  Captain  Shreve,  when  he  claimed  that  the  trip  from  New  Orleans 
would  ultimately  be  accomplished  within  ten  days. 

A  British  engineer,  Mr.  David  Stevenson,  who  visited  this  country 
in  1837,  published  a  work  after  his  return,  from  which  we  now  give 
some  pertinent  extracts.  "  The  steam  navigation  of  the  United 
States  is  one  of  the  most  interesting  subjects  connected  with  the 
history  of  North  America,  and  there  is  no  class  of  works  in  that  com- 
paratively new  and  rising  country  which  bear  stronger  marks  of  long- 
continued  exertion,  successfully  directed  to  the  perfection  of  its  object, 
than  are  presented  by  many  of  the  steamboats  which  now  navigate 
its  rivers,  bays,  and  lakes.  In  this  country  (Britain)  most  of  the 
steamboats  go  out  to  sea,  where  they  encounter  as  bad  weather  and 
as  heavy  waves  as  ordinary  sailing  vessels,  but  by  far  the  greater 
number  of  American  steamboats  ply  on  the  smooth  surface  of  rivers, 
sheltered  bays,  or  arms  of  the  sea,  exposed  neither  to  waves,  or  wind. 
The  consequence  is  that  in  America  a  much  more  slender  construc- 
tion and  more  delicate  mold  give  the  requisite  strength,  and  secure 
a  much  greater  speed.  In  America  the  machinery  and  the  cabins  are 
raised  above  the  deck  of  the  vessels,  admitting  of  powerful  engines, 
with  an  enormous  length  of  stroke.  These  arrangements  would  be 
wholly  inapplicable  to  vessels  navigating  our  coasts,  at  least  to  the 
same  extent. 

"  The  early  introduction  of  steam  navigation  and  the  very  rapid  in- 
crease in  the  number  of  steamboats  in  the  United  States  has  opened 
an  extensive  field  for  the  prosecution  of  important  inquiries.  Steam- 
boat builders  have  been  enabled  to  make  constant  accessions  to  their 
practical  knowledge,  which  have  gradually  wrought  great  improve- 
ments in  the  construction  and  action  of  their  vessels — each  builder 
holding  his  own  opinions,  founded  generally  not  on  theoretical  prin- 
ciples, but  on  deductions  drawn  from  a  close  examination  of  practical 
effects.  Twelve  years  ago  (1825)  thirty  hours  were  occupied  in 
making  passages  between  New  York  and  Albany — 150  miles.  Now 
the  voyage  is  made  generally  in  ten  hours,  exclusive  of  time  used  in 
making  stoppages,  being  at  the  astonishing  rate  of  fifteen  miles  an 
hour.  This  great  increase  of  speed  has  been  effected  by  constant  ex- 
periments on  the  form  and  proportions  of  engines  and  vessels — a  per- 
severing system  of  trial  and  error,  which  is  still  going  forward. 

"  These  observations  apply  to  the  Eastern  waters  of  the  United 
States  more  especially,  where  competition  has  led  to  the  construction 
of  a  class  of  vessels  unequaled  in  speed  elsewhere.  The  construction 
of  many  of  these  boats  has  been  changed  materially  from  their  origi- 
nal form.  It  is  no  uncommon  thing  to  alter  steamboats,  by  cutting 
them  through  the  middle,  and  either  increasing  or  diminishing  their 
dimensions  as  the  occasion  may  require.  The  Hudson  River  Steamer 
4  Swallow,'  holds  the  reputation  of  being  one  of  the  swiftest  steamers 
which  have  ever  navigated  American  waters,  and  this  vessel  has 
received  an  addition  of  twenty-four  feet  to  her  original  length,  besides 


VARIETIES     OF     STEAMBOATS.  85 

having  been  otherwise  considerably  changed.  Before  these  alterations 
were  made,  she  was  considered,  as  regards  speed,  an  inferior  vessel. 

"  Local  circumstances  have  given  rise  to  three  distinct  classes  of 
vessels  in  American  steam  navigation.  The  Eastern  boats  are  dis- 
tinguished for  their  long  sharp  build,  great  speed,  and  the  use  of 
condensing  engines  of  large  dimensious  having  a  great  length  of 
stroke.  On  the  Western  waters  the  vessels  have  a  lighter  draught  of 
water,  less  speed,  and  are  propelled  by  high-pressure  engines  of  small 
size,  working  by  steam  of  great  elasticity.  The  steamers  on  the  lakes, 
again,  have  a  very  strong  build  and  a  large  draught  of  water,  and 
possess  in  a  very  great  degree  the  character  of  sea-boats.  They  have 
also  masts  and  sails  which  the  others  do  not  have."  These  are  the 
views  of  an  intelligent  observer,  whose  opinions  are  valuable,  because 
they  were  given  after  careful  inspection,  and  at  the  period  just  prior 
to  the  great  railroad  movement  which  has  since  more  especially  at- 
tracted the  attention  of  both  foreign  and  native  travelers. 

The  contentions  of  rival  interests  in  steamboat  lines  on  the  Hudson 
and  on  Long  Island  Sound  for  years  before  and  after  Mr.  Stevenson's 
visit,  had  much  to  do  with  quickening  the  speed  of  boats,  then 
making  such  rapid  strides  towards  the  twenty  miles  an  hour,  which 
was  about  the  utmost  limit,  we  think,  reached  and  maintained  with 
approaches  to  regularity,  on  the  waters  of  which  New  York  was  the 
focal  attraction. 

John  Stevens,  of  Hoboken,  N.  J.,  was  one  of  the  early  experi- 
menters in  steamboat  machinery  of  the  period  when  Livingston  was 
following  up  the  endeavors  of  Fitch.  Stevens  was  a  man  of  large 
wealth,  with  a  fondness  for  scientific  experiments,  but  without  practi- 
cal skill  in  mechanics.  He  employed  practical  machinists  in  further- 
ance of  his  projects,  and  so  soon  as  1791  began  experiments,  which 
resulted  in  his  obtaining  patents  from  the  Government  soon  after 
the  patent  law  was  enacted.  He  built  a  workshop  on  his  own  estate 
that  he  might  have  his  workmen  constantly  under  his  supervision.  In 
this  way  his  son,  Robert  L.  Stevens,  became  a  practical  engineer  and 
steamboat  builder.  When  the  privilege  of  navigating  the  waters  of 
New  York  by  steam  in  which  the  elder  Stevens  was  finally  interested 
with  Livingston  and  Fulton,  was  rendered  valueless,  by  the  decision 
of  the  United  States  Supreme  Court,  holding  the  New  York  law  to 
be  unconstitutional,  the  younger  Stevens  was  ready  to  bend  all  his 
energies  to  a  competition  with  Vanderbilt  as  a  manipulator  of  Gibbons' 
wealth  (quite  a  portion  of  which  had  been  left  with  special  reference 
to  being  used  to  break  down  monopolies),  or  with  any  other  man  or 
company  of  men  who  were  fond  of  excitement  and  at  the  same  time 
had  an  eye  to  business  and  favor  with  the  public,  in  furnishing  fine 
steamboat  accommodations  for  those  traveling  on  business,  or  for 
pleasure.  As  may  readily  be  seen  the  incentives  to  a  vigorous  strife 
lor  fine  appointments  to  secure  high  speed,  attract  passengers,  and 
enable  them  to  enjoy  a  high  degree  of  comfort,  were  not  wanting. 


86  HENRY    M.     SHREVE. 

Robert  Buchanan,  Esq.,  now  (1872),  at  the  age  of  seventy-six,  an 
active  citizen  of  Cincinnati,  in  which  city  he  has  resided  for  half  a 
century,  and  during  the  entire  period  has  been  one  of  her  eminent 
merchants,  in  a  communication  to  the  Pioneer  Association  of  that 
city,  under  date  of  January  29th,  1857,  remarks: 

"  In  1821  I  took  command  of  the  steamboat  '  Maysville,'  309  tons, 
and  remained  on  her  for  two  years.  In  the  spring  of  1822  I  took  her 
up  to  Pittsburgh,  and  was  saluted  by  the  firing  of  cannon  from  the 
shore.  Upon  inquiring  the  cause  I  was  informed  that  it  was  in  honor 
of  the  largest  steamboat,  in  the  New  Orleans  trade,  that  had  ever 
come  up  the  river  to  that  city. 

"Early  in  the  spring  of  1811  I  left  my  native  home,  on  the  banks 
of  French  Creek,  in  a  small  canoe.  On  reaching  the  Alleghany 
River  I  went  on  board  of  an  open  keel-boat,  and  was  taken  to  Pitts- 
burgh. This  was  my  first  experience  in  navigation.  When  traveling 
now  on  the  splendid  floating  palaces  that  adorn  our  rivers,  and  look- 
ing back  to  my  first  voyage  on  the  Western  waters,  the  change  seems 
like  magic — almost  realizing  some  of  the  stories  of  Eastern  fable. 
But  in  this  Western  world  our  '  Aladdin's  lamp  '  is  the  midnight  lamp 
of  the  student,  and  Qur  '  Genii '  the  Inventor. 

11  Let  me  call  your  attention  for  a  moment  to  the  present  state  of 
steam  navigation  in  the  West.  On  our  large  rivers  and  tributaries 
about  nine  thousand  miles  can  be  navigated  by  steamboats. 

"The  number  of  boats  engaged  in  this  trade  is  near  800,  with  a 
capacity  of  perhaps  200,000  tons,  and  employing  some  20,000  men. 

"To  transport  the  up  freight  alone  carried  by  these  boats,  it  is  es- 
timated that  it  would  require  8,000  keel-boats  and  barges,  and  200,000 
men,  averaging  the  steamboats  at  six  trips,  and  the  others  at  three 
trips  annually.  This  is  for  the  up  cargo  only,  saying  nothing  about 
the  down  cargo  or  passengers.  Thus  may  be  seen  at  a  glance  the 
immense  benefits  of  steam  navigation  to  the  vast  country  lying  between 
the  range  of  the  Alleghany  and  the  Rocky  Mountains,  once  denomi- 
nated the  West,  but  now,  since  the  acquisition  of  California,  the  West 
no  longer,  but  the  great  central  portion  of  our  Union." 

As  before  stated,  Captain  Shreve,  on  leaving  the  river,  retired  to 
his  estate  near  St.  Louis  and  interested  himself  in  agricultural  pursuits. 
There,  as  elsewhere,  he  was  thoroughly  practical,  but  he  found  pleas- 
ant recreation  and  profitable  amusement  in  "experimental  farming." 

His  first  wife  having  deceased,  he  married  a  second  time,  in  1846, 
a  daughter  of  John  W.  Rogers,  of  Boston,  Massachusetts.  By  this 
marriage  he  had  two  daughters — one  of  them  died,  and  the  other  is 
Mrs.  Emlen  Hutchinson,  of  Philadelphia.  The  first  Mrs.  Shreve 
was  the  daughter  of  Adam  Blair,  of  Brownsville,  Penn.  Captain 
Shreve  married  Miss  Blair  in  1811 ;  she  bore  him  two  daughters  and 
one  son  :  the  latter  died  in  infancy.  The  eldest  daughter  married 
John  W.  Reel,  of  St.  Louis,  but  is  not  now  living.  The  surviving 


PERSONAL  APPEARANCE — DECEASE.         87 

daughter  of  his  first  wife  married  Captain  Walker  R.  Carter,  long  a 
well-known  resident  of  St.  Louis. 

In  mature  life  Captain  Shreve  was  a  man  of  fine  personal  appear- 
ance. Standing  five  feet  eleven  inches  in  height,  and  weighing  over 
two  hundred  pounds,  his  presence  was  commanding.  Although  so 
large  when  he  had  arrived  at  middle  life,  he  was  at  the  age  of 
twenty-five  years  so  slight  in  form  as  to  be  taken  for  a  lad  of 
seventeen.  Slight  in  frame,  he  was  as  a  youth  very  muscular,  re- 
markably spry,  and  possessed  of  immense  strength.  He  took  great 
pleasure  in  athletic  sports,  and  excelled  in  all  of  them.  When  on 
his  trading  expeditions  he  had  frequent  races  with  the  Indians, 
whom  he  always  distanced,  and  consequently  astonished.  His 
courage  was  no  less  remarkable ;  he  seemed  never  to  know  what 
fear  was,  either  in  the  presence  of  a  savage,  or,  if  occasion  required, 
in  an  encounter  with  wild  beasts. 

At  the  opening  of  the  Telegraph  at  St.  Louis,  Captain  Shreve 
sent  the  first  message  borne  by  electricity,  from  the  banks  of  the 
Mississippi  to  the  tide  waters  of  the  Atlantic.  It  was  to  the  President 
of  the  United  States,  at  Washington.  Thus  did  he  fill  out  the  measure 
of  a  career  of  great  usefulness  and  brilliant  endeavor.  Quietly  at  his 
home,  for  the  last  ten  years  of  his  life,  he  enjoyed  the  pleasures  of  a 
serene  old  age,  and  died  after  a  protracted  illness  in  his  66th  year, 
March  6th,  1851.  His  widow  is  still  living. 


SUPPLEMENTARY. 

FOR  the  information  of  our  readers,  we  here  propose  to  give  a  few 
facts  which  may  prove  interesting.  It  is  well  known  that  a  very 
large  portion  of  American  commerce  with  foreign  countries  has  been 
carried  on  since  the  war  of  1861-5  in  foreign  vessels.  Previous  to 
the  advent  of  the  Alabama  and  other  Confederate  cruisers,  American 
vessels  were  to  be  found  in  every  sea.  Great  Britain  profited  enor- 
mously by  the  events  which  gave  her  shippers  a  practical  monopoly 
of  the  carrying  trade  on  the  Atlantic.  When  the  war  broke  out  in 
1861  the  tonnage  of  British  vessels  was  5,895,369  tons,  and  of  Ameri- 
can vessels,  5,539,813  tons.  In  1821  American  tonnage  was  but  half 
that  of  Great  Britain ;  during  the  intervening  forty  years  we  almost 
got  upon  a  par  with  her  in  the  carrying  trade  of  the  world  ;  but  by 
1871  the  tonnage  of  American  vessels  had  fallen  to  3,946,150  tons, 
while  Great  Britain  had  increased  her  tonnage  to  7,142,891  tons, 
showing  that  relatively  the  United  States  had  fallen  back  to  where  she 
was  a  half  century  previous. 


88  SUPPLEMENTARY. 

This  seems  decidedly  bard,  but  these  figures  do  not  tell  all  the 
truth,  for  a  large  amount  of  the  tonnage  deducted  from  the  American 
total  of  1 86 1  was  transferred  to  foreign  registers,  but  nominally  only 
to  foreign  ownership.  The  old  emigrant  packets  were  displaced  by 
iron  steamers,  and  the  tonnage  formerly  in  the  coasting  trade  has  not 
been  needed  again,  because  of  the  increased  railroad  facilities  by  which 
freights  now  pass  overland.  During  the  years  when  our  ships  were 
forced  into  the  hands  of  foreign  owners,  and  Americans  ceased  to 
build  the  clipper  ships,  which  for  two  or  three  decades  had  been  so 
famous,  a  marked  revolution  was  going  forward  in  marine  architect- 
ure. Wood  gave  place  to  iron,  and  for  the  construction  of  iron 
ships  Britain  possessed  for  the  time  superior  advantages. 

There  are,  however,  many  indications  going  to  show  that  the  recent 
rapid  development  of  our  iron  industries,  coupled  with  influences  now 
at  work  in  Britain,  especially  in  the  increased  prices  of  coal  and  of 
wages,  will  bring  about  such  changes  as  will  tend  to  establish  on  our 
own  shores  the  business  of  iron  ship-building.  We  have  the  coal  and 
the  ore  with  which  to  increase  to  an  indefinite  extent  our  production 
of  iron,  while  Britain  must  import  her  ores,  and  now  can  not  mine 
coal  enough  to  supply  her  consumptive  demand.  Another  year  will 
see  an  enormous  increase  in  the  production  of  American  iron-,  and 
with  a  more  abundant  supply  prices  must  decline.  It  would  seem 
that  we  have  been  and  are  building  iron  steamships  better  and  cheaper 
for  Americans,  all  things  considered,  than  those  built  in  Great  Britain. 
"  Among  the  vessels  already  built,  and  now  building  in  American 
waters,  are  many  which  are  better  than  the  best  ever  constructed  in 
British  ship- yards,  and  none  have  been  launched  in  this  country  which 
are  not  better  in  material  and  construction  than  the  average  of  Clyde- 
built  bottoms."  "These  are  facts,"  says  the  Iron  Age,  "and  in 
them  we  see  the  promise  of  a  future  for  iron  ship-building  in  the 
United  States,  and  for  our  maritime  interests,  which  shall  leave  us  no 
reason  to  envy  the  achievements  of  Great  Britain." 

The  American  Steamship  Company  of  Philadelphia — an  offshoot  of  the 
Pennsylvania  Central  Railroad  Company — are  now  (1872)  having  built 
for  them  at  the  extensive  ship  yards  of  Messrs.  Cramp  &  Sons,  Phila- 
delphia, four  large  iron  steamers.  During  the  war  that  firm  finished 
several  monitors  and  gun-boats  for  the  United  States  navy,  among 
which  was  the  New  Ironsides,  which  did  good  service  at  Charleston. 
After  proving  itself  one  of  the  most  successful  of  the  ironclads,  she  was 
unfortunately  lost  by  fire.  This  firm  turned  out  a  few  months  since 
the  iron  screw  steamship  George  W.  Clyde.  She  was  built  for  the 
coasting  trade,  and  on  her  trial  trip  made  ten  knots  an  hour,  and  is 
said  to  be  of  very  symmetrical  and  graceful  form.  She  is  220  feet 
long,  of  1,200  tons  burden,  and  can  carry  2,200  bales  of  cotton. 

Each  of  the  four  vessels  building  for  the  Pennsylvania  road,  is  to 
be  355  feet  long,  43  feet  beam,  and  57  feet  deep,  and  of  3,016  tons 
burden.  They  are  to  be  equipped  with  compound  engines  made  in 


FOREIGN     STEAMERS.  89 

this  country,  but  modeled  after  the  English.  They  will  thus  rank  in 
size  and  power  along  with  the  largest  of  the  many  foreign  steamships 
plying  between  Europe  and  the  United  States,  and  as  they  will  traverse 
the  same  route,  there  will  be  opportunities  for  accurate  comparison 
of  speed,  economy,  and  efficiency. 

It  is  interesting  to  examine  the  reports  of  steamship  traffic  between 
New  York  and  European  ports.  There  are  now  considerably  over  a 
hundred  vessels,  belonging  to  different  lines,  plowing  the  waters  of  the 
Atlantic.  Last  year  the  exact  number  of  steamers  was  one  hundred 
and  five.  The  distribution  was  as  follows :  Cunard  line,  20  steamers, 
with  an  aggregate  measurement  of  53,412  tons;  Anchor  line,  18 
steamers,  of  30,679  tons;  Inman  line,  1 6  steamers,  of  36,643  tons; 
Bremen  line,  13  steamers,  of  35,999  tons;  National  line,  12  steamers, 
of  45, 982  tons;  Hamburg  line,  9  steamers,  of  27,187  tons;  Williams 
&  Guion  line,  8  steamers,  of  12,192  tons ;  French  line,  4  steamers,  of 
12,192  tons;  White  Star  line,  3  steamers,  of  11,211  tons;  and  the 
Baltic  Lloyd's,  2  steamers,  of  3,600  tons.  Of  these  ten  lines  of  steam- 
ers, seven  during  1871  transported  311,176  passengers.  In  addition  to 
the  above  lines  running  from  New  York,  there  are  now  three  lines  of 
steamers  between  Montreal  and  Great  Britain.  The  Allan  line  dis- 
patches a  steamer  every  week,  and  an  extra  steamer  once  every  two 
weeks ;  the  Beaver  line,  owning  five  ships,  dispatches  a  steamer 
once  every  week ;  and  the  Dominion  line,  owning  three  ships,  dispatches 
a  steamer  every  fortnight.  There  are  weekly  lines  of  Atlantic  steamers 
running  from  Boston  and  from  Baltimore. 


RICHARD   TREVITHIOK. 


BEFORE  giving  a  brief  sketch  of  this  talented  Englishman,  and 
his  connection  with  the  locomotive  engine,  we  present  a  few 
facts  respecting  the  steam  carriage  of  Oliver  Evans,  who  was  an  ac- 
quaintance of  John  Fitch,  and  resided  in  Philadelphia  when  Fitch 
visited  there  on  his  last  trip  to  Kentucky.  As  we  have  already  seen, 
the  application  of  steam-power  to  carriages  on  common  roads  was 
entertained  by  Fitch,  for  a  short  time,  in  his  earlier  experiments. 

Oliver  Evans  was  a  native  of  Newport,  Delaware,  and  was  engaged 
with  his  project  for  driving  steam  carriages  on  common  roads  not  long 
after  John  Fitch  was  working  on  his  steam-boat  projects;  but  he  was 
poor,  and,  like  Fitch,  was  unable  to  command  the  means  requisite  for 
an  undertaking  which  his  friends  thought  impracticable. 

In  1800  or  1801,  Evans  began  a  steam  carriage  at  his  own  expense; 
but  he  had  not  proceeded  far  with  it  when  he  altered  his  intention, 
and  applied  the  engine  intended  for  the  driving  of  a  carriage  to  the 
driving  of  a  small  grinding-mill,  in  which  it  was  found  efficient.  In 
1804  he  constructed,  at  Philadelphia,  a  second  engine,  of  five-horse 
power,  working  on  the  high-pressure  principle,  which  was  placed  on 
a  large  flat,  or  scow,  mounted  upon  wheels.  "This,"  says  his  biog- 
rapher, "was  considered  a  fine  opportunity  to  show  the  public  that 
his  engine  could  propel  both  land  and  water  conveyances.  When 
the  machine  was  finished,  Evans  fixed  under  it,  in  a  rough  and  tem- 
porary manner,  wheels  with  wooden  axle-trees.  Although  the  whole 
weight  was  equal  to  two  hundred  barrels  of  flour,  yet  his  small  engine 
propelled  it  up  Market  Street,  and  round  the  circle  to  the  water-works, 
where  it  was  launched  into  the  Schuylkill.  A  paddle-wheel  was  then 
applied  to  its  stern,  and  it  thus  was  propelled  down  that  river  to  the 
Delaware,  and  up  the  Delaware  to  the  city,  a  distance  of  sixteen 
miles,  in  the  presence  of  thousands  of  spectators."  It  does  not 
appear  that  any  farther  trial  was  made  of  this  road  engine. 

While  the  discussion  of  steam-power  for  road  locomotion  was  pro- 
(9°) 


INVENTOR     OF    THE    LOCOMOTIVE.  91 

ceeding  in  England,  other  projectors  were  advocating  the  extension  of 
wagon-ways  and  railroads.  Mr.  Thomas,  of  Denton,  near  Newcastle- 
on-Tyne,  read  a  paper  before  the  Philosophical  Society  of  that  town 
in  1800,  in  which  he  urged  the  laying  down  of  railways  throughout 
the  country,  on  the  principle  of  the  coal-wagon  ways,  for  the  general 
carriage  of  goods  and  merchandise ;  and  Dr.  James  Anderson,  of 
Edinburgh,  about  the  same  time,  published  his  "Recreations  of  Ag- 
riculture," wherein  he  recommended  that  railways  should  be  laid 
along  the  principal  turnpike-roads,  and  worked  by  horse-power,  which, 
he  alleged,  would  have  the  effect  of  greatly  reducing  the  cost  of 
transport,  and  thereby  stimulating  all  branches  of  industry. 

Railways  were  adopted  in  places,  for  short  distances,  and  in  some 
cases  lines  were  laid  down  of  considerable  length.  One  of  the  first 
constructed  under  the  powers  of  an  Act  of  Parliament  was  the  Car- 
diff and  Merthyr  tram-road,  about  twenty-seven  miles  in  length,  for 
the  accommodation  of  the  iron-works  of  Plymouth,  Wales,  the  Act 
for  which  was  obtained  in  1794.  Another  railroad,  about  twenty- 
eight  miles  in  length,  was  constructed  under  the  powers  of  an  Act 
obtained  in  1801,  and  accommodated  the  Tredegar  and  Sirhoway 
Iron-works  and  the  Trevill  Lime-works. 

,In  the  immediate  neighborhood  of  London,  another,  the  Wandsworth 
and  Croydon  tram- way,  was  made  after  1800,  extending  southward  to 
Merstham,  in  Surrey.  All  these  were  worked  by  horses,  and  in  the 
case  of  the  Merstham  line,  donkeys  shared  in  the  work.  No  pro- 
posal had  yet  been  made  to  apply  the  power  of  steam. 

On  the  day  of  opening  the  southern  portion  of  the  Merstham  Rail- 
road in  1805,  a  train  of  twelve  wagons  laden  with  stone,  weighing  in 
all  thirty-eight  tons,  was  drawn  six  miles  in  an  hour  by  one  horse, 
with  apparent  ease,  down  an  incline  of  i  in  120. 

About  the  same  time,  the  subject  of  road  locomotion  was 
brought  into  prominent  notice  by  an  important  practical  experiment 
conducted  in  a  remote  corner  of  the  kingdom.  The  experimenter 
was  a  young  man,  then  obscure,  but  afterward  famous,  who  may  be 
fairly  regarded  as  THE  INVENTOR  OF  THE  RAILWAY  LOCOMOTIVE,  if  any 
single  individual  be  entitled  to  that  appellation.  This  was  Richard  Trev- 
ithick,  a  person  of  extraordinary  mechanical  skill,  but  of  marvelous  ill 
fortune,  who,  though  the  inventor  of  many  ingenious  contrivances,  and 
the  founder  of  fortunes  of  many,  himself  died  in  extreme  poverty, 
leaving  behind  him  nothing  but  his  great  inventions  and  the  recollec- 
tion of  his  genius. 

Richard  Trevithick  was  born  on  the  i3th  of  April,  1771,  in  the 
parish  of  Illogan,  a  few  miles  west  of  Redruth,  in  Cornwall.  In  the 
immediate  neighborhood  rises  Castle-Carn-brea,  a  rocky  eminence, 
supposed  by  Borlase  to  have  been  the  principal  seat  of  Druid ic  wor- 
ship in  the  West  of  England.  The  hill  commands  an  extraordinary 
view  over  one  of  the  richest  mining  fields  of  Cornwall,  from  Chace- 
water  and  Redruth  to  Camborne. 


92  RICHARD     TREVITHICK. 

Trevithick's  father  acted  as  purser  at  several  of  the  mines. 
Though  a  man  in  good  position  and  circumstances,  he  does  not 
seem  to  have  taken  much  pains  with  his  son's  education.  Being  an 
only  child,  he  was  very  much  indulged — among  other  things,  in  his 
dislike  for  the  restraints  and  discipline  of  school;  and  he  was  left  to 
wander  about  among  the  mines,  spending  his  time  in  the  engine- 
rooms,  picking  up  information  about  pumping-engines  and  mining 
machinery. 

His  father,  observing  the  boy's  strong  bent  toward  mechanics, 
placed  him  for  a  time  as  pupil  with  William  Murdock,  while  the 
latter  lived  at  Redruth,  superintending  Boulton  &  Watt's  pumping- 
engines  in  the  neighborhood.  Trevithick  doubtless  learned  much 
from  that  able  mechanic.  It  is  probable  that  he  got  his  first  idea 
of  the  road  locomotive  which  he  constructed  from  Murdock' s  ingeni- 
ous little  model,  described  in  the  life  of  Watt,  the  construction  and 
action  of  which  must  have  been  quite  familiar  to  him. 

About  that  time  there  was  an  unusual  demand  for  engineers,  which 
it  was  found  difficult  to  supply  ;  and  young  Trevithick  had  no  difficulty 
in  getting  an  appointment.  The  father  was  astonished  at  his  boy's 
presumption  (as  he  supposed  it  to  be)  in  undertaking  such  a  respon- 
sibility, and  begged  the  mine  agents  to  reconsider  their  decision.  But 
the  result  showed  that  they  were  justified  in  appointing  young  Trev- 
ithick, though  he  had  not  yet  attained  his  majority. 

Like  the  other  Cornish  engineers,  young  Trevithick  took  an  active 
part  in  opposing  the  Birmingham  patent,  and  is  said  to  have  con- 
structed several  engines,  with  the  assistance  of  William  Bull  (formerly 
an  erector  of  Watt's  machines),  with  the  object  of  evading  it.  These 
engines  are  said  to  have  been  highly  creditable  to  their  makers,  work- 
ing to  the  entire  satisfaction  of  the  mine-owners.  The  issue  of  the 
Watt  trial,  however,  which  declared  all  such  engines  to  be  piracies, 
brought  to  an  end  for  a  time  a  business  which  would  otherwise  have 
proved  a  very  profitable  one,  and  Trevithick's  partnership  with  Bull 
then  came  to  an  end. 

While  carrying  on  his  business,  Trevithick  had  frequent  occasion  to 
visit  Mr.  Harvey's  iron  foundery  at  Hayle,  then  a  small  one,  but  now 
one  of  the  largest  in  the  West  of  England.  During  these  visits 
Trevithick  became  acquainted  with  the  various  members  of  Mr. 
Harvey's  family,  and  married  Miss  Jane  Harvey,  in  November,  1797. 
A  few  years  later  Trevithick  engaged  in  partnership  with  his  cousin, 
Andrew  Vivian,  also  an  engineer.  They  carried  on  engine-making  at 
Camborne,  a  mining  town  a  few  miles  south  of  Redruth.  Watt's 
patent-right  expired  in  1800,  and  from  that  time  engineers  were 
free  to  make  engines  after  their  own  methods.  Trevithick  was  not 
content  to  follow  beaten  paths,  but  occupied  himself  in  contriving 
various  new  methods  of  employing  steam,  economizing  fuel,  and  in- 
creasing the  effective  power  of  the  engine. 


Oliver  Evans'  Road  Engine,  1801. 
See  page    90. 


Trevithick's  Tram-Road  Locomotive,  1804. 


AMERICAN     HIGH-PRESSURE     BOILER.  95 

He  early  entertained  the  idea  of  making  the  expansive  force  of 
steam  act  directly  on  both  sides  of  the  piston,  on  the  high-pressure 
principle,  and  thus  getting  rid  of  Watt's  process  of  condensation. 
Although  Cugnot  had  employed  high-pressure  steam  in  his  road  loco- 
motive, and  Murdock  in  his  model,  and  although  Watt  had  distinctly 
specified  the  action  of  steam  at  high-pressure  as  well  as  low,  in  his 
patents,  the  idea  was  not  embodied  in  any  practical  working  engine 
until  taken  in  hand  by  Trevithick.  The  results  of  his  long  study 
were  embodied  in  the  patent  which  he  took  out  in  1802,  in  his  own 
and  Vivian's  name,  for  an  improved  steam-engine,  and  "  the  applica- 
tion thereof  for  driving  carriages  and  other  purposes." 

The  arrangement  of  Trevithick' s  engine  was  ingenious.  It  exhibited 
a  beautiful  simplicity  of  parts ;  the  machinery  was  arranged  effectively, 
uniting  strength  with  solidity  and  portability,  and  enabling  steam  to 
be  employed  with  very  great  rapidity,  economy,  and  force.  Watt's 
principal  objection  to  using  high-pressure  steam  consisted  in  the  danger 
to  which  the  boiler  was  exposed  by  internal  pressure.  Trevithick 
avoided  this  by  using  a  cylindrical  wrought-iron  boiler,  the  form  cap- 
able of  presenting  the  greatest  resistance  to  the  expansive  force  of 
steam.  Boilers  of  this  kind  were  not,  however,  new.  Oliver  Evans, 
of  Delaware,  had  made  use  of  them  in  his  high-pressure  engines  prior 
to  the  date  of  Trevithick's  patent ;  and,  as  Evans  did  not  claim  the 
cylindrical  boiler,  it  is  probable  that  the  invention  was  in  use  before 
his  time.  Nevertheless,  Trevithick  had  the  merit  of  introducing  the 
round  boilers  into  Cornwall,  where  they  are  still  known  as  "  Trev- 
ithick boilers."  The  saving  in  fuel  effected  by  their  use  was  such  that 
in  1812  the  Messrs.  Williams,  of  Scorrier,  made  Trevithick  a  present 
of  3Oo/.,  in  acknowledgment  of  the  benefits  arising  from  that  source 
alone. 

Trevithick's  steam  carriage  was  the  most  compact  and  handsome 
yet  invented,  and,  as  regards  arrangement,  has  scarcely  to  this  day 
been  surpassed.  It  consisted  of  a  carriage  capable  of  accommodating 
some  half  dozen  passengers.  Underneath  the  engine  and  machinery 
was  inclosed,  in  about  the  size  of  an  orchestra  drum,  the  whole  being 
supported  on  four  wheels — two  in  front,  by  which  it  was  guided,  and 
two  behind,  by  which  it  was  driven.  The  engine  had  but  one  cyl- 
inder. The  piston-rod  outside  the  cylinder  was  double,  and  drove 
a  cross-piece,  working  in  guides,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  cranked 
axle  to  the  cylinder,  the  crank  of  the  axle  revolving  between  the 
double  parts  of  the  piston-rod.  Toothed  wheels  were  attached  to 
this  axle,  which  worked  into  other  toothed  wheels  fixed  on  the  axle 
of  the  driving-wheels.  The  steam-cocks  were  opened  and  shut  by 
a  connection  with  the  crank-axle ;  and  the  force-pump,  with  which 
the  boiler  was  supplied  with  water,  was  also  worked  from  it,  as  were 
the  bellows  to  blow  the  fire  and  thereby  keep  up  the  combustion  in  the 
furnace. 

The  specification  clearly  alludes  to  the  use  of  the  engine  on  rail- 


96  RICHARD     TREVITHICK. 

roads  as  follows:  "It  is  also  to  be  noticed  that  we  do  occasionally, 
or  in  certain  cases,  make  the  external  periphery  of  the  wheels  uneven 
by  projecting  heads  of  nails  or  bolts,  or  cross  grooves  or  fittings  to 
railroads  where  required,  and  that  in  cases  of  hard  pull  we  cause  a 
lever,  belt,  or  claw  to  project  through  the  rim  of  one  or  both  of  the 
said  wheels,  so  as  to  take  hold  of  the  ground,  but  that,  in  general, 
the  ordinary  structure  or  figure  of  the  external  surface  of  those  wheels 
will  be  found  to  answer  the  intended  purpose."  The  specification 
also  shows  the  application  of  the  high-pressure  engine  on  the  same 
principle  to  the  driving  of  a  sugar-mill,  or  for  other  purposes  where 
a  fixed  power  is  required,  dispensing  with  condenser,  cistern,  air-pump, 
and  cold-water  pump.  In  the  year  1803,  a  small  engine  of  this  kind 
was  erected  after  Trevithick's  plan,  which  worked  by  steam  of  at 
least  3olbs.  on  the  inch  above  atmospheric  pressure,  and  gave  much 
satisfaction. 

The  first  experimental  steam  carriage  was  constructed  by  Trevithick 
&  Vivian  in  their  workshops  at  Camborne,  in  1803,  and  was  tried  on 
the  public  road  adjoining  the  town,  and  in  the  town  itself.  John 
Petherick,  a  native  of  Camborne,  who  was  alive  in  1858,  stated  in  a 
letter  that  he  well  remembered  seeing. the  engine,  worked  by  Mr. 
Trevithick  himself,  come  through  the  place,  to  the  great  wonder  of 
the  inhabitants.  He  says,  "  The  experiment  was  satisfactory  only  as 
long  as  the  steam  pressure  could  be  kept  up.  During  that  continu- 
ance, Trevithick  called  upon  the  people  to  'jump  up,'  so  as  to  create 
a  load  on  the  engine;  and  it  soon  became  covered  with  men,  which 
did  not  seem  to  make  any  difference  to  the  power  or  speed  so  long 
as  the  steam  was  kept  up.  This  was  sought  to  be  done  by  the  appli- 
cation of  a  cylindrical  horizontal  bellows  worked  by  the  engine  itself; 
but  the  attempt  to  keep  up  the  power  of  the  steam  for  any  consider- 
able time  proved  a  failure." 

Trevithick  made  several  alterations  in  the  engine,  improving  it, 
and  its  success  determined  him  to  take  it  to  London,  and  exhibit  it 
as  a  novelty  in  steam  mechanism.  It  was  run  by  road  from  Cam- 
borne  to  Plymouth,  a  distance  of  ninety  miles.  At  Plymouth,  it  was 
shipped  for  London,  where  it  arrived  in  safety,  and  excited  much 
curiosity.  Sir  Humphry  Davy,  Mr.  Davies  Gilbert,  and  other  scien- 
tific gentlemen,  inspected  the  machine,  and  rode  upon  it.  Several 
of  them  took  the  steering  of  it  by  turns,  and  they  expressed  their 
satisfaction  with  the  mechanism  by  which  it  was  directed.  Sir 
Humphry,  writing  to  a  friend  in  Cornwall,  said,  "I  shall  soon  hope 
to  hear  that  the  roads  of  England  are  the  haunts  of  Captain  Trev- 
ithick's dragons — a  characteristic  name."  After  the  experiment  at 
Lord's,  the  carriage  was  run  along  the  New-road,  and  down  Gray's- 
Inn  Lane,  to  the  premises  of  a  carriage-builder  in  Long  Aere.  To 
show  the  adaptability  of  the  engine  for  fixed  uses,  Trevithick  had  it 
taken  from  the  carriage  on  the  day  after  this  trial,  and  removed  to 


\ 
FIRST    RAILWAY    LOCOMOTIVE.  97 

the  shop  of  a  cutler,  where  he  applied  it  with  success  to  the  driving 
of  the  machinery. 

The  steam  carriage  became  the  talk  of  the  town,  and  public  curi- 
osity increasing,  Trevithick  resolved  to  inclose  a  piece  of  ground, 
and  admit  persons  to  see  the  engine  at  so  much  a  head.  He  had  a 
tram-road  laid  down  in  an  elliptical  form,  and  the  carriage  was  run 
round  it  on  the  rails  in  the  sight  of  great  numbers.  On  the  second 
day,  another  crowd  collected,  but,  for  some  unknown  reason,  the  place 
was  closed  and  the  engine  removed. 

While  the  steam  carriage  was  being  exhibited,  a  gentleman  was 
laying  heavy  wagers  as  to  the  weight  which  could  be  hauled  by  a 
single  horse  on  the  Wandsworth  and  Croydon  iron  tram-way;  and 
the  number  and  weight  of  wagons  drawn  by  the  horse  were  something 
surprising.  Trevithick  very  probably  put  the  two  things  together — 
the  steam  horse  and  the  iron-way — and  kept  the  performance  in  mind 
when  he  proceeded  to  construct  his  second  or  railway  locomotive. 
In  the  mean  time,  having  dismantled  his  steam  carriage,  sent  back  the 
phaeton  to  the  coach-builder  to  whom  it  belonged,  and  sold  the  little 
engine  which  had  worked  the  machine,  he  returned  to  Camborne  to 
carry  on  his  business.  In  the  course  of  the  year  1803,  he  went  to 
Pen-y-darran,  in  South  Wales,  to  erect  a  forge  engine,  and,  when  it 
was  -finished,  he  began  the  erection  of  a  railway  locomotive — the  first 
ever  constructed.  There  were  already,  several  lines  of  rail  laid  down 
in  the  district,  for  the  accommodation  of  the  coal  and  iron  works. 
That  between  Merthyr  Tydvil  and  Cardiff,  was  the  longest  and  most 
important,  and  it  had  been  at  work  for  some  years.  It  had  probably 
occurred  to  Trevithick  that  here  was  a  fine  opportunity  for  putting  to 
practical  test  the  powers  of  the  locomotive,  and  he  proceeded  to 
construct  one  in  the  workshops. 

This  first  railway  locomotive  was  finished  and  tried  upon  the  Mer- 
thyr tram-road  on  the  2ist  of  February,  1804.  It  had  a  cylindrical 
wrought-iron  boiler,  with  flat  ends.  The  furnace  and  flue  were 
inside  the  boiler,  the  flue  returning,  having  its  exit  at  the  same 
end  at  which  it  entered,  so  as  to  increase  the  heating  surface.  The 
cylinder,  4^  in.  in  diameter,  was  placed  horizontally  in  the  end  of 
the  boiler,  and  the  waste  steam  was  thrown  into  the  stack.  The 
wheels  were  worked  in  the  same  manner  as  in  the  carriage-engine 
already  described ;  and  a  fly-wheel  was  added  on  one  side,  to  secure 
a  continuous  rotary  motion  at  the  end  of  each  stroke  of  the  piston. 
The  pressure  of  the  steam  was  about  40  Ibs.  on  the  inch.  The  engine  ran 
upon  four  wheels,  coupled  by  cog-wheels,  and  the  four  wheels  were 
smooth. 

On  the  first  trial,  this  engine  drew  for  a  distance  of  nine  miles,  ten 
tons  of  bar  iron,  together  with  the  necessary  carriages,  water,  and 
fuel,  at  the  rate  of  five  and  a  half  miles  an  hour.  Rees  Jones,  an 
old  engine-fitter,  who  helped  to  erect  the  engine,  gave  the  following 
account  of  its  performances:  "When  the  engine  was  finished,  she 
7 


98  RICHARD     TREVITHICK. 

was  used  for  bringing  down  metal  from  the  old  forge.  She  worked 
very  well ;  but  frequently,  from  her  weight,  broke  the  tram-plates, 
and  also  the  hooks  between  the  trams.  After  working  for  some  time 
in  this  way,  she  took  iron  from  Pen-y-darran  down  the  Basin  Road, 
upon  which  road  she  was  intended  to  work.  On  the  journey  she 
broke  a  great  many  tram-plates ;  and,  before  reaching  the  Basin,  she 
ran  off  the  road,  and  was  brought  back  by  horses.  The  engine  was 
never  used  as  a  locomotive  after  this ;  but  was  used  as  a  stationary 
engine  for  several  years." 

As  a  locomotive,  it  was  a  remarkable  success.  The  defect  lay  not 
in  the  engine  so  much  as  in  the  road.  This  was  formed  of  plate-rails 
of  cast  iron,  with  a  guiding  flange  upon  the  rail  instead  of  on  the  engine- 
wheels,  as  in  the  modern  locomotive.  The  rails  were  also  of  a  very 
weak  form,  considering  the  quantity  of  iron  in  them ;  and,  though 
they  were  sufficient  to  bear  loaded  wagons  mounted  on  small 
wheels,  as  ordinarily  drawn  along  them  by  horses,  they  were  found 
quite  insufficient  to  bear  Trevithick's  engine.  To  relay  the  road 
of  sufficient  strength  would  have  involved  a  heavy  out-lay,  which 
the  owneis  were  unwilling  to  incur,  not  yet  perceiving  the  advan- 
tage in  economy  of  employing  engine  in  lieu  of  horse  power.  The 
locomotive  was  taken  off  the  road,  and  the  experiment,  successful 
though  it  had  been,  brought  to  an  end. 

Trevithick  had,  however,  in  a  great  measure,  solved  the  problem 
of  steam  locomotion  on  railways.  He  had  produced  a  compact  en- 
gine, working  on  the  high-pressure  principle,  capable  of  carrying  fuel 
and  water  sufficient  for  a  journey  of  considerable  length,  and  of  draw- 
ing loaded  wagons  at  five  and  a  half  miles  an  hour.  He  had  shown 
by  his  smooth-wheeled  locomotive  that  the  weight  had  given  sufficient 
adhesion  for  hauling  the  load.  He  had  discharged  the  steam  into  the 
chimney,  though  not  for  the  purpose  of  increasing  the  draught,  as 
he  employed  bellows  for  that  purpose.  Trevithick's  friend,  Mr. 
Davies  Gilbert,  afterward  President  of  the  Royal  Society,  especially 
noticed  the  effect  of  discharging  the  waste  steam  into  the  chimney, 
and  observed  that,  when  moving,  each  puff  brightened  the  fire,  while 
scarcely  any  steam  or  smoke  came  from  the  chimney. 

Mr.  Gilbert  published  the  result  of  his  observations  in  "Nichol- 
son's Journal,"  and  Mr.  Nicholson  proceeded  to  make  a  series  of  experi- 
ments, the  result  of  which  was,  that  in  1806  he  took  out  a  patent  for 
a  steam-blasting  apparatus ;  but  it  is  remarkable  that  Trevithick  him- 
self remained  skeptical  as  to  its  use,  as  late  as  1815. 

In  the  mean  time  Trevithick  occupied  himself  as  a  general  engineer, 
and  was  ready  for  any  enterprise  likely  to  give  scope  to  his  inventive 
skill.  In  whatever  work  employed,  he  was  sure  to  introduce  new 
methods  and  arrangements,  if  not  new  inventions.  He  was  full  of 
speculative  enthusiasm,  a  great  theorist,  and  yet  an  indefatigable  ex- 
perimenter. Trevithick  was  not  satisfied  to  carry  on  a  prosperous 
engine  business  in  Cornwall.  Camborne  was  too  small  for  him,  and 


THAMES    TUNNEL — GOES    TO     PERU.  99 

the  Cornish  mining  districts  presented  too  limited  a  field  for  his 
ambitious  spirit.  So  he  went  to  London,  the  patent-office  drawing 
him  as  the  loadstone  does  the  needle.  In  1808,  he  took  out  two 
patents,  one  for  "  certain  machinery  for  towing,  driving,  or  forcing 
and  discharging  ships  and  other  vessels  of  their  cargoes,"  and  the 
other  for  "a  new  method  of  stowing  cargoes  of  ships."  In  1809,  he 
took  out  another  patent  for  constructing  docks,  ships,  etc.,  and  pro- 
pelling vessels. 

In  these  patents,  Trevithick  was  associated  with  one  Robert  Dick- 
inson, of  Great  Queen  Street,  but  his  name  stands  first  in  the  specifi- 
cation, wherein  he  describes  himself  as  "  of  Rotherhithe,  in  the  county 
of  Surrey,  engineer."  While  Trevithick  lived  at  Rotherhithe,  he  en- 
tered upon  a  remarkable  enterprise — no  less  than  the- construction  of 
a  tunnel  under  the  Thames — a  work  which  was  carried  out  with  so 
much  difficulty  by  Sir  Isambard  Brunei  some  twenty  years  later. 

Trevithick  returned  to  Camborne  in  1809,  where  we  find  him  busily 
occupied  with  new  projects,  and  introducing  his  new  engine  worked 
by  water  power,  as  well  as  in  perfecting  his  high-pressure  engine  and 
its  working  by  expansion.  In  1815,  Trevithick  took  out  a  farther 
patent,  embodying  several  important  applications  of  steam  power. 
One  of  ttoese  consisted  in  "causing  steam  of  a  high  pressure  to  spout 
out  against  the  atmosphere,  and  by  its  recoiling  force  to  produce 
motion  in  a  direction  contrary  to  the  issuing  steam,  similar  to  the 
motion  produced  in  a  rocket,xor  to  the  recoil  of  a  gun."  In 
another  part  of  his  specification,  Trevithick  described  the  screw-pro- 
peller as  "  a  screw  or  a  number  of  leaves  placed  obliquely  round  an 
axis  similar  to  the  vanes  of  a  smoke-jack,  which  shall  be  made  to  re- 
volve with  great  speed  in  a  line  with  the  required  motion  of  the  ship, 
or  parallel  to  the  same  line  of  motion."  In  a  second  part  of  the 
specification,  he  described  a  plunger  or  pole-engine,  in  which  the 
steam  worked  at  high  pressure.  The  first  engine  of  this  kind  was 
erected  by  Trevithick  at  Herland,  in  1815,  but  the  result  was  not 
equal  to  his  expectations,  though  the  principle  was  afterward  success- 
fully applied  by  Mr.  William  Sims,  who  purchased  the  patent-right. 

In  this  specification,  Trevithick  also  described  a  tubular  boiler  of  a 
new  construction,  for  the  purpose  of  more  rapidly  producing  high- 
pressure  steam,  the  heating  surface  being  extended  by  constructing 
the  boiler  of  a  number  of  small  perpendicular  tubes,  closed  at  the 
bottom,  but  all  opening  at  the  top  into  a  common  reservoir,  from 
whence  they  received  their  water,  and  into  which  the  steam  of  all  the 
tubes  was  united. 

While  Trevithick  was  engaged  in  these  ingenious  projects,  an  event 
occurred  which,  though  it  promised  to  issue  in  the  most  splendid  re- 
sults, proved  the  greatest  misfortune  of  his  life.  We  refer  to  his 
adventures  in  connection  with  the  gold  mines  of  Peru.  Many  of  the 
richest  of  them  had  been  drowned  out,  the  pumping  machinery  of 
the  country  being  incapable  of  clearing  them  of  water.  The  districts 


IOO  RICHARD     TREVITHICK. 

in  which  they  were  situated  were  almost  inaccessible  to  ordinary 
traffic,  all  transport  being  conducted  on  the  backs  of  men  or  of 
mules.  The  parts  of  an  ordinary  condensing  engine  were  too  pon- 
derous to  be  carried  up  these  mountain  heights,  and  it  was  evident 
that,  unless  some  lighter  sort  of  engine  could  be  employed,  the  mines 
in  question  must  be  abandoned. 

Mr.  Uville,  a  Swiss  gentleman  interested  in  South  American  mining, 
went  from  Peru  to  England  in  1811,  for  the  purpose  of  obtaining 
such  an  engine,  but  he  received  no  encouragement.  He  was  about 
to  return  to  Lima,  in  despair  of  accomplishing  his  object,  when,  ac- 
cidentally passing  a  shop-window  in  Fitzroy  Square,  he  caught  sight 
of  an  engine  exposed  for  sale.  It  was  the  engine  constructed  by 
Trevithick  for  his  first  locomotive,  which  he  had  sold  some  years 
before.  Mr.  Uville  was  pleased  with  its  construction  and  mode  of 
action,  and  at  once  purchased  it.  Arrived  in  South  America,  he  had 
the  engine  transported  across  the  mountains  to  the  rich  mining  district 
of  Pasco,  a  hundred  miles  north  of  Lima,  to  try  it  on  the  highest 
mountain  ridges. 

The  experiment  was  satisfactory,  and  an  association  of  influential 
gentlemen  was  immediately  formed  to  introduce  the  engine  on  a  large 
scale,  and  enter  into  contracts  with  the  mine-owners  for  clearing  their 
shafts  of  water.  The  Viceroy  of  Peru  approved  the  plan,  and  the 
association  dispatched  Mr.  Uville  to  England  to  purchase  the  engines. 
He  took  ship  for  Falmouth  about  the  end  of  1812,  for  the  purpose  of 
finding  out  Trevithick.  He  only  knew  of  Trevithick  by  name,  and 
that  he  lived  in  Cornwall.  Full  of  his  subject,  he  could  not  refrain 
from  conversing  on  the  subject  with  passengers  on  board  the  ship.  It 
so  happened  that  one  of  them — a  Mr.  Teague — was  a  relative  of 
Trevithick,  who,  shortly  after  their  landing,  introduced  him  to  the  in- 
ventor ;  in  the  course  of  a  few  days,  Uville  was  enabled  to  discuss  the 
scheme  with  Trevithick,  at  his  own  house  at  Camborne.  The  result 
was  an  order  for  a  number  of  high-pressure  pumping-engines,  which 
were  put  in  hand,  and  on  the  ist  of  September,  1814,  nine  of  them 
were  shipped  at  Portsmouth  for  Lima,  accompanied  by  Uville  and 
three  Cornish  engineers,  one  of  whom  was  Bull,  Trevithick's  first 
partner. 

The  engines  reached  Lima,  and  were  welcomed  by  a  royal  salute 
and  public  rejoicings.  Such  was  the  difficulty  of  transporting  the 
materials  across  the  mountains,  that  it  was  the  middle  of  the  year  1816 
before  the  first  engine  was  set  to  work  to  pump  out  the  Santa  Rosa 
mine,  in  the  royal  mineral  territory  of  Yaiiricocha.  The  association 
to  whom  the  engines  belonged  had  entered  into  a  contract  to  drain 
this,  among  other  mines,  on  condition  of  sharing  one-fourth  of  the  gross 
produce  of  the  ores.  The  first  results  were  so  satisfactory  that  the  pro- 
jectors were  filled  with  no  less  astonishment  than  delight,  and  they 
"  anticipated  a  torrent  of  silver  that  would  fill  surrounding  nations 
with  astonishment." 


HIS    ADVENTURES    IN    PERU.  IOI 

In  the  mean  time  Trevithick  was  at  home  manufacturing  the  remain- 
ing engines,  also  new  coining  apparatus  for  the  Peruvian  mint,  and 
furnaces  for  purifying  silver  ore  by  fusion.  With  these  engines  and 
apparatus  he  sailed  for  Lima  in  October,  1816,  reaching  there  the 
following  February.  He  was  received  with  almost  royal  honors,  and  was 
officially  announced  as  "Don  Ricardo  Trevithick,  an  eminent  professoi 
of  mechanics,  machinery,  and  mineralogy,  inventor  and  constructor 
of  the  engines  of  the  last  patent,"  and  was  escorted  to  the  mines  ac- 
companied by  a  guard  of  honor.  The  news  occasioned  great  rejoic- 
ings, and  the  chief  men  came  down  the  mountains  to  welcome  him. 
Uville  wrote  to  his  associates  that  Trevithick  had  been  sent  out  "  by 
heaven  for  the  prosperity  of  the  mines,  and  that  the  lord  warden  pro- 
posed to  erect  his  statue  in  solid  silver."  Trevithick  wrote  to  his 
friends  in  Cornwall  that  he  had  before  him  the  prospect  of  almost 
boundless  wealth,  having,  in  addition  to  his  emoluments  as  patentee, 
obtained  a  fifth  share  in  the  Lima  Company,  which,  he  expected,  on 
a  moderate  computation,  would  yield  him  about  ioo,ooo/.  a  year. 

But  these  brilliant  prospects  were  suddenly  blasted  by  the  Peru- 
vian revolution  which  broke  out  in  the  following  year.  While  Mr. 
Boaze  was  reading  his  paper  before  the  Royal  Geological  Society  of 
Cornwall,  in  which  these  anticipations  of  Trevithick's  fame  and  fortune 
were  described,  Lord  Cochrane  was  on  his  way  to  South  America  to 
take  command  of  the  Chilian  fleet  in  its  attack  on  the  ports  of  Peru, 
still  in  the  possession  of  the  Spaniards. 

Toward  the  end  of  1818,  Lord  Cochrane  hoisted  his  flag,  and  as- 
sailed the  Spanish  fleet  in  Callao  Harbor.  This  proved  the  signal  for 
a  general  insurrection,  during  the  continuance  of  which  the  commer- 
cial and  industrial  affairs  of  the  province  were  completely  paralyzed. 

The  result  to  Trevithick  was,  that  he  and  his  partners  in  the  Min- 
ing Company  were  consigned  to  ruin.  It  has  been  said  that  the 
engineer  joined  the  patriotic  party,  and  invented  for  Lord  Cochrane 
an  ingenious  gun-carriage,  centered  and  equally  balanced  on  pivots, 
and  easily  worked  by  machinery;  but  of  this  no  mention  is  made  by 
Lord  Cochrane  in  his  "Memoirs."  The  Patriots  kept  Trevithick  on 
the  mountains  as  a  sort  of  patron  and  protector  of  their  interests ; 
but  for  this  very  reason  he  became  proportionately  obnoxious  to  the 
Royalists,  who  destroyed  his  engines,  and  broke  up  his  machinery 
wherever  they  could.  At  length  he -determined  to  escape  from  Peru, 
and  fled  northward  across  the  mountains,  accompanied  by  a  single 
friend,  making  for  the  Isthmus  of  Panama.  In  the  course  of  this 
long,  toilsome,  and  dangerous  journey,  he  encountered  great  privations; 
he  slept  in  the  forest  at  night,  traveled  on  foot  by  day,  and  crossed 
the  streams  by  swimming.  At  length,  his  clothes  torn,  worn,  and 
hanging  almost  in  shreds,  and  his  baggage  all  lost,  he  succeeded  in 
reaching  the  port  of  Carthagena,  on  the  Gulf  of  Darien,  almost 
destitute. 


102  RICHARD     TREVITHICK. 

Here  he  encountered  Robert  Stephenson,  who  was  waiting  at  the 
one  inn  of  the  place  until  a  ship  was  ready  to  set  sail  for  England. 
Stephenson  had  finished  his  engagement  with  the  Columbian  Mining 
Company,  and  was  eager  to  return  home.  When  Trevi thick  entered 
the  room,  Stephenson  at  once  saw  that  he  was  an  Englishman.  He 
stood  some  six  feet  in  height,  and,  though  well  proportioned  when 
in  ordinary  health,  he  was  now  gaunt  and  hollow,  the  picture  of  priva- 
tion and  misery. 

Stephenson  made  up  to  the  stranger,  and  was  not  a  little  surprised 
to  find  that  he  was  no  other  than  the  famous  engineer,  Trevithick, 
the  builder  of  the  first  patent  locomotive,  and  who,  when  he  last 
heard  of  him,  was  accumulating  so  gigantic  a  fortune  in  Peru. 
Though  now  penniless,  Trevithick  was  as  full  of  speculation  as  ever, 
and  related  to  Stephenson  that  he  was  on  his  way  home  for  the  pur- 
pose of  organizing  another  gold-mining  company,  which  should  make 
the  fortunes  of  all  who  took  part  in  it.  He  was,  however,  unable  to 
pay  for  his  passage,  and  Stephenson  lent  him  the  money  for  the 
purpose. 

As  there  was  no  vessel  likely  to  sail  for  England  soon,  Stephenson 
and  Trevithick  took  the  first  ship  for  New  York.  After  a  passage  full 
of  adventure  and  peril,  the  vessel  was  driven  on  a  lee-shore,  and  the 
passengers  and  crew  barely  escaped  with  their  lives.  On  reaching 
New  York,  Trevithick  immediately  set  sail  for  England,  and  landed 
at  Falmouth  in  October,  1827,  taking  back  with  him  a  pair  of  silver 
spurs,  the  only  remnant  of  those  "torrents  of  silver"  which  his  en- 
gines were  to  raise  from  the  mines  of  Peru. 

Very  soon  Trevithick  memorialized  the  government  for  some  re- 
muneration adequate  to  the  great  benefit  which  the  country  had  de- 
rived from  his  invention  of  the  high-pressure  steam-engine,  and  his 
introduction  of  the  cylindrical  boiler.  The  petition  was  prepared  in 
December,  1827,  and  was  cheerfully  signed  by  the  leading  mine-own- 
ers and  engineers  in  Cornwall ;  but  there  their  efforts  on  his  behalf 
ended. 

He  took  out  two  more  patents — one  in  1831,  for  a  new  method  of 
heating  apartments,  and  another  in  1832,  for  improvements  in  the 
steam-engine,  and  the  application  of  steam  power  to  navigation  and 
locomotion,  but  neither  of  them  seems  to  have  proved  of  any  service 
to  him. 

Strange  to  say,  though  Trevithick  had  been  so  intimately  connected 
with  the  practical  introduction  of  the  Locomotive,  he  seems  to  have 
taken  but  little  interest  in  its  introduction  upon  railways,  but  confined 
himself  to  advocating  its  employment  on  common  roads  as  its  most 
useful  application.  On  the  i2th  of  August,  1831,  by  which  time  the 
Liverpool  and  Manchester  line  was  in  full  work,  Trevithick  appeared 
as  a  witness  before  the  select  committee  of  the  House  of  Commons 
on  the  employment  of  steam  carriages  on  common  roads.  He  said 
"he  had  been  abroad  a  good  many  years,  and  had  had  nothing  to  do 


HIS    NUMEROUS     INVENTIONS.  103 

with  steam  carriages  until  very  lately.  He  had  it  now,  however,  in 
contemplation  to  do  a  great  deal  on  common  roads,  and,  with  that 
view,  had  taken  out  a  patent  for  an  entirely  new  engine,  the  arrange- 
ments in  which  were  calculated  to  obviate  all  the  difficulties  which  had 
hitherto  stood  in  the  way  of  traveling  on  common  roads."  Though 
in  many  things  he  was  before  his  age,  here  he  was  unquestionably 
behind  it.  But  Trevithick  was  now  an  old  man ;  his  constitution  was 
broken,  and  his  energy  worked  out.  Younger  men  were  in-the  field, 
less  ingenious  and  speculative,  but  more  practical  and  energetic ;  and 
in  the  blaze  of  their  fame  the  Cornish  engineer  was  forgotten. 

During  the  last  year  of  his  life  Trevithick  resided  at  Dartford,  in 
Kent.  He  had  induced  the  Messrs.  Hall,  the  engineers  of  that  place, 
to  give  him  an  opportunity  of  testing  the  value  of  his  last  invention 
— that  of  a  vessel  driven  by  the  ejection  of  water  through  a  tube — 
and  he  went  there  to  superintend  the  construction  of  the  necessary 
engine  and  apparatus.  The  vessel  was  duly  fitted  up,  and  several  ex- 
periments were  made  with  it  in  the  adjoining  creek,  but  it  did  not  real- 
ize a  speed  of  more  than  four  miles  an  hour.  Trevithick,  being  of 
opinion  that  the  engine-power  was  insufficient,  proceeded  to  have  a 
new  engine  constructed,  to  the  boiler  of  which,  within  the  furnace, 
numerous  tubes  were  attached,  round  which  the  fire  played.  So  much 
steam  was  raised  by  this  arrangement  that  the  piston  "  blew,"  but  still 
the  result  of  the  experiments  was  unsatisfactory.  While  laboring  at 
these -inventions,  and  planning  new  arrangements  never  to  be  carried 
out,  the  engineer  was  seized  by  the  illness  of  which  he  died,  on  the 
2zd  of  April,  1833,  in  the  62d  year  of  his  age. 

As  Trevithick  was  entirely  without  means  at  his  death,  besides  being 
some  sixty  pounds  in  debt  to  the  landlord  of  the  Bull  Inn,  where  he 
had  been  lodging  for  nearly  a  year,  he  would  propably  have  been 
buried  at  the  expense  of  the  parish  but  for  the  Messrs.  Hall  and  their 
workmen,  who  raised  a  sum  sufficient  to  give  the  "great  inventor  "  a 
decent  burial ;  and  they  followed  his  remains  to  the  grave  in  Dept- 
ford  Church-yard,  where  he  lies  without  a  stone  to  mark  his  resting- 
place. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  as  to  the  great  mechanical  ability  of  Trev- 
ithick. He  was  a  man  of  original  and  intuitive  genius  in  invention. 
Every  mechanical  arrangement  which  he  undertook  to  study  issued 
from  his  hands  transformed  and  improved.  But  there  he  rested.  He 
struck  out  many  inventions,  and  left  them  to  take  care  of  themselves. 
His  great  failing  was  the  want  of  perseverance.  His  mind  was  always 
full  of  projects;  but  his  very  genius  led  him  astray  in  search  of  new 
things,  while  his  imagination  often  outran  his  judgment.  Hence  his 
life  was  but  a  series  of  beginnings. 

Look  at  the  extraordinary  things  that  Trevithick  began.  He  made 
the  first  railway  locomotive,  and  cast  the  invention  aside,  leaving  it 
to  others  to  take  it  up  and  prosecute  it  to  a  successful  issue.  He 
introduced,  if  he  did  not  invent,  the  cylindrical  boiler  and  the  high- 


104  RICHARD     TREVITHICK. 

pressure  engine,  which  increased  so  enormously  the  steam-power  of 
the  world ;  but  he  reaped  the  profits  of  neither.  He  invented  an 
oscillating  engine  and  a  screw  propeller  ;  he  took  out  a  patent  for 
using  superheated  steam,  as  well  as  for  wrought-iron  ships  and  wrought- 
iron  floating  docks ;  but  he  left  it  to  others  to  introduce  these  several 
inventions. 

Never  was  there  such  a  series  of  splendid  mechanical  beginnings. 
He  began  a  Thames  Tunnel,  and  abandoned  it.  He  went  to  South 
America  with  the  prospect  of  making  a  gigantic  fortune,  but  he  had 
scarcely  begun  to  gather  in  his  gold  than  he  was  forced  to  fly,  and 
returned  home  destitute.  This,  however,  was  a  misfortune  which  no 
efforts  on  his  part,  could  have  prevented.  But  even  when  he  had  the 
best  chances,  Trevithick  threw  them  away.  When  he  had  brought 
his  road  locomotive  to  London  to  exhibit,  and  was  beginning  to  ex- 
cite the  curiosity  of  the  public  respecting  it,  he  suddenly  closed  the 
exhibition  in  a  fit  of  caprice,  removed  the  engine,  and  returned  to 
Cornwall  in  a  tiff.  The  failure,  also,  of  the  railroad  on  which  his 
locomotive  traveled  so  provoked  him  that  he  at  once  abandoned  the 
enterprise  in  disgust. 

There  may  have  been  some  moral  twist  in  the  engineer's  character, 
into  which  we  do  not  seek  to  pry;  but  it  seems  clear  that  he  was 
wanting  in  that  resolute  perseverance,  that  power  of  fighting  an  up- 
hill battle,  without  which  no  great  enterprise  can  be  conducted  to  a 
successful  issue.  In  this  respect,  the  character  of  Richard  Trevithick 
presents  a  remarkable  contrast  to  that  of  George  Stephenson,  who 
took  up  only  one  of  the  many  projects  which  the  other  had  cast 
aside,  and  by  dint  of  application,  industry,  and  perseverance,  carried 
into  effect  one  of  the  most  remarkable,  but  peaceful  revolutions 
which  has  ever  been  accomplished  in  any  age  or  country. 

We  now  proceed  to^describe  the  history  of  this  revolution  in  con- 
nection with  the  Life  of  George  Stephenson,  and  to  trace  the  loco- 
motive through  its  several  stages  of  development  until  we  find  it  re- 
cognized as  one  of  the  most  vigorous  and  untiring  workers  in  the 
entire  world  of  industry. 


GEORGE   STEPHENSON. 


THE  colliery  village  of  Wylam  is  situated  on  the  north  bank  of 
the  Tyne,  about  eight  miles  west  of  Newcastle.  The  New- 
castle and  Carlisle  Railway  runs  along  the  opposite  bank;  and  the 
traveler  by  that  line  sees  the  usual  signs  of  a  colliery  in  the  unsightly 
pumping-engines  surrounded  by  heaps  of  ashes,  coal-dust,  and  slag, 
while  a  neighboring  iron-furnace  in  full  blast  throws  out  dense  smoke 
and  loud  jets  of  steam  by  day,  and  lurid  flames  at  night.  These 
works  form  the  nucleus  of  the  village,  which  is  almost  entirely  occu- 
pied by  coal-miners  and  iron- furnace-men.  The  place  is  remarkable 
for  its  large  population,  but  not  for  its  cleanness  or  neatness  as  a 
village;  the  houses,  as  in  most  colliery  villages,  being  the  property 
of  the  owners  or  lessees,  who  employ  them  in  temporarily  accommo- 
dating the  work-people,  against  whose  earnings  there  is  a  weekly 
Iset-off  for  house  and  coals.  About  the  end  of  last  century,  the  estate 
of  which  Wylam  forms  part,  belonged  to  Mr.  Blackett,  a  gentleman 
of  considerable  celebrity  in  coal-mining,  then  more  generally  known 
as  the  proprietor  of  the  "Globe"  newspaper. 

There  is  nothing  to  interest  one  in  the  village  itself.  But  a  few 
hundred  yards  from  its  eastern  extremity  stands  a  humble  detached 
dwelling,  which  will  be  interesting  to  many  as  the  birth-place  of  one 
of  the  most  remarkable  men  of  our  times — George  Stephenson,  the 
Railway  Engineer.  It  is  a  common,  two-storied,  red-tiled,  rubble 
House,  portioned  off  into  four  laborers'  apartments. 

The  lower  room  in  the  west  end  of  this  house  was  the  home  of 
the  Stephenson  family,  and  there  George  Stephenson  was  born,  the 
second  of  a  family  of  six  children,  on  the  Qth  of  June,  1781.  The 
apartment  is  now,  what  it  was  then,  an  ordinary  laborer's  dwelling; 
its  walls  are  unplastered,  its  floor  is  of  clay,  and  the  bare  rafters  are 
exposed  overhead. 

Robert  Stephenson,  or  "Old  Bob,"  as  the  neighbors  familiarly 
called  him,  and  his  wife  Mabel,  were  a  respectable  couple,  careful 
and  hard-working.  Robert  Stephenson's  father  was  a  Scotchman, 
who  came  into  England  in  the  capacity  of  a  gentleman's  servant. 


106  GEORGE     STEPHENSON. 

Mabel,  his  wife,  was  the  second  daughter  of  Robert  Carr,  a  dyer  at 
Ovingham.  The  Carrs  were,  for  several  generations,  the  owners  of 
a  house  in  that  village  adjoining  the  church-yard.  Mabel  Stephenson 
was  a  woman  of  somewhat  delicate  constitution,  and  troubled  occa- 
sionally, as  her  neighbors  said,  with  "the  vapors." 

George  Stephenson  was  the  the  second  of  a  family  of  six  children. 

An  old  Wylam  collier,  who  remembered  George  Stephenson's  father, 
thus  described  him :  "  Geordie's  fayther  war  like  a  peer  o'  deals 
nailed  thegither,  an'  a  bit  o'  flesh  i'  th'  inside ;  he  war  as  queer  as 
Dick's  hatband — went  thrice  aboot,  an'  wudn't  tie.  His  wife  Mabel 
war  a  delicat'  boddie,  an'  varry  flighty.  They  war  an  honest  family, 
but  sair  hadden  doon  i'  th'  world."  Indeed,  the  earnings  of  old 
Robert  did  not  amount  to  more  than  twelve  shillings  a  week  ;  and,  as 
there  were  six  children  to  maintain,  the  family,  during  their  stay  at 
Wylam,  were  necessarily  in  very  straitened  circumstances.  The 
father's  wages  being  barely  sufficient,  even  with  the  most  rigid  economy, 
for  the  sustenance  of  the  household,  there  was  little  to  spare  for 
clothing,  and  nothing  for  education,  so  that  none  of  the  children  were 
sent  to  school. 

Old  Robert  was  a  general  favorite  in  the  village,  especially  among 
the  children,  whom  he  was  accustomed  to  draw  about  him  while 
tending  the  engine-fire,  and  feast  their  young  imaginations  with  tales 
of  Sinbad  the  Sailor  and  Robinson  Crusoe,  besides  others  of  his  own 
invemion  ;  so  that  "  Bob's  engine-fire  "  came  to  be  the  most  popular 
resort  in  the  village.  Another  feature  in  his  character,  by  which  he 
was  long  remembered,  was  his  affection  for  birds  and  animals;  and  he 
had  many  tame  favorites  of  both  sorts,  which  were  as  fond  of  resort- 
ing to  his  engine-fire  as  the  boys  and  girls  themselves.  In  the  winter 
time  he  had  usually  a  flock  of  tame  robins  about  him ;  and  they 
would  come  hopping  familiarly  to  his  feet  to  pick  up  the  crumbs 
which  he  had  saved  for  them  out  of  his  humble  dinner.  At  his  cot- 
tage he  was  rarely  without  one  or  more  tame  blackbirds,  which  flew 
about  the  house,  or  in  and  out  at  the  door.  In  summer  time  he  would 
go  bird-nesting  with  his  children  ;  and  one  day  he  took  his  litde  boy, 
George,  to  see  a  blackbird's  nest  for  the  first  time.  Holding  him  up 
in  his  arms,  he  let  the  wondering  boy  peep  down,  through  \he 
branches  held  aside  for  the  purpose,  into  a  nest  full  of  young  birds- 
a  sight  which  the  boy  never  forgot,  but  used  to  speak  of  with  delight 
to  his  intimate  friends,  when  he  himself  had  grown  an  old  man. 

The  boy,  George,  led  the  ordinary  life  of  working  people's  children. 
He  played  about  the  doors;  went  bird-nesting  when  he  could;  and 
ran  errands  to  the  village.  He  was  also  an  eager  listener,  with  the 
other  children,  to  his  father's  curious  tales,  and  he  early  imbibed 
from  him  his  affection  for  birds  and  animals.  In  course  of  time  he 
was  promoted  to  the  office  of  carrying  his  father's  dinner  to  him  while 
at  work,  and  at  home  he  helped  to  nurse  his  younger  brothers  and 
sisters.  One  of  his  earliest  duties  was  to  see  that  the  other  children 


THE     FIRST     MONEY     HE     EARNED.  107 

were  kept  out  of  the  way  of  the  chaldron  wagons,  which  were  then 
dragged  by  horses  along  the  wooden  tram-road  immediately  in  front 
of  the  cottage  door. 

This  wagon-way  was  the  first  in  the  northern  district  on  which  the 
experiment  of  a  locomotive  engine  was  tried.  But,  at  the  time  of 
which  we  speak,  the  locomotive  had  scarcely  been  dreamt  of  in  Eng- 
land as  a  practicable  working  power  ;  horses  only  were  used  to  haul  the 
coal ;  and  one  of  the  first  sights  with  which  the  boy  was  familiar  was 
the  coal-wagons  dragged  by  them  along  the  wooden  railway  at  Wy- 
lam.  Thus  eight  years  passed  ;  after  which,  the  coal  having  been 
worked  out  on  the  north  side,  the  old  engine,  which  had  grown 
"dismal  to  look  at,"  as  an  old  workman  described  it,  was  pulled 
down  ;  and  then  old  Robert,  having  obtained  employment  as  a  fire- 
man at  the  Dewley  Burn  Colliery,  removed  with  his  family  to  that 
place. 

Young  though  he  was,  George  was  now  of  an  age  to  be  able  to 
contribute  something  toward  the  family  maintenance ;  for,  in  a  poor 
man's  house,  every  child  is  a  burden  until  his  little  hands  can  be  turned 
to  profitable  account.  That  the  boy  was  shrewd  and  active,  and  pos- 
sessed of  a  ready  mother-wit,  will  be  evident  enough  from  the  follow- 
ing incident.  One  day  his  sister  Nell  went  into  Newcastle  to  buy  a 
bonnet,  and  Geordie  went  with  her  "for  company."  At  a  draper's 
shop,  in  the  Bigg  Market,  Nell  found  a  "chip"  quite  to  her  mind, 
but  on  pricing  it,  alas  !  it  was  found  to  be  fifteen  pence  beyond  her 
means.  Girl-like,  she  had  set  her  mind  upon  that  bonnet,  and  no 
other  would  please  her.  She  accordingly  left  the  shop  very  much  de- 
jected. But  Geordie  said,  "  Never  heed,  Nell ;  come  wi'  me,  and 
I'll  see  if  I  cannawin  siller  enough  to  buy  the  bonnet ;  stand  ye  there 
till  I  come  back."  Away  ran  the  boy,  and  disappeared  amid  the 
throng  of  the  market,  leaving  the  girl  to  wait  his  return.  Long  and 
long  she  waited,  until  it  grew  dusk,  and  the  market-people  had  nearly 
all  left.  She  had  begun  to  despair,  and  fears  crossed  her  mind  that 
Geordie  must  have  been  run  over  and  killed,  when  at  last  up  he  came 
running,  almost  breathless.  "I've  gotten  the  siller  for  the  bonnet, 
Nell !"  cried  he.  "  Eh,  Geordie  !"  she  said,  "  but  hoo  hae  ye  got- 
ten it?"  "  Hauddin  the  gentlemen's  horses!"  was  the  exultant 
reply.  The  bonnet  was  forthwith  bought,  and  the  two  returned  to 
Dewley  in  triumph. 

George's  first  regular  employment  was  of  a  very  humble  sort.  A 
widow,  named  Grace  Ainslie,  then  occupied  the  neighboring  farm- 
house of  Dewley.  She  kept  a  number  of  cows,  and  had  the  privilege 
of  grazing  them  along  the  wagon-ways.  She  needed  a  boy  to  herd  the 
cows,  to  keep  them  out  of  the  way  of  the  wagons,  and  prevent  their 
straying  or  trespassing  on  the  neighbors'  "liberties;"  the  boy's  duty 
was  also  to  bar  the  gates  at  night  after  all  the  wagons  had  passed. 
George  petitioned  for  this  post,  and,  to  his  great  joy,  he  was  appointed, 
at  the  pay  of  twopence  a  day. 


108  GEORGE     STEPHENSON. 

It  was  light  employment,  and  he  had  plenty  of  spare  time  on  his 
hands,  which  he  spent  in  bird-nesting,  making  whistles  out  of  reeds 
and  scrannel  straws,  and  erecting  liliputian  mills  in  the  little  water- 
streams  that  ran  into  the  Dewley  bog.  But  his  favorite  amusement 
at  this  early  age  was  erecting  clay  engines  in  conjunction  with  his 
playmate,  Bill  Thirlwall.  The  place  is  still  pointed  out  where  the 
future  engineers  made  their  first  essays  in  modeling.  The  boys  found 
the  clay  for  their  engines  in  the  adjoining  bog,  and  the  hemlocks 
which  grew  about  supplied  them  with  imaginary  steam-pipes.  They 
even  proceeded  to  make  a  miniature  winding-machine  in  connection 
with  their  engine,  and  the  apparatus  was  erected  upon  a  bench  in  front 
of  the  Thirlwalls'  cottage.  Their  corves  were  made  out'  of  hollowed 
corks ;  their  ropes  were  supplied  by  twine ;  and  a  few  bits  of  wood 
gleaned  from  the  refuse  of  the  carpenters'  shop  completed  their 
materials.  With  this  apparatus  the  boys  made  a  show  of  sending  the 
corves  down  the  pit  and  drawing  them  up  again,  much  to  the  marvel 
of  the  pitmen.  But  some  mischievous  person  about  the  place  seized 
the  opportunity  early  one  morning  of  smashing  the  fragile  machinery, 
greatly  to  the  grief  of  the  young  engineers.  We  may  mention,  in 
passing,  that  George's  companion  afterward  became  a  workman  of  re- 
pute, and  creditably  held  the  office  of  engineer  at  Shilbottle,  near 
Alnwick,  for  a  period  of  nearly  thirty  years. 

As  Stephenson  grew  older  and  abler  to  work,  he  was  set  to  lead 
the  horses  when  plowing,  though  scarce  big  enough  to  stride  across 
the  furrows ;  and  he  used  afterward  to  say  that  he  rode  to  his  work 
in  the  mornings  at  an  hour  when  most  other  children  of  his  age  were 
asleep  in  their  beds.  He  was  also  employed  to  hoe  turnips,  and  do 
similar  farm-work,  for  which  he  was  paid  fourpence  a  day.  But  his 
highest  ambition  was  to  be  taken  on  at  the  colliery  where  his  father 
worked ;  and  he  shortly  joined  his  elder  brother  James  there  as  a 
"corf-bitter,"  or  "picker,"  to  clear  the  coal  of  stones,  bats,  and 
dross.  His  wages  were  then  advanced  to  sixpence  a  day,  and  after- 
ward to  eightpence  when  he  was  sent  to  drive  the  gin-horse. 

Shortly  after,  George  went  to  Black  Callerton  Colliery  to  drive  the 
gin  there ;  and,  as  that  colliery  lies  about  two  miles  across  the  fields 
from  Dewley  Burn,  the  boy  walked  that  distance  early  in  the  morning 
to  his  work,  returning  home  late  in  the  evening.  One  of  the  old 
residents  described  him  as  a  "  grit-growing  lad,  with  bare  legs  an* 
feet ;  very  quick-witted,  and  full  of  fun  and  tricks :  indeed,  there  was 
nothing  under  the  sun  but  he  tried  to  imitate."  He  was  usually 
foremost  also  in  the  sports  and  pastimes  of  youth.  Among  his  first 
strongly  developed  tastes  was  the  love  of  birds  and  animals,  which  he 
inherited  from  his  father. 

After  he  had  driven  the  gin  for  some  time,  he  was  taken  on  as 
assistant  to  his  father  in  firing  the  engine.  He  used  to  relate  how 
he  was  wont  to  hide  himself  when  the  owner  of  the  colliery  went 
round,  in  case  he  should  be  thought  too  little  a  boy  to  earn  the 


YOUTHFUL     SPORTS     AND     OCCUPATIONS. 


109 


wages  paid  him.  His  young  ambition  was  to  be  an  engine-man ;  and 
to  be  an  assistant  fireman  was  the  first  step  toward  this  position. 
Great,  therefore,  was  his  joy  when,  at  about  fourteen  years  of  age,  he 
was  appointed  assistant  fireman,  at  a  shilling  a  day. 

Other  workings  of  the  coal  were  opened  out  in  the  neighborhood, 
and  to  one  of  these  George  was  removed  as  fireman  on  his  own  ac- 
count, wheie  he  had  for  his  mate  a  young  man  named  Coe.  They 
worked  together  there  for  about  two  years,  by  twelve-hour  shifts. 
He  was  now  fifteen  years  years  old.  He  endeavored  to  attain  such 
a  knowledge  of  his  engine  as  would  eventually  lead  to  his  employ- 
ment as  engine-man,  with  its  accompanying  advantage  of  higher  pay. 
He  was  a  steady,  sober,  hard-working  young  man,  but  nothing  more 
in  the  estimation  of  his  fellow- workmen. 

One  of  his  favorite  pastimes  in  by-hours  was  trying  feats  of  strength 
with  his  companions.  Although  in  frame  he  was  not  particularly  ro- 
bust, yet  he  was  big  and  bony,  and  considered  very  strong  for  his 
age.  At  throwing  the  hammer,  George  had  no  compeer.  At  lifting 
heavy  weights  off  the  ground  from  between  his  feet,  by  means  of  a 
bar  of  iron  passed  through  them — placing  the  bar  against  his  knees 
as  a  fulcrum,  and  then  straightening  his  spine  and  lifting  them  sheer 
up — he  was  also  very  successful.  On  one  occasion  he  lifted  over 
eight  hundred  pounds — a  striking  indication  of  his  strength  of  bone 
and  muscle. 

When  at  Throckley  Bridge,  his  wages  were  raised  to  i2s.  a  week. 
On  coming  out  of  the  foreman's  office  that  Saturday  evening,  he 
announced  the  fact  to  his  fellow- workmen,  adding  triumphantly,  "  I 
am  now  a  made  man  for  life !" 

A  pumping-engine  was  erected  about  half  a  mile  west  of  Newburn, 
and  old  Stephenson  went  to  work  it  as  fireman,  his  son  George  act- 
ing as  the  enginfc-man  or  plugman.  At  that  time  he  was  about  sev- 
enteen years  old — a  very  youthful  age  at  which  to  fill  so  responsible 
a  post.  He  had  thus  got  ahead  of  his  father  in  his  station,  for  the 
plugman  holds  a  higher  grade  than  the  fireman,  requiring  more  prac- 
tical knowledge  and  skill. 

From  the  time  that  George  Stephenson  was  appointed  fireman,  and 
more  particularly  afterward  as  engine-man,  he  applied  himself  so 
assiduously  and7  successfully  to  the  study  of  the  engine  and  its  gear- 
ing— taking  the  machine  to  pieces  in  his  leisure  hours  for  the  pur- 
pose of  cleaning  it  and  understanding  its  various  parts — that  he  soon 
acquired  a  thorough  practical  knowledge  of  its  construction  and 
mode  of  working,  and  very  rarely  needed  to  call  the  engineer  of 
the  colliery  to  his  aid.  His  engine  became  a  sort  of  pet  with  him, 
and  he  was  never  wearied  of  watching  and  inspecting  it  with  admir- 
ation. . 

There  is,  indeed,  a  peculiar  fascination  about  an  engine  to  the  per- 
son whose  duty  it  is  to  watch  and  work  it.  It  is  almost  sublime  in 


110  GEORGE     STEPHENSON. 

its  untiring  industry  and  quiet  power;  capable  of  performing  the 
most  gigantic  work,  yet  so  docile  that  a  child's  hand  may  guide  it. 
No  wonder,  therefore,  that  the  workman  who  is  the  daily  companion 
of  this  life-like  machine,  and  is  constantly  watching  it  with  anxious 
care,  at  length  comes  to  regard  it  with  a  degree  of  personal  interest 
and  regard.  This  daily  contemplation  of  the  steam-engine,  and  the 
sight  of  its  steady  action,  is  an  education  of  itself  to  an  ingenious 
and  thoughtful  man.  And  it  is  a  remarkable  fact,  that  nearly  all 
that  has  been  done  for  the  improvement  of  this  machine  has  been 
accomplished,  not  by  philosophers  and  scientific  men,  but  by  labor- 
ers, mechanics,  and  engine-men.  Indeed,  it  would  appear  as  if  this 
were  one  of  the  departments  of  practical  science  in  which  the  higher 
powers  of  the  human  mind  must  bend  to  mechanical  instinct. 

Stephenson  was  now  in  his  eighteenth  year,  but,  like  many  of  his 
fellow- workmen,  he  had  not  yet  learned  to  read.  All  that  he  could 
do  was  to  get  some  one  to  read  for  him  by  his  engine-fire,  out  of 
any  book  or  stray  newspaper  which  found  its  way  into  the  neighbor- 
hood. Bonaparte  was  then  overrunning  Italy,  and  astounding  Europe 
by  his  brilliant  succession  of  victories ;  and  there  was  no  more  eager 
auditor  of  his  exploits,  as  read  from  the  newspaper  accounts,  than  the 
young  engine-man  at  the  Water-row  Pit. 

Modeling  of  engines  in  clay  continued  to  be  one  of  his  favorite 
occupations.  He  made  models  of  engines  which  he  had  seen,  and  of 
others  which  were  described  to  him.  These  attempts  were  an  im- 
provement upon  his  first  trials  at  Dewley  Burn  bog,  when  occupied 
there  as  a  herd-boy.  He  was,  however,  anxious  to  know  something 
of  the  wonderful  engines  of  Watt,  and  was  told  that  they  were  to  be 
found  fully  described  in  books,  which  he  must  search  for  information 
as  to  their  construction,  action,  and  uses.  But,  alas  !  Stephenson 
could  not  read ;  he  had  not  yet  learned  even  his  letters. 

He  shortly  found  that,  to  advance  farther  as  a  skilled  workman,  he 
must  master  this  wonderful  art  of  reading.  Although  a  grown  man, 
he  was  not  ashamed  to  go  to  school  to  learn  his  letters. 

His  first  school-master  was  Robin  Cowens,  who  kept  a  night-school. 
George  took  lessons  in  spelling  and  reading  three  nights  in  the  week, 
costing  threepence  a  week,  and  at  the  age  of  nineteen  he  was  proud 
to  be  able  to  write  his  own  name.  A  Scotch  dominie,  named 
Andrew  Robertson,  set  up  a  night-school  in  the  village  of  Newburn 
in  the  winter  of  1799.  George  accordingly  began  taking  lessons 
from  him,  paying  fourpence  a  week.  Robert  Gray  told  the  author 
that  George  "took  to  figures  wonderful."  George's  secret  was  his 
perseverance.  He  worked  out  the  sums  in  his  by-hours,  improving 
every  minute  of  his  spare  time  by  the  engine-fire.  In  the  evenings, 
he  took  to  Robertson  the  sums  which  he  had  "worked,"  and  new 
ones  were  "set  "  for  him  to  study  out  the  following  day.  Thus  his 
progress  was  rapid. 

George  still  found  time  to  attend  to  his  favorite  animals  while  work- 


HIS     PETS,     HIS     WAGES     AND     FAVORITE.  m 

ing ;  like  his  father,  he  used  to  tempt  the  robin -redbreasts  to  hop  and 
fly  about  him  at  the  engine-fire  by  the  bait  of  bread-crumbs  saved 
from  his  dinner.  But  his  chief  favorite  was  his  dog — so  sagacious 
that  he  almost  daily  carried  George's  dinner  to  him  at  the  pit.  The 
tin  containing  the  meal  was  suspended  from  the  dog's  neck,  and, 
thus  laden,  he  proceeded  faithfully  from  Jolly's  Close  to  Water-row 
Pit,  quite  through  the  village  of  Newburn.  He  turned  neither  to  left 
nor  right,  nor  heeded  the  barking  of  curs  at  his  heels.  But  his 
course  was  not  unattended  with  perils.  One  day  the  big,  strange  dog 
of  a  passing  butcher,  espying  the  engine-man's  messenger  with  the 
tin-can  about  his  neck,  ran  after  and  fell  upon  him.  There  was  a 
terrible  tussle  and  worrying,  which  lasted  for  a  brief  while,  and, 
shortly  after,  the  dog's  master,  anxious  for  his  dinner,  saw  his  faith- 
ful servant  approaching,  bleeding  but  triumphant.  The  tin-can  was 
still  round  his  neck,  but  the  dinner  had  been  spilled  in  the  struggle. 
Though  George  went  without  his  dinner  that  day,  he  was  prouder  of 
his  dog  than  ever  when  the  circumstances  of  the  combat  were  related 
to  him  by  the  villagers  who  had  seen  it. 

It  was  while  working  at  the  Water-row  Pit  that  Stephenson  learned 
the  art  of  braking  an  engine.  This  being  one  of  the  higher  depart- 
ments of  colliery  labor,  and  among  the  best  paid,  George  was  very 
anxious  to  learn  it. 

After  working  at  the  Water-row  Pit  and  at  other  engines  near  New- 
burn  for  about  three  years,  George  went  to  Black  Callerton  early  in 
1810.  Though  only  twenty  years  of  age,  his  employers  thought  so 
well  of  him  that  they  appointed  him  to  the  responsible  office  of 
brakeman  at  the  Dolly  Pit.  For  convenience'  sake,  he  took  lodgings 
at  a  small  farmer's  in  the  village,  finding  his  own  victuals,  and  pay- 
ing so  much  a  week  for  lodging  and  attendance.  In  the  locality 
this  was  called  "  picklin  in  his  awn  poke  neuk."  It  not  urffrequently 
happens  that  the  young  workman  about  the  collieries,  when  selecting 
a  lodging,  contrives  to  pitch  his  tent  where  the  daughter  of  the 
house  ultimately  becomes  his  wife.  This  is  often  the  real  attraction 
that  draws  the  youth  from  home,  though  a  very  different  one  may  be 
pretended.  The  monotony  of  George  Stephenson's  occupation  as  a 
brakeman  was  somewhat  varied  by  the  change  which  he  made,  in  his 
turn,  from  the  day  to  the  night  shift.  His  wages  while  working  at 
the  Dolly  Pit  amounted  to  from  i/.  15^.  to  2/.  in  the  fortnight ;  but 
he  gradually  added  to  them  as  he  became  more  expert  at  shoe-mend- 
ing, and  afterward  at  shoe-making. 

Probably  he  was  stimulated  to  take  in  hand  this  extra  work  by  the 
attachment  he  had  by  this  time  formed  for  a  young  woman  named 
Fanny  Henderson,  who  officiated  as  servant  in  the  small  farmer's 
house  in  which  he  lodged.  Her  temper  was  one  of  the  sweetest ; 
and  those  who  knew  her  were  accustomed  to  speak  of  the  charming 
modesty  of  her  demeanor,  her  kindness  of  disposition,  and,  withal, 
her  sound  good  sense. 


•_T2  GEORGE    STEPHENSON. 

Not  long  after  he  began  to  work  at  Black  Callerton,  he  had  a 
quarrel  with  Ned  Nelson,  a  roystering  bully,  who  was  the  terror  of 
the  village.  Stephenson  was  not  able  to  please  this  pitman  by  the 
way  in  which  he  drew  him  out  of  the  pit,  and  Nelson  swore  at  him 
grossly  because  of  the  clumsiness  of  his  braking.  George  defended 
himself,  and  Nelson,  after  giving  a  great  deal  of  abuse,  threatened  to 
kick  George,  and  ended  by  challenging  him  to  a  pitched  battle, 
when  a  day  was  fixed  on  which  the  fight  was  to  come  off.  Great  was 
the  excitement  at  Black  Callerton  when  it  was  known ;  all  wished 
that  he  might  beat  Nelson,  but  they  scarcely  dared  to  say  so.  They 
came  about  him  to  inquire  if  it  was  really  true  that  he  was  "  goin'  to 
fight  Nelson."  "Ay;  never  fear  for  me;  I'll  fight  him."  So  on 
the  evening  appointed,  after  George  had  done  his  day's  labor,  he 
went  into  the  Dolly  Pit  Field,  where  his  already  exulting  rival  was 
ready  to  meet  him.  George  stripped,  and  "went  in"  like  a  prac- 
ticed pugilist,  though  it  was  his  first  and  last  fight.  After  a  few 
rounds,  George's  wiry  muscles  and  practiced  strength  enabled  him 
severely  to  punish  his  adversary  and  to  secure  an  easy  victory. 

This  circumstance  is  related  in  illustration  of  Stephenson's  personal 
pluck  and  courage,  and  it  was  thoroughly  characteristic  of  the  man. 
He  was  no  pugilist,  and  the  reverse  of  quarrelsome.  But  he  would 
not  be  put  down  by  the  bully  of  the  colliery,  and  he  fought  him. 
There  his  pugilism  ended ;  they  afterward  shook  hands,  and  continued 
good  friends.  In  after  life  Stephenson's  mettle  was  often  as  hardly 
tried,  though  in  a  different  way,  and  he  did  not  fail  to  exhibit  the 
same  courage  in  contending  with  the  bullies  of  the  railway  world  as 
he  showed  in  his  encounter  with  Ned  Nelson,  the  fighting  pitman  of 
Callerton. 


ENGINE-MAN  AT  WILLINGTON  QUAY  AND   KILLINGWORTH. 

George  Stephenson  had  now  acquired  the  character  of  an  expert 
workman.  He  was  diligent  and  observant  while  at  work,  and  sober 
and  studious  when  the  day's  work  was  done.  On  pay-Saturday  after^ 
noons,  when  the  pit-men  held  their  fortnightly  holiday,  occupying 
themselves  chiefly  in  cock-fighting  and  dog-fighting  in  the  adjoining 
fields,  followed  by  adjournments  to  the  "yel-house,"  George  was 
accustomed  to  take  his  engine  to  pieces,  for  the  purpose  of  obtaining 
"insight,"  and  he  cleaned  all  the  parts,  and  put  the  machine  in 
thorough  working  order  before  leaving  her. 

After  working  at  Callerton  for  about  two  years,  Stephenson  re- 
ceived an  offer  to  take  charge  of  the  engine  on  Willington  Ballast 
Hill  at  advanced  wages.  He  determined  to  accept  it,  and  at  the 
same  time,  to  marry  Fanny  Henderson,  and  begin  house-keeping  on 
his  own  account.  Though  he  was  only  twenty-one  years  old,  he  had 
contrived,  by  thrift,  steadiness,  and  industry,  to  save  as  much  money 


HIS     INDUSTRY.  113 

as  enabled  him,  with  the  help  of  Fanny's  small  hoard,  to  take  a  cottage- 
dwelling  at  Willington  Quay,  and  furnish  it  in  a  humble  but  com- 
fortable style  for  the  reception  of  his  bride. 

When  the  cottage-dwelling  had  been  made  snug,  the  marriage  took 
place  in  Newburn  Church  on  the  28th  of  November,  1802.  George 
Stephenson's  signature,  as  it  stands  in  the  register,  is  that  of  a  person 
who  seems  to  have  just  learned  to  write. 

George  Stephenson  diligently  set  himself  to  study  the  principles  of 
mechanics,  and  to  master  the  laws  by  which  his  engine  worked.  For 
a  workman,  he  was,  even  at  that  time,  more  than  ordinarily  specula- 
tive, often  taking  up  strange  theories,  and  trying  to  sift  out  the  truth 
that  was  in  them.  While  sitting  by  the  side  of  his  young  wife  in  his  cot- 
tage-dwelling in  the  winter  evenings,  he  was  usually  occupied  in 
studying  mechanical  subjects,  or  in  modeling  experimental  machines. 

Among  his  various  speculations,  he  tried  to  discover  a  means  of 
Perpetual  Motion.  Although  he  failed,  as  so  many  others  had  done 
before  him,  the  very  efforts  he  made  tended  to  whet  his  inventive 
faculties,  and  to  call  forth  his  dormant  powers.  Where  he  had  first 
obtained  the  idea  of  this  machine — whether  from  conversation,  or 
reading,  or  his  own  thoughts,  is  not  known;  but  his  son  Robert  was 
of  opinion  that  he  had  heard  of  an  apparatus  of  this  kind,  as  described 
in  the  "History  of  Inventions." 

Much  of  his  spare  time  continued  to  be  occupied  by  labor  more 
immediately  profitable.  In  the  evenings,  he  would  occasionally  em- 
ploy himself  for  a  few  hours  in  casting  ballast  out  of  the  collier 
ships,  by  which  means  he  was  enabled  to  earn  a  few  shillings  weekly. 
Mr.  William  Fairbairn,  of  Manchester,  informed  the  writer  that, 
while  Stephenson  was  employed  at  the  Willington  Ballast  Hill,  he 
himself  was  working  in  the  neighborhood  as  an  engine  apprentice  at 
the  Percy  Main  Colliery.  He  was  very  fond  of  George,  who  was  a 
fine,  hearty  fellow,  besides  being  a  capital  workman.  In  the  summer 
evenings  young  Fairbairn  was  accustomed  to  go  down  to  Willington 
to  see  his  friend,  and  on  such  occasions  he  would  frequently  take 
charge  of  George's  engine  for  a  few  hours,  to  enable  him  to  take  a 
two  or  three  hours'  turn  at  heaving  ballast  out  of  the  ship's  holds. 
It  is  pleasant  to  think  of  the  future  President  of  the  British  Asso- 
ciation thus  helping  the  future  Railway  Engineer  to  earn  a  few  extra 
shillings  by  overwork  in  the  evenings,  at  a  time  when  both  occupied 
the  rank  but  of  humble  working  men  in  an  obscure  northern  village. 

Mr.  Fairbairn  was  also  a  frequent  visitor  at  George's  cottage  on  the 
Quay,  where,  though  there  was  no  luxury,  there  was  comfort,  cleanli- 
ness, and  a  pervading  spirit  of  industry.  Even  at  home  George  was 
never  for  a  moment  idle.  When  there  was  no  ballast  to  heave,  he 
took  in  shoes  to  mend;  and,  from  mending,  he  proceeded  to  making 
them,  as  well  as  shoe-lasts,  in  which  he  was  admitted  to  be  very  ex- 
pert. William  Coe,  who  continued  to  live  at  Willington  in  1851,  in- 
formed the  writer  that  he  bought  a  pair  of  shoes  from  George  Stephen- 
8 


114  GEORGE     STEPHENSON. 

son  for  "js.  6d.,  and  he  remembered  that  they  were  a  capital  fit,  and 
wore  very  well. 

But  an  accident  occurred  in  Stephenson's  household  about  this 
time,  which  had  the  effect  of  directing  his  industry  into  a  new  and 
still  more  profitable  channel.  The  cottage  chimney  took  fire  one  day 
in  his  absence,  when  the  alarmed  neighbors,  rushing  in,  threw  quan- 
tities of  water  upon  the  flames ;  and  some,  in  their  zeal,  even  mounted 
the  ridge  of  the  house,  and  poured  buckets  of  water  down  the  chim- 
ney. The  fire  was  soon  put  out,  but  the  house  was  thoroughly  soaked. 
When  George  came  home,  he  found  the  water  running  out  of  the 
door,  every  thing  in  disorder,  and  his  new  furniture  covered  with 
soot.  The  eight-day  clock,  which  hung  against  the  wall — one  of  the 
most  highly-prized  articles  in  the  house — was  seriously  damaged  by 
the  steam  with  which  the  room  had  been  filled.  Its  wheels  were  so 
clogged  by  the  dust  and  soot,  that  it  was  brought  to  a  complete 
stand-still. 

George  was  advised  to  send  the  article  to  the  clock-maker,  but 
that  would  cost  money;  and  he  declared  that  he  would  repair  it 
himself — at  least  he  would  try.  The  clock  was  accordingly  taken  to 
pieces  and  cleaned ;  the  tools  which  he  had  been  accumulating  for 
the  purpose  of  constructing  his  Perpetual  Motion  machine  readily 
enabled  him  to  do  this,  and  he  succeeded  so  well  that,  shortly  after, 
the  neighbors  sent  him  their  clocks  to  clean,  and  he  soon  became  one 
of  the  most  expert  clock-cleaners  in  the  neighborhood. 

It  was  while  living  at  Willington  Quay  that  George  Stephenson's 
only  son  was  born  on  the  i6th  of  October,  1803.  The  christening 
of  the  boy  took  place  at  Walsend. 

After  working  for  about  three  years  as  a  brakeman  at  the  Willing- 
ton  machine,  George  Stephenson  was  induced  to  leave  his  situa- 
tion for  a  similar  one  at  the  West  Moor  Colliery.  To  this  place 
Stephenson  first  came  as  a  brakeman  about  the  end  of  1804.  He 
had  not  been  long  in  his  new  home  ere  his  wife  died  of  consumption, 
leaving  him  with  his  only  child  Robert.  George  deeply  felt  the  loss, 
for  his  wife  and  he  had  been  very  happy  together.  Their  lot  had 
been  sweetened  by  daily  successful  toil. 

Shortly  after  this  event  he  received  an  invitation  from  some  gentle- 
man concerned  in  large  spinning-works  near  Montrose,  in  Scotland, 
to  proceed  thither  and  superintend  the  working  of  one  of  Boulton  and 
Watt's  engines.  Having  left  his  boy  in  charge  of  his  housekeeper,  he 
set  out  on  the  journey  to  Scotland,  on  foot,  with  his  kit  upon  his  back. 
At  Montrose  he  gave  proof  of  practical  ability  in  contrivance.  The 
water  required  for  the  purposes  of  his  engine,  as  well  as  for  the  use  of 
the  works,  was  pumped  from  a  considerable  depth.  The  pumps  fre- 
quently got  choked  by  the  sand  drawn  in  at  the  bottom  of  the  well.  The 
barrels  became  worn,  and  the  bucket  and  clack  leathers  destroyed,  so 
that  it  became  necessary  to  devise  a  remedy;  and  he  proceeded  to  adopt 
this  original  expedient.  He  had  a  wooden  box  or  boot  made,  twelve 


GOES     TO     SCOTLAND.  115 

feet  high,  which  he  placed  in  the  well,  and  into  this  he  inserted  the 
pump.  The  result  was  that  water  flowed  clear  over  into  the  boot, 
and  was  drawn  up  without  admixture  of  sand. 

During  his  stay  in  Scotland,  Stephenson  saved  28/.,  which  he  took 
back  with  him  to  Killingworth,  after  an  absence  of  about  a  year. 
Longing  to  get  back  to  his  kindred,  and  yearning  for  the  boy  whom 
he  left,  he  trudged  back  to  Killingworth  on  foot  as  he  had  gone. 
He  related  to  his  friend  Coe,  on  his  return,  that  when  on  the  borders 
of  Northumberland,  late  one  evening,  foot-sore  and  wearied  with  his 
long  day's  journey,  he  knocked  at  a  small  farmer's  cottage  door,  and 
requested  shelter  for  the  night.  It  was  refused ;  and  then  he  en- 
treated, being  sore,  tired,  and  unable  to  proceed  any  farther,  they 
would  permit  him  to  lie  down  in  the  out-house,  for  that  a  little  clean 
straw  would  serve  him.  The  farmer's  wife  •  appeared  at  the  door, 
looked  at  the  traveler,  then  retiring  with  her  husband,  the  two  con- 
fabulated a  little  apart,  and  finally  they  invited  Stephenson  into  the 
cottage.  Always  full  of  conversation  and  anecdote,  he  soon  made  him- 
self at  home  in  the  farmer's  family,  and  spent  with  them  some  pleas- 
ant hours.  He  was  hospitably  entertained  for  the  night,  and  when 
he  left  the  cottage  in  the  morning,  he  pressed  them  to  make  some 
charge  for  his  lodging,  but  they  refused  to  accept  any  recompense. 
They  only  asked  him  to  remember  them  kindly,  and  if  he  ever  came 
that  way,  to  be  sure  and  call  again.  Many  years  after,  when  Ste- 
phenson had  become  a  thriving  man,  he  did  not  forget  the  humble 
pair  who  had  thus  succored  and  entertained  him  on  his  way;  he 
sought  their  cottage  again,  when  age  had  silvered  their  hair ;  and 
when  he  left  the  aged  couple  on  that  occasion,  they  may  have  been 
reminded  of  the  old  saying,  that  we  may  sometimes  "entertain  angels 
unawares. ' ' 

Reaching  home,  Stephenson  found  that  his  father  had  met  with  a 
serious  accident  at  Blucher  Pit,  which  had  reduced  him  to  great  dis- 
tress and  poverty ;  his  eye-sight  was  irretrievably  lost.  The  helpless 
and  infirm  man  had  struggled  for  a  time  with  poverty ;  his  sons  who 
were  at  home,  poor  as  himself,  were  little  able  to  help  him,  while 
George  was  at  a  distance  in  Scotland.  On  his  return,  however,  with 
his  savings  in  his  pocket,  his  first  step  was  to  pay  off  his  father's 
debts,  amounting  to  about  is/./  and,  shortly  after,  he  removed  the 
aged  pair  to  a  comfortable  cottage,  where  the  old  man  lived  for 
many  years  supported  by  his  son. 

Stephenson  does  not  seem  to  have  been  very  hopeful  as  to  his  pros- 
pects in  life  at  the  time.  Indeed,  the  condition  of  the  working 
classes  was  then  very  discouraging.  England  was  engaged  in  a  great 
war,  which  pressed  upon  the  industry,  and  severely  tried  the  resources 
of  the  country.  There  was  a  constant  demand  for  men  to  fill  the 
drmy,  navy,  and  militia.  Never  before  had  England  witnessed  such 
drumming  and  fifing  for  recruits. 

George   Stephenson  was  one  of  those  drawn   for  the  militia.     He 


Il6  GEORGE     STEPHENSON. 

must  therefore  either  quit  his  work  and  go  a-soldiering,  or  find  a 
substitute.  He  adopted  the  latter  course,  and  borrowed  6/.,  which, 
with  the  remainder  of  his  savings,  enabled  him  to  provide  a  militia- 
man to  serve  in  his  stead.  Thus  the  whole  of  his  hard-won  earnings 
were  swept  away  at  a  stroke.  He  was  almost  in  despair,  and  contem- 
plated the  idea  of  leaving  the  country,  and  emigrating  to  the  United 
States.  His  sister  Ann,  with  her  husband,  emigrated  about  that  time, 
but  George  could  not  raise  the  requisite  money.  His  poverty  rooted 
him  to  the  place  where  he  afterward  worked  out  his  career  so  man- 
fully and  victoriously. 

In  1808  Stephenson,  with  two  other  brakemen,  took  a  small  con- 
tract under  the  colliery  lessees,  braking  the  engines  at  the  West 
Moor  Pit.  George  found  that  the  ropes  which,  at  other  pits  in  the 
neighborhood,  lasted  about  three  months,  at  the  West  Moor  Pit  be- 
came worn  out  in  about  a  month.  He  set  himself  to  ascertain  the 
cause ;  and,  finding  it  was  occasioned  by  excessive  friction,  he  shifted 
the  pulley-wheels  so  that  they  worked  immediately  over  the  center  of 
the  pit.  By  an  entire  re-arrangement  of  the  gearing  of  the  machine, 
he  succeeded  in  greatly  lessening  the  wear  and  tear  of  the  ropes,  to 
the  advantage  of  the  owners  as  well  as  the  workmen. 

"  In  the  year  1810  an  atmospheric  or  Newcomen  engine,  originally 
made  by  Smeaton,  was  fixed  at  a  new  pit  for  the  purpose  of  pump- 
ing out  the  water ;  but,  somehow,  the  engine  failed  to  clear  the  pit. 
The  engine  had  been  fruitlessly  pumping  for  nearly  twelve  months, 
and  came  to  be  regarded  as  a  total  failure.  Stephenson  had  gone  to 
look  at  it  when  in  course  of  erection,  and  then  observed  to  the  over- 
man that  he  thought  it  was  defective ;  he  also  gave  it  as  his  opinion 
that  if  there  were  much  water  in  the  mine,  the  engine  could  never 
keep  it  under.  Of  course,  as  he  was  only  a  brakeman,  his  opinion 
was  considered  to  be  worth  very  little  on  such  a  point.  He  continued, 
however,  to  make  frequent  visits  to  the  engine  to  see  "  how  she  was 
getting  on."  From  the  bank-head  where  he  worked  his  brake  he 
could  see  the  chimney  smoking  at  the  High  Pit ;  and,  as  the  work- 
men were  passing  to  and  from  their  work,  he  would  call  and  inquire 
"  if  they  had  gotten  to  the  bottom  yet."  And  the  reply  was  always  to 
the  same  effect — the  pumping  made  no  progress,  and  the  workmen 
were  still  "drowned  out." 

One  Saturday  afternoon  he  went  over  to  the  High  Pit  to  examine 
the  engine  more  carefully  than  he  had  yet  done.  He  had  been  turn- 
ing the  subject  over  in  his  mind,  and,  after  a  long  examination,  he 
seemed  to  have  satisfied  himself  as  to  the  cause  of  the  failure.  Kit 
Heppel,  one  of  the  sinkers,  asked  him,  "Weel,  George,  what  do  you 
mak'  o'  her?  Do  you  think  you  could  do  any  thing  to  improve  her?" 
"Man,"  said  George,  in  reply,  "I  could  alter  her  and  make  her 
draw;  in  a  week's  time  from  this  I  could  send  you  to  the  bottom." 

Heppel  at  once  reported  this  conversation  to  Ralph  Dodds,  the 
head  viewer,  who,  being  now  quite  in  despair,  and  hopeless  of  sue- 


HIS     SUCCESS     AT    THE     HIGH     PIT.  117 

ceeding  with  the  engine,  determined  to  give  George's  skill  a  trial. 
George  had  already  acquired  the  character  of  a  very  clever  and 
ingenious  workman,  and,  at  the  worst,  he  could  only  fail,  as  the  rest 
had  done. 

In  the  evening  Dodds  went  in  search  of  Stephenson,  and  met  him 
on  the  road,  dressed  in  his  Sunday's  suit,  on  his  way  to  "the 
preaching"  in  the  Methodist  Chapel,  which  he  at  that  time  attended. 
"Well,  George,"  said  Dodds,  "they  tell  me  that  you  think  you  can 
put  the  engine  at  the  High  Pit  to  rights."  "Yes,  sir,"  said  George, 
"I  think  I  could."  "If  that's  the  case,  I'll  give  you  a  fair  trial, 
and  you  must  set  to  work  immediately.  We  are  clean  drowned  out, 
and  can  not  get  a  step  farther.  The  engineers  hereabouts  are  all  bet ; 
and  if  you  really  succeed  in  accomplishing  what  they  can  not  do, 
you  may  depend  upon  it  I  will  make  you  a  man  for  life." 

Stephenson  began  his  operations  early  next  morning.  The  only 
condition  that  he  made,  before  setting  to  work,  was  that  he  should 
select  his  own  workmen.  There  was,  as  he  knew,  a  good  deal  of  jeal- 
ousy am^ng  the  "regular"  men  that  a  colliery brakeman  should  pre- 
tend to  know  more  about  their  engine  than  they  themselves  did,  and 
attempt  to  remedy  defects  which  the  most  skilled  men  of  their  craft, 
including  the  engineer  of  the  colliery,  had  failed  to  do.  But  George 
made  the  condition  a  sine  qua  non.  "The  workmen,"  said  he,  "must 
either  be  all  Whigs  or  all  Tories."  There  was  no  help  for  it,  so  Dodds 
ordered  the  old  hands  to  stand  aside.  The  men  grumbled,  but  gave 
way;  and  then  George  and  his  party  went  in. 

The  engine  was  taken  entirely  to  pieces.  The  cistern  containing 
the  injection  water  was  raised  ten  feet ;  the  injection  cock,  being  too 
small,  was  enlarged  to  nearly  double  its  former  size,  and  it  was  so  ar- 
ranged that  it  should  be  shut  off  quickly  at  the  beginning  of  the  stroke. 
These  and  other  alterations  were  necessarily  performed  in  a  rough 
way,  but,  as  the  result  proved,  on  true  principles.  Stephenson  also, 
finding  that  the  boiler  would  bear  a  greater  pressure  than  five  pounds 
to  the  inch,  determined  to  work  it  at  a  pressure  of  ten  pounds, 
though  this  was  contrary  to  the  directions  of  both  Newcomen  and 
Smeaton. 

The  necessary  alterations  were  made  in  about  three  days,  and  many 
persons  came  to  see  the  engine  start,  including  the  men  who  had  put 
her  up.  The  pit  being  nearly  full  of  water,  she  had  little  to  do  on 
starting,  and,  to  use  George's  words,  "came  bounce  into  the  house." 
Dodds  exclaimed,  "  Why,  she  was  better  as  she  was ;  now  she  will 
knock  the  house  down."  After  a  short  time,  however,  the  engine 
got  fairly  to  work,  and  by  ten  o'clock  that  night  the  water  was  lower 
in  the  pit  than  it  had  ever  been  before.  The  engine  was  kept  pump- 
ing all  Thursday,  and  by  the  Friday  afternoon  the  pit  was  cleared  of 
water,  and  the  workmen  were  "sent  to  the  bottom,"  as  Stephenson 
had  promised.  Thus  the  alterations  effected  in  the  pumping  appara- 
tus proved  completely  successful. 


Il8  GEORGE     STEPHENSON. 

Mr.  Dodds  was  particularly  gratified  with  the  manner  in  which  the 
job  had  been  done,  and  he  made  Stephenson  a  present  of  ten  pounds, 
which,  though  very  inadequate  when  compared  with  the  value  of  the 
work  performed,  was  accepted  with  gratitude.  George  was  proud  of 
the  gift  as  the  first  marked  recognition  of  his  skill  as  a  workman  ; 
and  he  used  afterward  to  say  that  it  was  the  biggest  sum  of  money 
he  had,  up  to  that  time,  earned  in  one  lump.  Ralph  Dodds,  how- 
ever, did  more  than  this ;  he  released  the  brakeman  from  the  handles 
of  his  engine  at  West  Moor,  and  appointed  him  engine-man  at  the 
High  Pit,  at  good  wages,  during  the  time  the  pit  was  sinking — the 
job  lasting  for  about  a  year;  and  he  also  kept  him  in  mind  for  far- 
ther advancement. 

Stephenson's  skill  as  an  engine-doctor  soon  became  noised  abroad, 
and  he  was  called  upon  to  prescribe  remedies  for  all  the  old, 
wheezy,  and  ineffective  pumping-machines  in  the  neighborhood.  In 
this  capacity  he  soon  left  the  "  regular"  men  far  behind,  though  they, 
in  their  turn,  were  very  much  disposed  to  treat  the  Killingworth 
brakeman  as  no  better  than  a  quack.  Nevertheless,  his  prd^atice  was 
really  founded  upon  a  close  study  of  the  principles  of  mechanics,  and 
on  an  intimate  practical  acquaintance  with  the  details  of  the  pump- 
ing engine. 

Another  of  his  smaller  achievements  in  the  same  line  is  still  told 
by  the  people  of  the  district.  At  the  corner  of  the  road  leading  to 
Long  Benton  there  was  a  quarry  from  which  a  peculiar  and  scarce 
kind  of  ochre  was  taken.  In  the  course  of  working  it  out,  the  water 
had  collected  in  considerable  quantities ;  and  there  being  no  means 
of  draining  it  off,  it  accumulated  to  such  an  extent  that  the  farther 
working  of  the  ochre  was  almost  entirely  stopped.  Ordinary  pumps 
were  tried,  and  failed ;  and  then  a  windmill  was  tried,  and  failed  too. 
On  this,  George  was  asked  what  ought  to  be  done  to  clear  the  quarry 
of  the  water.  He  said  "he  would  set  up  for  them  an  engine,  little 
bigger  than  a  kail-pot,  that  would  clear  them  out  in  a  week."  And 
he  did  so.  A  little  engine  was  speedily  erected,  by  means  of  which 
the  quarry  was  pumped  dry  in  the  course  of  a  few  days.  Thus  his 
skill  as  a  pump-doctor  soon  became  the  marvel  of  the  district. 

In  elastic  muscular  vigor  Stephenson  was  now  in  his  prime,  and  he 
still  continued  zealous  in  measuring  his  strength  and  agility  with  his 
fellow-workmen.  The  competitive  element  in  his  nature  was  always 
strong,  and  his  success  in  these  feats  of  rivalry  was  certainly  remark- 
able. Few,  if  any,  could  lift  such  weights,  throw  the  hammer,  and 
put  the  stone  so  far,  or  cover  so  great  a  space  at  a  standing  or  running 
leap.  One  day,  between  the  engine  hour  and  the  rope-rolling  hour, 
Kit  Heppel  challenged  him  to  leap  from  one  high  wall  to  another, 
with  a  deep  gap  between.  To  Heppel's  surprise  and  dismay,  George 
took  the  standing  leap,  and  cleared  the  eleven  feet  at  a  bound.  Had 
his  eye  been  less  accurate,  or  his  limbs  less  agile  and  sure,  the  feat 
must  have  cost  him  his  life. 


THE. GRAND     ALLIES.  1 19 

But  so  full  of  redundant  muscular  vigor  was  he,  that  leaping,  put- 
ting, or  throwing  the  hammer,  were  not  enough  for  him.  He  was 
also  ambitious  of  riding  on  horseback ;  afid,  as  he  had  not  yet  been 
promoted  to  an  office  enabling  him  to  keep  a  horse  of  his  own,  he 
sometimes  borrowed  one  of  the  gin-horses  for  a  ride.  On  one  of  these 
occasions  he  brought  the  animal  back  reeking,  when  Tom  Mitcheson, 
the  bank  horse-keeper,  a  rough-spoken  fellow,  exclaimed  to  him,  "Set 
such  fellows  as  you  on  horseback,  and  you'll  soon  ride  to  the  De'il." 
But  Tommy  Mitcheson  lived  to  tell  the  story,  and  to  confess  that, 
after  all,  there  had  been  a  better  issue  of  George's  h6rsemanship  than 
what  he  had  predicted. 

Old  Cree,  the  engine-wright  at  Killingworth  High  Pit,  having  been 
killed  by  an  accident,  George  Stephenson  was,  in  1812,  appointed 
engine-wright  of  the  colliery  at  the  salary  of  £100  a  year.  He  was 
also  allowed  the  use  of  a  galloway  to  ride  upon  in  his  visits  of  in- 
spection to  the  collieries  leased  by  the  "Grand  Allies"  in  that 
neighborhood. 

The  "Grand  Allies"  were  a  company  of  gentlemen,  consisting  of 
Sir  Thomas  Liddell  (afterward  Lord  Ravensworth),  the  Earl  of  Strath- 
more,  and  Mr.  Stuart  Wortley  (afterward  Lord  Wharncliffe),  the 
lessees  of  the  Killingworth  collieries.  Having  been  informed  of  the 
merits  of  Stephenson,  of  his  indefatigable  industry,  and  the  skill 
which  he  had  displayed  in  the  repairs  of  the  Dumping-engines,  they 
readily  acceeded  to  Mr.  Dodds'  recommendation  that  he  should  be 
appointed  the  colliery  engine-wright ;  and,  as  we  shall  afterward  find, 
they  continued  to  honor  him  by  distinguished  marks  of  their  ap- 
proval. 


THE   STEPHENSONS   AT   KILLINGWORTH — EDUCATION    AND    SELF- 
EDUCATION    OF   FATHER   AND    SON. 

George  Stephenson  had  been  diligently  employed  for  several 
years  in  self-improvement,  and  experienced  the  usual  results  in  in- 
creasing mental  strength,  capability,  and  skill.  Every  man's  best 
success  is  found  in  the  alacrity  and  industry  with  which  he  takes 
advantage  of  opportunities  which  present  themselves  for  well-doing. 
He  was  an  eminent  illustration  of  the  importance  of  cultivating  this 
habit  of  life.  Every  spare  moment  was  laid  under  contribution  to 
add  to  his  earnings  or  his  knowledge.  He  missed  no  opportunity 
of  observation  in  his  own  department. 

He  continued  his  attempts  to  solve  the  mystery  of  Perpetual 
Motion,  and  contrived  several  model  machines  with  the  object  of 
embodying  his  ideas  in  a  practical  working  shape.  He  afterward 
lamented  the  time  lost  in  these  futile  efforts,  and  said  if  he  had  en- 
joyed the  opportunities  of  learning  from  books  what  previous  experi- 
menters had  done,  he  would  have  been  spared  much  labor  and  mor- 


120  GEORGE     STEPHENSON. 

tification.  Not  knowing,  he  groped  his  way  by  his  own  independent 
thinking  and  observation,  when,  lo  !  he  found  that  his  supposed 
invention  had  long  been  known.  Often  he  hit  upon  discoveries 
which  were  but  old  and  exploded  fallacies.  Yet  his  very  struggle 
was  of  itself  an  education  of  the  best  sort.  By  wrestling  with  them, 
he  strengthened  his  judgment,  and  sharpened  his  skill  and  mechanical 
ingenuity.  Being  very  much  in  earnest,  he  was  compelled  to  con- 
sider the  subject  of  his  special  inquiry  in  all  its  relations,  and  thus 
he  gradually  acquired  practical  ability  through  his  very  efforts  after 
the  impracticable. 

Many  of  his  evenings  were  spent  in  the  society  of  John  Wigham. 
Under  Andrew  Robertson  he  had  never  quite  mastered  the  Rule  of 
Three,  and  it  was  only  with  Wigham  that  he  made  progress  in  the 
higher  branches  of  arithmetic.  John  Wigham  was  of  great  use  to 
his  pupil  in  many  ways.  He  was  a  good  talker,  fond  of  argument, 
an  extensive  reader,  as  country  reading  went  in  those  days,  and  a 
very  suggestive  thinker.  He  taught  him  to  draw  plans  and  sections. 
One  who  remembers  their  evening  occupation,  says  he  "used  to  won- 
der what  they  meant  by  weighing  the  air  and  water  in  so  odd  a 
way."  They  were  trying  the  specific  gravities  of  objects;  and  the 
devices  which  they  employed,  the  mechanical  shifts  to  which  they 
were  put,  were  often  of  the  rudest  kind.  In  these  evening  enter- 
tainments the  mechanical  contrivances  were  supplied  by  Stephenson, 
while  Wigham  found  the  scientific  rationale.  The  opportunity  thus 
afforded  to  the  former  of  cultivating  his  mind  by  contact  with  one 
wiser  than  himself  proved  of  great  value,  and  in  after  life  Stephenson 
gratefully  remembered  the  assistance  which,  when  a  humble  workman, 
he  had  received  from  John  Wigham,  the  farmer's  son. 

His  leisure  moments  thus  carefully  improved,  it  will  be  inferred 
that  Stephenson  continued  a  sober  man.  Though  his  notions  were 
never  extreme  on  this  point,  he  was  systematically,  temperate.  It 
appears  that  on  the  invitation  of  his  master,  Ralph  Dodds, — and  an 
invitation  from  a  master  to  a  workman  is  not  easy  to  resist, — he  had, 
on  one  or  two  occasions,  been  induced  to  join  him  in  a  forenoon 
glass  of  ale  in  the  public-house  of  the  village.  But  one  day,  about 
noon,  when  Mr.  Dodds  had  got  him  as  far  as  the  public-house  door, 
on  his  invitation  to  "  come  in  and  take  a  glass  o'  yel,"  Stephenson 
made  a  dead  stop,  and  said,  firmly,  "  No,  sir,  you  must  excuse  me; 
I  have  made  a  resolution  to  drink  no  more  at  this  time  of  day." 
And  he  went  back.  He  desired  to  retain  the  character  of  a  steady 
workman  ;  and  the  instances  of  men  about  him  who  had  made  ship- 
wreck of  their  character  through  intemperance  were  then,  as  now, 
unhappily  too  frequent. 

But  another  consideration  besides  his  own  self-improvement  had 
already  begun  to  exercise  an  important  influence  upon  his  life.  This 
was  the  training  and  education  of  his  son  Robert,  now  growing  up 
an  active,  intelligent  boy,  as  full  of  fun  and  tricks  as  his  father  had 


MAINTAINS      HIS      PARENTS.  121 

been.  When  a  little  fellow,  scarce  big  enough  to  reach  so  high  as  to 
put  a  clock-head  on  when  placed  upon  the  table,  his  father  would 
make  him  mount  a  chair  for  the  purpose  ;  and  to  "help  father"  was 
the  proudest  work  which  the  boy  then,  and  ever  after,  could  take 
part  in.  When  the  little  engine  was  set  up  at  the  Ochre  Quarry  to 
pump  it  dry,  Robert  was  scarcely  absent  for  an  hour.  He  watched 
the  machine  very  eagerly  when  it  was  set  to  work,  and  he  was  very 
much  annoyed  at  the  fire  burning  away  the  grates.  The  man  who 
fired  the  engine  jvas  a  sort  of  wag,  and  thinking  to  get  a  laugh  at 
the  boy,  he  said,  "  Those  bars  are  getting  varra  bad,  Robert ;  I  think 
we  maun  cut  up  some  of  that  hard  wood,  and  put  it  in  instead." 
"  What  would  be  the  use  of  that,  you  fool?"  said  the  boy,  quickly. 
"  You  would  no  sooner  have  put  them  in  than  they  would  be  burnt 
out  again." 

So  soon  as  Robert  was  of  a  proper  age,  his  father  sent  him  over  to 
the  road-side  school  at  Long  Benton  ;  but  the  education  was  of  a 
very  limited  kind,  scarcely  extending  beyond  the  primer  and  pot- 
hooks. 

George  was  still  maintaining  his  infirm  parents,  and  the  cost  of 
living  continued  excessive.  But  he  fell  back,  as  before,  upon  his  old 
expedient  of  working  up  his  spare  time  in  the  evenings  at  home,  or 
during  the  night  shifts  when  it  was  his  turn  to  tend  the  engine,  in 
mending  and  making  shoes,  cleaning  clocks  and  watches,  making 
shoe-lasts  for  the  shoemakers  of  the  neighborhood,  and  cutting  out 
the  pitmen's  clothes  for  their  wives  ;  and  we  have  been  told  that  to 
this  day  there  are  clothes  worn  at  Killingworth  rriade  after  "  Geordie 
Steevie's  cut."  To  give  his  own  words:  "  In  the  earlier  period  of 
my  career,"  said  he,  "  when  Robert  was  a  little  boy,  I  saw  how  defi- 
cient I  was  in  education,  and  I  made  up  my  mind  that  he  should  not 
labor  under  the  same  defect,  but  that  I  would  put  him  to  a  good 
school,  and  give  him  a  liberal  training.  I  was,  however,  a  poor  man; 
and  how  do  you  think  I  managed  ?  I  betook  myself  to  mending  my 
neighbors'  clocks  and  watches  at  nights,  after  my  daily  labor  was  done, 
and  thus  I  procured  the  means  of  educating  my  son." 

By  dint  of  such  extra  labor  in  his  by-hours,  with  this  object, 
Stephenson  contrived  to  save  a  sum  of  ioo/.,  which  he  accumulated  in 
guineas,  each  of  which  he  afterward  sold  to  Jews,  who  went  about  buying 
up  gold  coins  (then  dearer  than  silver),  at  twenty-six  shillings  apiece; 
and  he  lent  out  the  proceeds  at  interest.  He  was  now,  therefore,  a 
comparatively  thriving  man.  When  he  was  appointed  engine-wright 
of  the  colliery,  Robert  was  sent  to  Mr.  Bruce's  school  in  Percy  Street, 
Newcastle,  at  mid-summer,  1815,  when  he  was  about  twelve  years  old. 
His  father  bought  for  him  a  donkey,  on  which  he  rode  into  Newcastle 
and  back  daily. 

During  the  time  Robert  attended  school  at  Newcastle,  his  father 
made  the  boy's  education  instrumental  to  his  own.  Robert  was  ac- 
customed to  spend  some  of  his  spare  time  at  the  rooms  of  the  Literary 


122  GEORGE     STEPHENSON. 

and  Philosophical  Institute,  and  when  he  went  home  in  the  evening 
he  would  recount  to  his  father  the  results  of  his  reading.  Sometimes 
he  was  allowed  to  take  with  him  to  Killingworth  a  volume  of  the 
"  Repertory  of  Arts  and  Sciences,"  which  father  and  son  studied  to- 
gether. But  many  of  the  most  valuable  works  belonging  to  the  New- 
castle Library  were  not  permitted  to  be  removed  from  the  rooms ; 
these  Robert  was  instructed  to  read  and  study,  and  bring  away  with 
him  descriptions  and  sketches  for  his  father's  information.  His 
father  also  practiced  him  in  the  reading  of  plans  and  drawings,  with- 
out at  all  referring  to  the  written  descriptions.  He  used  to  observe 
to  his  son,  "A  good  drawing  or  plan  should  always  explain  itself;" 
and,  placing  a  drawing  of  an  engine  or  machine  before  the  youth,  he 
would  say,  "  There,  now,  describe  that  to  me — the  arrangement  and 
the  action?"  Thus  he  taught  him  to  read  a  drawing  as  easily  as  he 
would  read  a  page  of  a  book.  Both  father  and  son  profited  by  this 
excellent  practice,  which  shortly  enabled  them  to  apprehend  with  the 
greatest  facility  the  details  of  even  the  most  difficult  and  complicated 
mechanical  drawing. 

While  Robert  went  on  with  his  lessons  in  the  evenings,  his  father 
was  usually  occupied  with  his  watch  and  clock  cleaning,  or  contriving 
models  of  pumping-engines,  or  endeavoring  to  embody  in  a  tangible 
shape  the  mechanical  inventions  which  he  found  described  in  the  odd 
volumes  on  Mechanics  which  fell  in  his  way.  This  daily  and  unceas- 
ing example  of  industry  and  application,  working  on  before  the  boy's 
eyes  in  the  person  of  a  loving  and  beloved  father,  imprinted  itself 
deeply  upon  his  mind  in  characters  never  to  be  effaced.  A  spirit  of 
self-improvement  was  thus  early  and  carefully  planted  and  fostered  in 
him,  which  continued  to  influence  his  character  through  life;  and 
toward  the  close  of  his  career  he  was  proud  to  confess  that  if  his  pro- 
fessional success  had  been  great,  it  was  mainly  to  the  example  and 
training  of  his  father  that  he  owed  it. 

Robert  was  not,  however,  exclusively  devoted  to  study,  but,  like 
most  boys,  full  of  animal  spirits ;  he  was  very  fond  of  fun  and  play, 
and  sometimes  of  mischief.  Robert,  like  his  father,  was  very  fond 
of  reducing  his  scientific  reading  to  practice  ;  and  after  studying 
Franklin's  description  of  the  lightning  experiment,  he  proceeded  to 
expend  his  store  of  Saturday  pennies  in  purchasing  about  half  a  mile 
of  copper  wire  at  a  brazier's  shop  in  Newcastle.  Having  prepared 
his  kite,  he  set  it  up  in  the  field  opposite  his  father's  door,  and  bring- 
ing the  wire,  insulated  by  means  of  a  few  feet  of  silk  cord,  over  the 
backs  of  some  of  Farmer  Wigham's  cows,  he  soon  had  them  skipping 
about  the  field  in  all  directions  with  their  tails  up.  One  day  he  had 
his  kite  flying  at  the  cottage  door  as  his  father's  galloway  was  hanging 
by  the  bridle  to  the  paling,  waiting  for  the  master  to  mount.  Bring- 
ing the  end  of  the  wire  just  over  the  pony's  crupper,  so  smart  an 
electric  shock  was  given  it  that  the  brute  was  almost  knocked  down. 
At  this  juncture  his  father  issued  from  the  house,  riding-whip  in 


GROWER    OF    HUGE    VEGETABLES.  123 

hand,  and  was  witness  to  the  scientific  trick  just  played  off  upon  his 
galloway.  "Ah!  you  mischievous  second rel !"  cried  he  to  the  boy, 
who  ran  off,  himself  inwardly  chuckling  with  pride,  nevertheless,  at 
Robert's  successful  experiment. 

At  this  time,  and  for  many  years  after,  Stephenson  dwelt  in  a  cot- 
tage standing  by  the  side  of  the  road  leading  from  the  West  Moor 
Pit  to  Killingworth. 

There  was  a  little  garden  attached  to  the  cottage,  in  which,  while 
a  workman,  Stephenson  took  a  pride  in  growing  gigantic  leeks  and 
astonishing  cabbages.  There  was  great  competition  in  the  growing 
of  vegetables  among  the  villagers,  all  of  whom  he  excelled  excepting 
one,  whose  cabbages  sometimes  outshone  his.  To  protect  his  garden- 
crops  from  the  ravages  of  the  birds,  he  invented  a  strange  sort  of 
"fley-craw,"  which  moved  its  arms  with  the  wind;  and  he  fastened 
his  garden  door  by  means  of  a  piece  of  ingenious  mechanism,  so  that 
no  one  but  himself  could  enter  it.  His  cottage  was  quite  a  curiosity- 
shop  of  models  of  engines,  self-acting  planes,  and  perpetual-motion 
machines. 

He  also  contrived  a  wonderful  lamp  which  burned  under  water, 
with  which  he  was  afterward  wont  to  amuse  the  Brandling  family  at 
Gosforth — going  into  the  fish-pond  at  night,  lamp  in  hand,  attracting 
and  catching  the  fish,  which  rushed  wildly  toward  the  flame. 

Dr.  Bruce  tells  of  a  competition  which  Stephenson  had  with  the 
joiner  at  Killingworth  as  to  which  of  them  could  make  the  best 
shoe-last ;  and  when  the  former  had  done  his  work,  either  for  the 
humor  of  the  thing  or  to  secure  fair  play  from  the  appointed  judge, 
he  took  it  to  the  Morrisons  in  Newcastle,  and  got  them  to  put 
their  stamp  upon  it ;  so  that  it  is  possible  the  Killingworth  brake- 
man,  afterward  the  inventor  of  a  safety-lamp  and  originator  of  the 
locomotive  railway  system,  and  John  Morrison,  the  last-maker,  after- 
ward the  translator  of  the  Scriptures  into  the  Chinese  language, 
may  have  confronted  each  other  in  solemn  contemplation  of  the  suc- 
cessful last,  which  won  the  verdict  coveted  by  its  maker. 

Sometimes  George  would  endeavor  to  impart  to  his  fellow-workmen 
the  results  of  his  scientific  reading.  Every  thing  that  he  learned 
from  books  was  so  new  and  so  wonderful  to  him,  that  he  regarded 
the  facts  he  drew  from  them  in  the  light  of  discoveries,  as  if  they 
had  been  made  but  yesterday.  Once  he  tried  to  explain  to  some  of 
the  pitmen  how  the  earth  was  round,  and  kept  turning  round.  But 
his  auditors  flatly  declared  the  thing  to  be  impossible,  as  it  was  clear 
that  "at  the  bottom  side  they  must  fall  off!"  "Ah  !  "  said  George, 
"you  don't  quite  understand  it  yet."  His  son  Robert  also  early 
endeavored  to  communicate  to  others  the  information  which  he  had 
gathered  at  school ;  and  Dr.  Bruce  relates  that,  when  visiting  Kill- 
ingworth on  one  occasion,  he  found  him  engaged  in  teaching  algebra 
to  such  of  the  pitmen's  boys  as  would  become  his  pupils. 

While  Robert  was  still  at  school,  his  father  proposed  to  him  during 


124  GEORGE     STEPHENSON. 

the  holidays  that  he  should  construct  a  sun-dial,  to  be  placed  over 
their  cottage  door  at  West  Moor.  "I  expostulated  with  him  at  first," 
said  Robert,  "  that  I  had  not  learned  sufficient  astronomy  and  math- 
ematics to  enable  me  to  make  the  necessary  calculations.  But  he 
would  have  no  denial.  'The  thing  is  to  be  done,'  said  he,  'so  just 
set  about  it  at  once."  Well,  we  got  a  'Ferguson's  Astronomy,"  and 
studied  the  subject  together.  Many  a  sore  head  I  had  while  making 
the  necessary  calculations  to  adapt  the  dial  to  the  latitude  of  Killing- 
worth.  But  at  length  it  was  fairly  drawn  out  on  paper,  and  then  my 
father  got  a  stone,  and  we  hewed,  and  carved,  and  polished  it,  until 
we  made  a  very  respectable  dial  of  it;  and  there  it  is,  you  see," 
pointing  to  it  over  the  cottage  door,  "still  quietly  numbering  the 
hours  when  the  sun  shines.  I  assure  you,  not  a  little  was  thought  of 
that  piece  of  work  by  the  pitmen,  when  it  was  put  up  and  began  to 
tell  its  tale  of  time."  The  date  carved  upon  the  dial  is  "August 
nth,  MDCCCXVI."  Both  father  and  son  were,  in  after-life,  very  proud 
of  their  joint  production.  Many  years  after,  George  took  a  party  of 
savans,  when  attending  the  meeting  of  the  British  Association  at 
Newcastle,  over  to  Killingworth,  to  see  the  pits,  and  he  did  not  fail 
to  direct  their  attention  to  the  sun-dial;  and  Robert,  on  the  last  visit 
which  he  made  to  the  place,  a  short  time  before  his  death,  took  a 
friend  into  the  cottage,  and  pointed  out  to  him  the  very  desk,  still 
there,  at  which  he  had  sat  when  making  his  calculations  of  the  lati- 
tude of  Killingworth. 

From  the  time  of  his  appointment  as  engineer  at  the  Killingworth 
Pit,  George  Stephenson  was  relieved  from  the  daily  routine  of  manual 
labor,  having  advanced  himself  to  the  grade  of  a  higher-class  work- 
man. Among  other  works  of  this  time,  he  projected  and  laid  down  a 
self-acting  incline  along  the  declivity  which  fell  toward  the  coal- 
loading  place  near  Wellington,  where  he  had  formerly  officiated  as 
brakeman ;  and  so  arranged  it  that  the  full  wagons,  descending, 
drew  the  empty  wagons  up  the  railroad.  This  was  one  of  the  first 
self-acting  inclines  laid  down  in  the  district. 

The  following  is  Stephenson's  own  account  of  his  various  duties 
and  labors  at  this  period  of  his  life,  as  given  before  a  Committee  of 
the  House  of  Commons  in  1835  :* 

"After  making  some  improvements  in  the  steam-engines  above 
ground,  I  was  requested  by  the  manager  of  the  colliery  to  go  under- 
ground along  with  him,  to  see  if  any  improvements  could  be  made 
in  the  mines  by  employing  machinery  as  a  substitute  for  manual  labor 
and  horse-power,  in  bringing  the  coals  out  of  the  deeper  workings  of 
the  mine.  On  my  first  going  down  the  Killingworth  pit,  there  was  a 
steam-engine  underground  for  the  purpose  of  drawing  water  from  a 
pit  that  was  sunk  at  some  distance  from  the  first  shaft.  The  Killing- 
worth  coal  field  is  considerably  dislocated.  After  the  colliery  was 

*  Evidence  given  before  the  Select  Committee  on  Accidents  in  Mines,  1835. 


IMPROVEMENTS     IN     COLLIERIES.  125 

opened,  at  a  very  short  distance  from  the  shaft,  one  of  those  disloca- 
tions was  met  with.  The  coal  was  thrown  down  about  forty  yards. 
Considerable  time  was  spent  in  sinking  another  pit  to  this  depth. 
And  on  my  going  down  to  examine  the  work,  I  proposed  making 
the  engine  (which  had  been  erected  some  time  previously)  to  draw 
the  coals  up  an  inclined  plane  which  descended  immediately  from 
the  place  where  it  was  fixed.  A  considerable  change  was  accordingly 
made  in  the  mode  of  working  the  colliery,  not  only  in  applying  the 
machinery,  but  in  employing  putters  instead  of  horses  in  bringing 
the  coals  from  the  hewers;  and  by  those  changes  the  number  of 
horses  in  the  pit  was  reduced  from  about  100  to  15  or  16.  During 
the  time  I  was  engaged  in  making  these  important  alterations,  I  went 
round  the  workings  in  the  pit  with  the  viewer  almost  every  time  that 
he  went  into  the  mine,  not  only  at  Killingworth,  but  at  Mountmoor, 
Derwentcrook,  Southmoor,  all  of  which  collieries  belonged  to  Lord 
Ravensworth  and  his  partners;  and  the  whole  of  the  machinery  in  all 
these  collieries  was  put  under  my  charge." 

It  will  thus  be  observed  that  Stephenson  had  now  much  better  op- 
portunities for  improving  himself  in  mechanics  than  he  had  heretofore 
possessed.  His  practical  knowledge  of  the  steam-engine  could  not 
fail  to  prove  of  the  greatest  value  to  him.  His  shrewd  insight, 
together  with  his  intimate  acquaintance  with  its  mechanism,  enabled 
him  to  apprehend,  as  if  by  intuition,  its  most  abstruse  and  difficult 
combinations.  The  study  which  he  had  given  to  it  when  a  work- 
man, and  the  patient  manner  in  which  he  had  groped  his  way  through 
all  the  details  of  the  machine,  gave  him  the  power  of  a  master  in 
dealing  with  it  as  applied  to  colliery  purposes. 

The  subject  of  the  locomotive  engine  was  already  occupying  Stephen- 
son's  careful  attention,  although  it  was  still  regarded  in  the  light  of 
a  curious  and  costly  toy,  of  comparatively  little  real  use.  But  he  had, 
at  an  early  period,  recognized  its  practical  value,  and  formed  an  ade- 
quate conception  of  the  might  which  as  yet  slumbered  within  it,  and 
he  now  proceeded  to  bend  the  whole  faculties  of  his  mind  to  the  de- 
velopment of  its  powers. 

THE  LOCOMOTIVE   ENGINE — GEORGE  STEPHENSON   BEGINS  ITS 
IMPROVEMENT. 

The  rapid  increase  in  the  coal-trade  of  the  Tyne,  about  the  begin- 
ning of  the  present  century,  had  the  effect  of  stimulating  the  ingenuity 
of  mechanics,  and  encouraging  them  to  devise  improved  methods  of 
transporting  the  coal  from  the  pits  to  the  shipping-places.  The  rail- 
way wagons  still  continued  to  be  drawn  by  horses.  By  improving 
and  flattening  the  tram-way,  considerable  economy  in  horse-power  had 
been  secured ;  but,  unless  some  more  effective  method  of  mechanical 
traction  could  be  devised,  it  was  clear  that  railway  improvement  had 
almost  reached  its  limits. 


126  GEORGE     STEPHENSON. 

Notwithstanding  Trevithick's  comparatively  successful  experiment 
with  the  first  railway  locomotive  on  the  Merthyr  Tydvil  tram-road  in 
1804,  he  seems  to  have  taken  no  farther  steps  to  bring  his  invention 
into  notice.  He  was  probably  discouraged  by  the  breakage  of  the 
cast-iron  plates,  of  which  the  road  was  formed,  which  were  crushed 
under  the  load  of  his  engine,  and  could  not  induce  the  owners  of 
the  line  to  relay  it  with  better  materials  so  as  to  give  his  locomotive 
a  fair  trial.  Trevithick  himself  does  not  seem  to  have  erected  another 
engine,  but  we  gather  from  Mr.  Rastrick  that,  ten  or  twelve  years 
before  that  time,  he  had  made  an  engine  for  Trevithick  after  his 
patent,  and  that  the  engine  was  exhibited  in  London.  "A  circular 
railroad  was  laid  down,"  said  Mr.  Rastrick,  "and  it  was  stated  that 
this  engine  was  to  run  against  a  horse,  and  that  which  went  a  sufficient 
number  of  miles  was  to  win."  It  is  not  known  what  afterward  became 
of  this  engine. 

There  were,  however,  at  a  much  earlier  period,  several  wealthy  and 
enterprising  men,  both  in  Yorkshire  and  Northumberland,  who  were 
willing  to  give  the  locomotive  a  fair  trial ;  and  had  Trevithick  but 
possessed  the  requisite  tenacity  of  purpose — had  he  not  been  too  soon 
discouraged  by  partially  successful  experiments — he  might  have  risen 
to  both  fame  and  fortune,  not  only  as  the  inventor  of  the  locomotive, 
but  as  the  practical  introducer  of  railway  locomotion. 

One  of  Trevithick's  early  friends  and  admirers  was  Mr.  Blackett, 
of  Wylam.  The  Wylam  wagon-way  is  one  of  the  oldest  in  the  north 
of  Erfgland.  Down  to  the  year  1807,  it  was  formed  of  wooden  spars 
or  rails,  laid  down  between  the  colliery  at  Wylam — where  old  Robert 
Stephenson  worked — and  the  village  of  Lemington,  some  four  miles 
down  the  Tyne,  where  the  coals  were  loaded  into  keels  or  barges, 
and  floated  down  past  Newcastle,  to  be  shipped  for  London.  Each 
chaldron-wagon  had  a  man  in  charge  of  it,  and  was  originally  drawn 
by  one  horse.  The  rate  at  which  the  wagons  were  hauled  was  so 
slow  that  only  two  journeys  were  performed  by  each  man  and  horse 
in  one  day,  and  three  on  the  day  following.  This  primitive  wagon- 
way  passed,  as  before  stated,  close  in  front  of  the  cottage  in  which 
George  Stephenson  was  born,  and  one  of  the  earliest  sights  which  met 
his  infant  eyes  was  this  wooden  tram-road  worked  by  horses. 

Mr.  Blackett  was  the  first  colliery  owner  in  the  North  who  took  an 
active  interest  in  the  locomotive.  He  obtained  from  Trevithick,  in 
October,  1804,  a  plan  of  his  engine,  provided  with  "  friction-wheels," 
and  employed  Mr.  John  Whinfield,  of  Pipewellgate,  Gateshead,  to 
construct  it  at  his  foundry  there.  The  engine  was  made  under  the 
superintendence  of  one  John  Steele,  an  ingenious  mechanic,  who  had 
been  in  Wales,  and  worked  under  Trevithick  in  fitting  the  engine  at 
Pen-y-darran.  When  the  Gateshead  locomotive  was  finished,  a  tem- 
porary way  was  laid  down  in  the  .works,  on  which  it  was  run  back- 
ward and  forward  many  times.  For  some  reason  or  other,  however, 
— it  is  said  because  the  engine  was  too  light  for  drawing  the  coal- 


BLENKINSOP'S      ENGINE.  127 

trains, — it  never  left  the  works,  but  was  dismounted  from  the  wheels, 
and  set  to  blow  the  cupola  of  the  foundry,  in  which  service  it  long 
continued  to  be  employed. 

Mr.  Blackett  had  the  Wylam  wooden  tram-way  taken  up  in  1808, 
and  a  plate-way  of  cast  iron  laid  down  instead — a  single  line,  furnished 
with  sidings,  to  enable  the  laden  wagons  to  pass  the  empty  ones.  The 
new  iron  road  proved  so  much  smoother  than  the  old  wooden  one, 
that  a  single  horse,  instead  of  drawing  one,  was  enabled  to  draw 
two,  or  even  three,  laden  wagons.  Although  the  locomotive  seemed 
about  to  be  lost  sight  of,  it  was  not  forgotten.  In  1811,  Mr. 
Blenkinsop,  the  manager  of  the  Middleton  Collieries,  near  Leeds, 
revived  the  idea  of  employing  it  in  lieu  of  horses  to  haul  the  coals 
along  this  tram-way,  and  in  the  patent  which  he  took  out  for  his  pro- 
posed engine,  followed  in  many  respects  the  design  of  Trevithick ; 
but,  with  the  help  of  Matthew  Murray,  of  Leeds,  one  of  the  most 
ingenious  mechanics  of  his  day,  he  introduced  several  important  and 
valuable  modifications. 

The  principal  new  features  in  this  engine  were  the  two  cylinders 
and  the  toothed-wheel  working  into  a  rack-rail.  Mr.  Blenkinsop 
contrived  the  latter  expedient  in  order  to  insure  sufficient  adhesion 
between  the  wheel  and  the  road,  supposing  that  smooth  wheels  and 
smooth  rails  would  be  insufficient  for  the  purpose.  Clumsy  and  slow 
though  the  engine  was,  compared  with  modern  locomotives,  it  was 
nevertheless  a  success.  It  was  the  first  engine  that  plied  regularly 
upon  any  railway,  doing  useful  work;  and  it  continued  so  employed 
for  more  than  twenty  years.  What  was  more,  it  was  a  commercial 
success,  for  its  employment  was  found  to  be  economical  compared 
with  horse  power.  In  a  letter  to  Sir  John  Sinclair,  Mr.  Blenkinsop 
stated  that  his  engine  weighed  five  tons;  consumed  two-thirds  of  a 
hundred  weight  of  coals  and  fifty  gallons  of  water  per  hour ;  drew 
twenty-seven  wagons,  weighing  ninety-four  tons,  on  a  dead  level,  at 
three  and  a  half  miles  an  hour,  or  fifteen  tons  up  an  ascent  of  two 
inches  in  the  yard;  that  when  "lightly  loaded"  it  traveled  at  a  speed 
of  ten  miles  an  hour ;  that  it  did  the  work  of  sixteen  horses  in  twelve 
hours  ;  and  that  its  cost  was  4oo/.  Such  was  Mr.  Blenkinsop's  own 
account  of  the  performances  of  his  engine,  which  was  for  a  long  time 
regarded  as  one  of  the  wonders  of  the  neighborhood. 

The  Messrs.  Chapman,  of  Newcastle,  in  1812,  endeavored  to  over- 
come the  same  fictitious  difficulty  of  the  want  of  adhension  between 
the  wheel  and  the  rail  by  patenting  a  locomotive  to  work  along  the 
road  by  means  of  a  chain  stretched  from  one  end  of  it  to  the  other. 
This  chain  was  passed  once  round  a  grooved  barrel-wheel  under  the 
center  of  the  engine,  so  that  when  the  wheel  turned,  the  locomotive, 
as  it  were,  dragged  itself  along  the  railway.  An  engine  constructed 
after  this  plan  was  tried  on  the  Heaton  Railway,  near  Newcastle ; 
but  it  was  so  clumsy  in  action,  there  was  so  great  a  loss  of  power  by 
friction,  and  it  was  found  to  be  so  expensive  and  difficult  to  keep  in 


128  GEORGE     STEPHENSON. 

repair,  that  it  was  very  soon  abandoned.  Another  remarkable  ex- 
pedient was  adopted  by  Mr.  Brunton,  of  the  Butterley  Works,  Derby- 
shire, who  in  1813  patented  his  Mechanical  Traveler,  to  go  upon  legs 
working  alternately  like  those  of  a  horse.  But  this  engine  never  got 
beyond  the  experimental  state,  for,  at  its  very  first  trial,  the  driver,  to 
make  sure  of  a  good  start,  overloaded  the  safety-valve,  when  the  boiler 
burst  and  killed  a  number  of  the  by-standers,  wounding  many  more. 
These,  and  other  contrivances  with  the  same  object,  projected  about 
the  same  time,  show  that  invention  was  busily  at  work,  and  that  many 
minds  were  anxiously  laboring  to  solve  the  problem  of  steam  locomo- 
tion on  railways. 

Mr.  Blackett,  of  Wylam,  was  encouraged  by  the  success  of  Mr. 
Blenkinsop's  experiment,  and  again  he  resolved  to  make  a  trial  of  the 
locomotive  upon  his  wagon-way.  Accordingly,  in  1812,  he  ordered 
a  second  engine,  which  was  so  designed  as  to  work  with  a  toothed 
driving-wheel  upon  a  rack-rail,  as  at  Leeds.  Notwithstanding,  how- 
ever, the  comparative  failure  of  the  second  locomotive,  Mr.  Blackett 
persevered  with  his  experiments.  One  of  the  chief  causes  of  failure 
being  the  rack-rail,  the  idea  occurred  to  Mr.  Hedley,  that  it  might  be 
possible  to  secure  sufficient  adhesion  between  the  wheel  and  the  rail 
by  the  mere  weight  of  the  engine,  and  he  proceeded  to  make  a  series 
of  experiments  for  the  purpose  of  determining  this  problem.  Having 
found  the  proportion  which  the  power  bore  to  the  weight,  he  dem- 
onstrated by  successive  experiments  that  the  weight  of  the  engine 
would  of  itself  produce  sufficient  adhesion  to  enable  it  to  draw  upon 
a  smooth  railroad  the  requisite  number  of  wagons  in  all  kinds  of 
weather.  And  thus  was  the  fallacy  which  had  heretofore  prevailed  on 
this  subject  exploded,  and  it  was  satisfactorily  proved  that  rack-rails, 
toothed  wheels,  endless  chains,  and  legs,  were  alike  unnecessary  for 
the  efficient  traction  of  loaded  wagons  upon  a  moderately  level  road. 

From  this  time  forward,  considerably  less  difficulty  was  experienced 
in  working  the  coal-trains  upon  the  Wylam  tram-road.  At  length  the 
rack-rail  was  dispensed  with.  The  road  was  laid  with  heavier  rails ; 
the  working  of  the  old  engine  was  improved ;  and  a  new  engine  was 
shortly  after  built  and  placed  upon  the  road,  still  on  eight  wheels. 

While  Mr.  Blackett  was  experimenting  and  building  locomotives  at 
Wylam,  George  Stephenson  was  anxiously  studying  the  same  subject 
at  Killingworth. 

In  the  first  place,  Stephenson  resolved  to  make  himself  thoroughly 
acquainted  with  what  had  already  been  done.  Mr.  Blackett's  engines 
were  working  daily  at  Wylam,  past  the  cottage  where  he  had  been 
born,  and  thither  he  frequently  went  to  inspect  the  improvements 
made  by  Mr.  Blackett  from  time  to  time  both  in  the  locomotive  and 
in  the  plate-way  along  which  it  worked. 

An  efficient  and  economical  working  locomotive  engine  still  remained 
to  be  invented,  and  to  accomplish  this  object  Stephenson  now  applied 
himself.  Profiting  by  what  his  predecessors  had  done,  warned  by 


HIS     FIRST     LOCOMOTIVE.  I  29 

their  failures  and  encouraged  by  their  partial  successes,  he  commenced 
his  labors.  There  was  still  wanting  the  man  who  should  accomplish  for 
the  locomotive  what  James  Watt  had  done  for  the  steam-engine,  and 
combine  in  a  complete  form  the  best  points  in  the  separate  plans  of 
others,  embodying  with  them  such  original  inventions  and  adaptations 
of  his  own  as  to  entitle  him  to  the  merit  of  inventing  the  working  lo- 
comotive, as  James  Watt  is  to  be  regarded  as  the  inventor  of  the  work- 
ing condensing  engine.  This  was  the  great  work  upon  which  George 
Stephenson  now  entered,  though  probably  without  any  adequate  idea 
of  the  ultimate  importance  of  his  labors  to  society  and  civilization. 

He  proceeded  to  bring  the  subject  of  constructing  a  "  Traveling 
Engine,"  as  he  then  denominated  the  locomotive,  under  the  notice 
of  the  lessees  of  the  Killingworth  Colliery,  in  the  year  1813.  Lord 
Ravensworth,  the  principal  partner,  had  already  formed  a  very  favor- 
able opinion  of  the  new  colliery  engine-wright ;  and,  after  considering 
the  matter,  and  hearing  Stephenson's  explanations,  he  authorized 
him  to  proceed  with  the  construction  of  a  locomotive. 

Stephenson  was  under  the  necessity  of  working  with  such  men  and 
tools  as  were  at  his  command,  and  he  had  in  a  great  measure  to  train 
and  instruct  the  workmen  himself.  The  engine  was  built  in  the 
workshops  at  the  West  Moor,  the  leading  mechanic  being  John  Thirl- 
wall,  the  colliery  blacksmith,  an  excellent  mechanic  in  his  way, 
though  quite  new  to  the  work  now  intrusted  to  him. 

In  this  first  locomotive,  Stephenson,  to  some  extent,  followed  the 
plan  of  Blenkinsop's  engine.  The  wheels  of  the  locomotive  were  all 
smooth,  Stephenson  having  satisfied  himself  by  experiment  that  the 
adhesion  between  the  wheels  of  a  loaded  engine  and  the  rail  would 
be  sufficient  for  the  purpose  of  traction. 

The  engine  was,  after  much  labor  and  anxiety,  and  frequent  alter- 
ations of  parts,  at  length  brought  to  completion,  having  been  about 
ten  months  in  hand.  It  was  placed  upon  the  Killingworth  Railway 
on  the  25th  of  July,  1814,  ana  its  powers  were  tried  on  the  same  day. 
On  an  ascending  gradient  of  i  in  450,  the  engine  succeeded  in  draw- 
ing after  it  eight  loaded  carriages  of  thirty  tons'  weight  at  about  four 
miles  an  hour ;  and,  for  some  time  after,  it  continued  regularly  at 
work. 

Although  a  considerable  advance  upon  previous  locomotives,  "  Blu- 
cher  "  (as  the  engine  was  popularly  called)  was  nevertheless  a  some- 
what cumbrous  and  clumsy  machine.  The  parts  were  huddled  together. 
The  boiler  constituted  the  principal  feature;  and,  being  the  foundation 
of  the  other  parts,  it  was  made  to  do  duty  not  only  as  a  generator  of 
steam,  but  also  as  a  basis  for  the  fixings  of  the  machinery  and  for 
the  bearings  of  the  wheels  and  axles.  The  want  of  springs  was  se- 
riously felt;  and  the  progress  of  the  engine  was  a  succession  of  jolts, 
causing  considerable  derangement  to  the  machinery.  The  mode  of 
communicating  the  motive  power  to  the  wheels  by  means  of  the 
spur-gear  also  caused  frequent  jerks,  each  cylinder  alternately  propel- 

9 


130  GEORGE    STEPHEN  SON. 

ling  or  becoming  propelled  by  the  other,  as  the  pressure  of  the  one 
upon  the  wheels  became  greater  or  less  than  the  pressure  of  the 
other ;  and,  when  the  teeth  of  the  cog-wheels  became  at  all  worn,  a 
rattling  noise  was  produced  during  the  traveling  of  the  engine. 

As  the  principal  test  of  the  success  of  the  locomotive  was  its 
economy  as  compared  with  horse-power,  careful  calculations  were 
made  with  the  view  of  ascertaining  this  important  point.  The  result 
was,  that  it  was  found  the  working  of  the  engine  was  at  first  barely 
economical ;  and  at  the  end  of  the  year  the  steam-power  and  the 
horse-power  were  ascertained  to  be  as  nearly  as  possible  upon  a  par 
in  point  of  cost. 

Robert  says:  "Thus,  in  1815,  my  father  had  succeeded  in  manu- 
facturing an  engine  which  included  the  following  important  improve- 
ments on  all  previous  attempts  in  the  same  direction :  simple  and  direct 
communication  between  the  cylinder  and  the  wheels  rolling  upon  the 
rails ;  joint  adhesion  of  all  the  wheels,  attained  by  the  use  of  hori- 
zontal connecting-rods ;  and,  finally,  a  beautiful  method  of  exciting 
the  combustion  of  fuel  by  employing  the  waste  steam  which  had  for- 
merly been  allowed  uselessly  to  escape.  It  is,  perhaps,  not  too  much 
to  say  that  this  engine,  as  a  mechanical  contrivance,  contained  the 
germ  of  all  that  has  since  been  effected.  It  may  be  regarded,  in  fact, 
as  a  type  of  the  present  locomotive  engine. 

"In  describing  my  father's  application  of  the  waste  steam  for  the 
purpose  of  increasing  the  intensity  of  combustion  in  the  boiler,  and 
thus  increasing  the  power  of  the  engine  without  adding  to  its  weight, 
and  while  claiming  for  this  engine  the  merit  of  being  a  type  of  all 
those  which  have  been  successfully  devised  since  the  commencement 
of  the  Liverpool  and  Manchester  Railway,  it  is  necessary  to  observe 
that  the  next  great  improvement  in  the  same  direction,  the  'multitu- 
bular  boiler,'  which  took  place  some  years  later,  could  never  have 
been  used  without  the  help  of  that  simple  expedient,  the  steam-blast, 
by  which  power  only  the  burning  of  coke  was  rendered  possible. 

"  I  can  not  pass  over  this  last-named  invention  of  my  father's 
without  remarking  how  slightly,  as  an  original  idea,  it  has  been  ap- 
preciated; and  yet  how  small  would  be  the  comparative  value  of  the 
locomotive  engine  of  the  present  day  without  the  application  of  that 
important  invention ! 

"Engines  constructed  by  my  father  in  the  year  1818,  upon  the 
principles  just  described,  are  in  use  on  the  Killingworth  Colliery 
Railway  to  this  very  day  (1856),  conveying,  at  the  speed  of  perhaps 
five  or  six  miles  an  hour,  heavy  coal-trains,  probably  as  economically 
as  any  of  the  more  perfect  engines  now  in  use. 

"There  was  another  remarkable  piece  of  ingenuity  in  this  machine, 
which  was  completed  so  many  years  before  the  possibility  of  steam 
locomotion  became  an  object  of  general  commercial  interest  and  Par- 
liamentary inquiry.  I  have  before  observed  that  up  to  and  after  the 
year  1.818  there  was  no  .such  class  of  skilled  mechanics,  nor  were 


INVENTOR     OF     THE     STEAM-BLAST.  131 

there  such  machinery  and  tools  for  working  in  metals,  as  are  now  at 
the  disposal  of  inventors  and  manufacturers.  Among  other  difficul- 
ties of  a  similar  character,  it  was  not  possible  at  that  time  to  construct 
springs  of  sufficient  strength  to  support  the  improved  engines.  The 
rails  then  used  being  extremely  light,  the  roads  became  worn  down 
by  the  traffic,  and  occasionally  the  whole  weight  of  the  engine, 
instead  of.  being  uniformly  distributed  over  four  wheels,  was  thrown 
almost  diagonally  upon  two.  In  order  to  avoid  the  danger  arising 
from  such  irregularities  in  the  road,  my  father  arranged  the  boiler  so 
that  it  was  supported  upon  the  frame  of  the  engine  by  four  cylinders 
which  opened  into  the  interior  of  the  boiler.  These  cylinders 
were  occupied  by  pistons  with  rods,  which  passed  downward  and 
pressed  upon  the  upper  side  of  the  axles.  The  cylinders,  opening  into 
the  interior  of  the  boiler,  allowed  the  pressure  of  steam  to  be  applied 
to  the  upper  side  of  the  piston,  and  that  pressure  being  nearly  equal 
to  the  support  of  one-fourth  of  the  weight  of  the  engine,  each  axle, 
whatever  might  be  its  position,  had  the  same  amount  of  weight  to 
bear,  and  consequently  the  entire  weight  was  at  all  times  nearly 
equally  distributed  among  the  wheels.  This  expedient  was  more  neces- 
sary in  this  case,  as  the  weight  of  the  new  locomotive  engines  far  ex- 
ceeded that  of  the  carriages  which  had  hitherto  been  used  upon  col- 
liery railways,  and  therefore  subjected  the  rails  to  much  greater  risk 
from  breakage.  And  this  mode  of  supporting  the  engine  remained 
in  use  until  the  progress  of  spring-making  had  considerably  advanced, 
when  steel  springs  of  sufficient  strength  superseded  this  highly  ingen- 
ious mode  of  distributing  the  weight  of  the  engine  uniformly  among 
the  wheels." 

The  invention  of  the  Steam-blast  by  George  Stephenson,  in  1815, 
was  fraught  with  the  most  important  consequences  to  railway  locomo- 
tion, and  it  is  not  saying  too  much  to  aver  that  the  success  of  the 
locomotive  has  been  in  a  great  measure  the  result  of  its  adoption. 
Without  the  steam-blast,  by  means  of  which  the  intensity  of  combus- 
tion is  maintained  at  its  highest  point,  producing  a  correspondingly 
rapid  evolution  of  steam,  high  rates  of  speed  could  not  have  been 
kept  up ;  the  advantages  of  the  multitubular  boiler  (afterward  in- 
vented) could  never  have  been  fully  tested,  and  locomotives  might 
still  have  been  dragging  themselves  unwieldily  along  at  little  more 
than  five  or  six  miles  an  hour. 

The  following  passage  from  Mr.  Wood's  "  Practical  Treatise  on 
Railroads"  clearly  describes  the  express  object  and  purpose  for 
which  George  Stephenson  invented  and  applied  the  steam-blast  in 
the  Killingworth  engines.  Describing  their  action,  Mr.  Wood  says  : 

"  The  steam  is  admitted  to  the  top  and  bottom  of  the  piston  by 
means  of  a  sliding  valve,  which,  being  moved  up  and  down  alternately, 
opens  a  communication  between  the  top  and  bottom  of  the  cylinder 
and  the  pipe  that  is  open  into  the  chimney,  and  turns  up  within  it.  The 
steam,  after  performing  its  office  within  the  cylinder,  is  thus  thrown 


132  GEORGE     STEPHENSON. 

into  the  chimney,  and  the  power  with  which  it  issues  will  be  propor- 
tionate to  the  degree  of  elasticity ;  and  the  exit  being  directed  upward, 
accelerates  the  velocity  of  the  current  of  heated  air  accordingly. ' ' 

It  was  only  when  the  improved  passenger  engine,  fitted  with  the 
multitubular  boiler,  was  required  to  run  at  high  speed  that  the  full 
merits  of  the  blast  were  brought  out ;  and  in  detecting  its  essential 
uses  in  this  respect,  and  sharpening  it  for  the  purpose  of  increasing  its 
action,  the  sagacity  of  Timothy  Hackworth,  of  Darlington,  is  entitled 
to  due  recognition. 

Our  purpose  in  this  sketch  is  not  to  present  a  full  life  of  George 
Stephenson,  but  simply  to  bring  before  our  readers  the  history  of  his 
early  life,  to  follow  him  in  his  sturdy  endeavors  to  overcome  the  diffi- 
culties which  encompassed  his  path,  and  gather  the  best  lessons  of  his 
career  for  the  encouragement  of  others  who  may  yet  strive  to  "  win 
their  way  in  the  world" — and  more  especially  to  trace  his  own  and  his 
son  Robert's  connection  with  developing  and  perfecting  the  railway 
locomotive  ;  we  therefore  omit  references  to.  many  items  of  interest, 
his  "  Miners'  Safety  Lamp,"  and  other  inventions  and  improvements. 
Our  narrative  is  abridged  from  the  large  and  handsomely  illustrated 
volume  of  Samuel  Smiles,*  which  may  be  read  with  profit. 

In  1819,  the  owners  of  the  Hetton  Colliery,  in  the  county  of  Dur- 
ham, determined  to  have  their  wagon-way  altered  to  a  locomotive 
railroad.  The  result  of  the  working  of  the  Killingworth  Railway  had 
been  so  satisfactory  that  they  resolved  to  adopt  the  same  system.  The 
Hetton  Coal  Company,  possessed  of  adequate  means,  invited  Stephen- 
son  to  act  as  the  engineer  of  the  proposed  railway.  Stephenson 
accepted  the  appointment,  his  brother  Robert  acting  as  resident 
engineer  and  personally  superintending  the  execution  of  the  works. 

Although  George  Stephenson  had,  with  every  step  made  toward  its 
increased  utility,  become  more  and  more  identified  with  the  success  of 
the  locomotive  engine,  he  did  not  allow  his  enthusiasm  to  carry  him 
away  into  costly  mistakes.  He  carefully  drew  the  line  between  the 
cases  in  which  the  locomotive  could  be  usefully  employed  and  those  in 
which  stationary  engines  were  calculated  to  be  more  economical. 

On  the  original  Hetton  line  there  were  five  self-acting  inclines — 
the  full  wagons  drawing  the  empty  ones  up — and  two  inclines  worked 
by  fixed  reciprocating  engines  of  sixty-horse  power  each.  The  loco- 
motive traveling  engine,  or  "the  iron  horse,"  as  the  people  of  the 
neighborhood  then  styled  it,  worked  the  rest  of  the  line.  On  the 
day  of  the  opening  of  the  Hetton  Railway,  the  i8th  of  November, 
1822,  crowds  of  spectators  assembled  from  all  parts  to  witness  the 
first  operations  of  this  ingenious  and  powerful  machinery,  which  was 
entirely  successful.  On  that  day  five  of  Stephenson's  locomotives 
were  at  work  upon  the  railway,  under  the  direction  of  his  brother 
Robert ;  and  the  first  shipment  of  coal  was  then  made  by  the  Hetton 

*"The  Life  of  George  Stephenson  and  of  his  son  Robert  Stephenson." 


MINE     EXPL'OSION.  133 

Company  at  their  new  staiths  on  the  Wear.  The  speed  at  which  the 
locomotives  traveled  was  about  four  miles  an  hour,  and  each  engine 
dragged  after  it  a  train  of  seventeen  wagons  weighing  about  sixty-four 
tons. 

While  thus  advancing  step  by  step — attending  to  the  business  of 
the  Killingworth  Colliery,  and  laying  out  railways  in  the  neighbor- 
hood— he  was  carefully  watching  over  the  education  of  his  son.  We 
have  already  seen  that  Robert  was  sent  to  school  at  Newcastle,  where 
he  remained  about  four  years.  While  Robert  was  at  school,  his  father, 
as  usual,  made  his  son's  education  instrumental  to  his  own.  He  en- 
tered him  a  member  of  the  Newcastle  Literary  and  Philosophical 
Institute,  the  subscription  to  which  was  three  guineas  a  year.  Robert 
spent  much  of  his  leisure  hours  there,  reading  and  studying ;  and 
when  he  went  home  in  the  afternoons,  he  was  accustomed  to  carry 
home  with  him  a  volume  of  the  "Repertory  of  Arts  and  Sciences," 
or  of  some  work  on  practical  science,  which  furnished  the  subject  of 
interesting  reading  and  discussion  in  the  evening  hours.  Both  father 
and  son  were  always  ready  to  acknowledge  the  great  advantages  they 
had  derived  from  the  use  of  so  excellent  a  library  of  books;  and,  to- 
ward the  close  of  his  life,  the  latter,  in  recognition  of  his  debt  of 
gratitude  to  the  institution,  contributed  a  large  sum  for  the  purpose 
of  clearing  off  the  debt,  but  conditional  on  the  annual  subscription 
being  reduced  to  a  guinea,  in  order  that  the  usefulness  of  the  Insti- 
tute might  be  extended. 

Robert  left  school  in  the  summer  of  1819,  and  was  put  apprentice 
to  Mr.  Nicholas  Wood,  the  head  viewer  at  Killingworth,  to  learn  the 
business  of  the  colliery.  He  served  in  that  capacity  for  about  three 
years,  during  which  time  he  became  familiar  with  most  departments 
of  under-ground  work.  His  occupation  was  not  unattended  with  peril, 
as  the  following  incident  will  show :  Though  the  use  of  the  Geordy 
lamp  had  become  general  in  the  Killingworth  pits,  and  the  workmen 
were  bound,  under  penalty  of  half  a  crown,  not  to  use  a  naked  candle, 
it  was  difficult  to  enforce  the  rule,  and  even  the  masters  themselves 
occasionally  broke  it.  One  day  Nicholas  Wood,  the  head  viewer; 
Moodie,  the  under  viewer,  and  Robert  Stephenson,  were  proceeding 
along  one  of  the  galleries,  Wood  with  a  naked  candle  in  his  hand, 
and  Robert  following  him  with  a  lamp.  They  came  to  a  place  where 
a  fall  of  stones  from  the  roof  had  taken  place,  on  which  Wood, 
who  was  first,  proceeded  to  clamber  over  the  stones,  holding  high  the 
naked  candle.  He  had  nearly  reached  the  summit  of  the  heap,  when 
the  fire-damp,  which  had  accumulated  in  the  hollow  of  the  roof,  ex- 
ploded, and  instantly  the  whole  party  were  blown  down,  and  the 
lights  extinguished.  They  were  a  mile  from  the  shaft,  and  quite  in 
the  dark.  There  was  a  rush  of  the  work-people  from  all  quarters 
toward  the  shaft,  for  it  was  feared  that  the  fire  might  extend  to  more 
dangerous  parts  of  the  pit,  where,  if  the  gas  had  exploded,  every  soul 
in  the  mine  must  inevitably  have  perished.  Robert  Stephenson  and 


134  GEORGE     STEPHENSON. 

Moodie,  on  the  first  impulse,  ran  back  at  full  speed  along  the  gallery 
leading  to  the  shaft,  coming  into  collision,  on  their  way,  with  the 
hind  quarters  of  a  horse  stunned  by  the  explosion.  When  they  had 
gone  halfway,  Moodie  halted,  and  bethought  him  of  Nicholas  Wood. 
"  Stop,  laddie  !"  said  he  to  Robert,  "  stop ;  we  maun  gang  back  and 
seek  the  maister."  So  they  retraced  their  steps.  Happily,  no  far- 
ther explosion  took  place.  They  found  the  master  lying  on  the  heap 
of  stones,  stunned  and  bruised,  with  his  hands  severely  burnt.  They 
led  him  to  the  bottom  of  the  shaft  ;  and  he  afterward  took  care  not 
to  venture  into  the  dangerous  parts  of  the  mine  without  the  protec- 
tion of  a  Geordy  lamp.  (George  Stephenson's  improved  lamp  for- 
mines.) 

The  time  that  Robert  spent  at  Killingworth  as  viewer's  apprentice 
was  of  advantage  both  to  his  father  and  himself.  The  evenings  were 
generally  devoted  to  reading  and  study,  the  two  from  this  time 
working  together  as  friends  and  co-laborers.  One  who  used  to  drop 
in  at  the  cottage  of  an  evening  well  remembers  the  animated  and 
eager  discussions  which  on  some  occasions  took  place,  more  especi- 
ally with  reference  to  the  growing  powers  of  the  locomotive  engine. 
The  son  was  even  more  enthusiastic  than  his  father  on  the  subject. 
Robert  would  suggest  numerous  alterations  and  improvements  in  de- 
tail. His  father,  on  the  contrary,  would  offer  every  possible  objec- 
tion, defending  the  existing  arrangements — proud,  nevertheless,  of 
his  son's  suggestions,  and  often  warmed  and  excited  by  his  brilliant 
anticipations  of  the  ultimate  triumph  of  the  locomotive. 
,  These  discussions  probably  had  considerable  influence  in  inducing 
Stephenson  to  take  the  next  important  step  in  the  education  of  his 
son.  Although  Robert,  who  was  only  nineteen  years  of  age,  was 
doing  well,  and  was  certain,  at  the  expiration  of  his  apprenticeship, 
to  rise  to  a  higher  position,  his  father  was  not  satisfied  with  the 
amount  of  instruction  which  he  had  as  yet  given  him.  Remembering 
the  disadvantages  under  which  he  had  himself  labored,  through  his 
ignorance  of  practical  chemistry  during  his  investigations  connected 
with  the  safety-lamp,  more  especially  with  reference  to  the  properties 
of  gas,  as  well  as  in  the  course  of  his  experiments  with  the  object  of 
improving  the  locomotive  engine,  he  determined  to  furnish  his  son 
with  a  better  scientific  culture  than  he  had  yet  attained.  He  also 
believed  that  a  proper  training  in  technical  science  was  indispensable 
to  success  in  the  higher  walks  of  the  engineer's  profession,  and  he 
determined  to  give  Robert  the  education,  in  a  certain  degree,  which 
he  so  much  desired  for  himself.  He  would  thus,  he  knew,  secure  ah 
able  co-worker  in  the  elaboration  of  the  great  ideas  now  looming 
before  him  and  with  their  united  practical  and  scientific  knowledge 
he  probably  felt  that  they  would  be  equal  to  any  enterprise. 

He  accordingly  took  Robert  from  his  labors  as  under  viewer  in  the 
West  Moor  Pit,  and  in  October,  1822,  sent  him  for  a  short  course 
of  instruction  to  the  Edinburgh  University.  Robert  was  furnished 


MARRIES     THE     SECOND     TIME.  135 

with  letters  of  introduction  to  several  men  of  literary  eminence  in 
Edinburgh,  his  father's  reputation  in  connection  with  the  safety-lamp 
being  of  service  to  him  in  this  respect. 

One  of  the  practical  sciences  in  the  study  of  which  Robert 
Stephenson  took  special  interest  while  at  Edinburgh  was  that  of  Geol- 
ogy. The  situation  of  a  city,  in  the  midst  of  a  district  of  highly  inter- 
esting geological  formation,  easily  accessible  to  pedestrians,  is  indeed 
most  favorable  to  the  pursuit  of  such  a  study ;  and  it  was  the  practice 
of  Professor  Jameson  frequently  to  head  a  band  of  his  pupils,  armed 
with  hammers,  chisels,  and  clinometers,  and  take  them  with  him  on 
a  long  ramble  into  the  country,  for  the  purpose  of  teaching  them 
habits  of  observation,  and  reading  to  them  from  the  open  book  of 
Nature  itself. 

Toward  the  end  of  the  summer  the  young  student  returned  to 
Killingworth  to  re-enter  upon  the  active  business  of  life.  The  six 
months'  study  had  cost  his  father  8o/. — a  considerable  sum  to  him  in 
those  days ;  but  he  was  amply  repaid  by  the  additional  scientific  cul- 
ture which  his  son  had  acquired,  and  the  evidence  of  ability  and 
industry  which  he  was  enabled  to  exhibit  in  a  prize  for  mathematics 
which  he  had  won  at  the  University. 

We  may  here  add  that  by  this  time  George  Stephenson,  after  re- 
maining a  widower  fourteen  years,  had  married,  in  1820,  his  second 
wife,  Elizabeth  Hindmarsh,  the  daughter  of  a  respectable  farmer  at 
Black  Callerton.  She  was  a  woman  of  excellent  character,  sensible, 
and  intelligent,  and  of  a  kindly  and  affectionate  nature.  George's 
son  Robert,  whom  she  loved  as  if  he  had  been  her  own,  to  the  last 
day  of  his  life  spoke  of  her  in  the  highest  terms;  and  it  is  unques- 
tionable that  she  contributed  in  no  small  degree  to  the  happiness  of 
her  husband's  home. 

GEORGE  STEPHENSON   ENGINEER   OF    THE    STOCKTON  AND   DARLINGTON 

RAILWAY. 

It  is  not  improbable  that  the  slow  progress  made  by  railways  in 
public  estimation  was,  in  a  considerable  measure,  due  to  the  compar- 
ative want  of  success  which  had  attended  the  first  projects.  We  do 
not  refer  to  the  tram-xoads  and  railroads  which  connected  the  col- 
lieries and  iron-works  with  the  shipping-places.  These  were  found 
convenient  and  economical,  and  their  use  became  general  in  Durham 
and  Northumberland,  in  South  Wales,  in  Scotland,  and  throughout 
the  colliery  districts.  But  none  of  these  were  public  railways. 
Though  the  Merthyr  Tydvil  Tram-road,  the  Sirhoway  Railroad,  and 
others  in  South  Wales,  were  constructed  under  the  powers  of  special 
acts,  they  were  exclusively  used  for  the  private  purposes  of  the  coal- 
owners  and  iron-masters  at  whose  expense  they  were  made. 

The  first  public  Railway  Act  was  that  passed  in  1801,  authorizing 
the  construction  of  "The  Surrey  Iron  Railway."  By  a  subsequent 


136  GEORGE     STEPHENSON. 

act,  powers  were  obtained  to  extend  the  line  to  Reigate,  with  a 
branch  to  Godstone.  The  object  of  this  railway  was  to  furnish  a 
more  ready  means  for  the  transport  of  coal  and  merchandise  from  the 
Thames  to  the  districts  of  South  London,  and  at  the  same  time  to 
enable  the  lime-burners  and  proprietors  of  stone-quarries  to  send  the 
lime  and  stone  to  London.  With  this  object,  the  railroad  was  con- 
nected with  a  dock  or  basin  in  Wandsworth  Creek  capable  of  con- 
taining thirty  barges,  with  an  entrance  lock  into  the  Thames. 

The  works  had  scarcely  been  commenced  ere  the  company  got  into 
difficulties,  but  eventually  26  miles  of  iron-way  were  constructed  and 
opened  for  traffic.  Any  person  was  then  at  liberty  to  put  wagons  on 
the  line,  and  to  carry  goods  within  the  prescribed  rates,  the  wagons 
being  worked  by  horses,,  mules,  and  donkeys.  Notwithstanding  the 
very  sanguine  expectations  which  were  early  formed  as  to  the  paying 
qualities  of  this  railway,  it  never  realized  any  adequate  profit  to  the 
owners.  But  it  continued  to  be  worked,  principally  by  donkeys  for 
the  sake  of  cheapness,  down  to  the  passing  of  the  act  for  constructing 
the  London  and  Brighton  line  in  1837,  when  the  proprietors  disposed 
of  it  to  the  new  company.  The  line  was  dismantled ;  the  stone 
blocks  and  rails  were  taken  up  and  sold  ;  and  all  that  remains  is  the 
track  still  observable  to  the  south  of  Croydon,  and  an  occasional 
cutting  and  embankment,  which  still  mark  the  route  of  this  first  pub- 
lic railway.  There  was,  as  yet,  no  general  recognition  of  the  ad- 
vantages either  of  railways  or  locomotives. 

The  ill  success  of  railways  was  generally  recognized.  Nearly  twenty 
years  passed  between  the  construction  of  the  first  and  the  second 
public  railway  in  England  ;  and  this  brings  us  to  the  projection  of 
the  Stockton  and  Darlington,  the  parent  public  locomotive  railway  in 
the  kingdom. 

The  district  lying  to  the  west  of  Darlington,  in  the  county  of  Dur- 
ham, is  one  of  the  richest  mineral  fields  of  the  North.  Vast  stores 
of  coal  underlie  the  valley,  and  from  an  early  period  it  was  an  exceed- 
ingly desirable  object  to  open  up  new  communications  to  market. 
But  the  district  lay  a  long  way  from  the  sea,  and  the  Tees  being  un- 
navigable,  there  was  next  to  no  vend  for  the  Bishop  Aukcland  coal. 

It  is  easy  to  understand,  therefore,  how  the  desire  to  obtain  an  out- 
let for  this  coal  should  have  early  occupied  the  attention  of  the  coal- 
owners.  The  first  idea  that  found  favor  was  the  construction  of  a 
canal.  About  a  century  ago,  in  1766,  shortly  after  the  Duke  of 
Bridgewater's  Canal  had  been  opened  to  Manchester,  a  movement 
was  set  on  foot  at  Darlington  to  have  the  country  surveyed  to  Stock- 
ton. 

In  October,  1768,  Whitworth  presented  his  plan  of  the  , proposed 
canal  from  Stockton  by  Darlington  to  Winston,  and  in  the  following 
year  Brindley  concurred  with  him  in  a  joint  report. 

When  it  became  known  that  some  engineering  scheme  was  afoot  at 
Stockton,  Ralph  Dodd,  the  first  projector  of  a  tunnel  under  the 


RAILWAY    OR    CANAL.  137 

Thames,  and  the  first  to  bring  a  steam-boat  from  Glasgow  into  the 
Thames,  addressed  the  Corporation  of  Stockton  in  1796  on  the  pro- 
priety of  forming  a  line  of  internal  navigation  by  Darlington  and 
Staindrop  to  Winston.  Still  nothing  was  done. 

The  public  head  is  usually  very  thick,  and  it  is  difficult  to  hammer 
a  new  idea  into  it.  Canals  were  established  methods  of  conveyance, 
and  were  every-where  recognized ;  whereas  railways  were  new  things, 
and  were  struggling  hard  to  gain  a  footing.  Besides,  the  only  pub- 
lic railway  in  England,  the  Croydon  and  Merstham,  had  proved  a 
commercial  failure,  and  was  held  up  as  a  warning  to  all  speculators 
on  tram-ways.  But,  though  the  Newcastle  meeting  approved  of  a 
canal  in  preference  to  a  railway  from  the  Tyne  to  the  Sol  way,  nothing 
was  really  done  to  promote  the  formation  of  either. 

In  May,  1818,  the  movement  in  favor  of  a  canal  was  again  revived 
at  Stockton.  In  September,  1818,  Mr.  Overton,  who  had  laid 
down  several  coal  railways  in  Wales,  was  consulted,  and,  after  sur- 
veying the  district,  sent  in  his  report.  Mr.  Rennie  also  was  con- 
sulted. Both  engineers  gave  their  opinion  in  favor  of  a  railway, 
"whether  taken  as  a  line  for  the  exportation  of  coal  or  as  one  for  a 
local  trade."  The  committee  reported  in  favor  of  the  railway. 

A  survey  of  the  line  was  then  ordered,  and  steps  were  taken  to 
apply  to  Parliament  for  the  necessary  powers  to  construct  the  railway. 
But  the  controversy  was  not  yet  at  an  end.  Stockton  stood  by  its 
favorite  project  of  a  canal,  and  would  not  subscribe  a  farthing  toward 
the  projected  railway ;  but  neither  did  it  subscribe  toward  the  canal. 
The  landlords,  the  road  trustees,  the  carriers,  the  proprietors  of 
donkeys  (by  whom  coals  were  principally  carried  for  inland  sale),  were 
strenuously  opposed  to  the  new  project ;  while  the  general  public, 
stupid  and  skeptical,  for  the  most  part  stood  aloof,  quoting  old  saws 
and  keeping  their  money  in  their  pockets. 

Several  energetic  men,  however,  were  now  at  the  head  of  the  rail- 
way project,  and  determined  to  persevere  with  it.  Among  these,  the 
Peases  were  the  most  zealous.  Edward  Pease  might  be  regarded  as 
the  back-bone  of  the  concern.  Opposition  did  not  daunt  him,  nor 
failure  discourage  him.  When  apparently  overthrown  and  prostrate, 
he  would  rise  again  stronger  than  before,  and  renew  his  efforts  with 
increased  vigor.  He  had  in  him  the  energy  and  perseverance  of  many 
men.  One  who  knew  him  in  1818  said,  "  He  was  a  man  who  could 
see  a  hundred  years  ahead."  In  his  eighty-eighth  year,  in  1854,  a  few 
years  before  his  death,  he  still  possessed  the  hopefulness  and  mental 
vigor  of  a  man  in  his  prime.  Still  sound  in  health,  his  eye  had  not 
lost  its  brilliancy,  nor  his  cheek  its  color,  and  there  was  an  elasticity 
in  his  step  which  younger  men  might  have  envied. 

The  Richardsons  and  Backhouses,  members,  like  himself,  of  the 
Society  of  Friends,  influenced  by  his  persuasion,  united  themselves 
with  him  ;  and  so  many  of  the  same  denomination  (having  confidence 
in  these  influential  Darlington  names)  followed  their  example  and  sub- 


138  GEORGE     STEPHENSON. 

scribed  for  shares,  that  the  railway  obtained  the  designation,  which  it 
long  retained,  of  "The  Quakers'  Line." 

The  Stockton  and  Darlington  scheme  had  to  run  the  gauntlet  of  a 
fierce  opposition  in  three  successive  sessions  of  Parliament.  The  ap- 
plication of  1818  was  defeated  by  the  Duke  of  Cleveland,  who  after- 
ward profited  so  largely  by  the  railway. 

Some  time  elapsed  before  any  active  steps  were  taken  to  proceed 
with  the  construction  of  the  railway.  Doubts  were  raised  whether  the 
line  was  the  best  that  could  be  adopted  for  the  district,  and  the  sub- 
scribers generally  were  not  so  sanguine  about  the  undertaking  as  to 
induce  them  to  press  it  forward. 

One  day,  about  the  end  of  the  year  1821,  two  strangers  knocked  at 
the  door  of  Mr.  Pease's  house  in  Darlington,  and  a  message  was 
brought  to  him  that  some  persons  from  Killingworth  wanted  to  speak 
with  him.  They  were  invited  in,  on  which  one  of  the  visitors  intro- 
duced himself  as  Nicholas  Wood,  viewer  at  Killingworth,  and  then 
turning  to  his  companion,  he  introduced  him  as  George  Stephenson, 
engine-wright,  of  the  same  place. 

Mr.  Pease  entered  into  conversation  with  his  visitors,  and  was  soon 
told  their  object.  Stephenson  had  heard  of  the  passing  of  the  Stock- 
ton and  Darlington  Act,  and  desiring  to  increase  his  railway  experi- 
ence, and  also  to  employ  in  some  larger  field  the  practical  knowledge 
he  had  already  acquired,  he  determined  to  visit  the  known  projector 
of  the  undertaking,  with  the  view  of  being  employed  to  carry  it  out. 
He  had  brought  with  him  his  friend  Wood  for  the  purpose  at  the  same 
time  of  relieving  his  diffidence  and  supporting  his  application. 

Mr.  Pease  liked  the  appearance  of  his  visitor  :  "There  was,"  as  he 
afterward  remarked,  when  speaking  of  Stephenson,  "such  an  honest, 
sensible  look  about  him,  and  he  seemed  so  modest  and  unpretending. 
He  spoke  in  the  strong  Northumbrian  dialect  of  his  district,  and 
described  himself  as  '  only  the  engine-wright  at  Killingworth  ;  that's 
what  he  was.1  ' 

Mr.  Pease  soon  saw  that  our  engineer  was  the  very  man  for  his  pur- 
pose. The  whole  plans  of  the  railway  were  still  in  an  undetermined 
state,  and  Mr.  Pease  was  therefore  glad  to  have  the  opportunity  of 
profiting  by  Stephenson 's  experience.  In  the  course  of  their  conversa- 
tion, the  latter  strongly  recommended  a  railway  in  preference  to  a 
tram-road.  They  also  discussed  the  kind  of  tractive  power  to  be 
employed,  Mr.  Pease  stating  that  the  company  had  based  their  whole 
calculations  on  the  employment  of  /torse-power.  "  I  was  so  satisfied," 
said  he  afterward,  "that  a  horse  upon  an  iron  road  would  draw  ten 
tons  for  one  ton  on  a  common  road,  that  I  felt  sure  that  before  long 
the  railway  would  become  the  king's  highway." 

But  Mr.  Pease  was  scarcely  prepared  for  the  bold  assertion  made  by 
his  visitor,  that  the  locomotive  engine  with  which  he  had  been  work- 
ing the  Killingworth  Railway  for  many  years  past  was  worth  fifty 
horses,  and  that  engines  made  after  a  similar  plan  would  yet  entirely 


GEORDIE    THE    ENGINE-WRIGHT.  139 

supersede  all  horse-power  upon  railroads.  Stephenson  was  daily  be- 
coming more  positive  as  to  the  superiority  of  his  locomotive,  and 
hence  he  strongly  urged  Mr.  Pease  to  adopt  it.  "  Come  over  to 
Killingworth,"  said  he,  "and  see  what  my  engines  can  do;  seeing  is 
believing,  sir."  Mr.  Pease  accordingly  promised  that  on  some  early 
day  he  would  go  over  to  Killingworth,  and  take  a  look  at  the  won- 
derful machine  that  was  to  supersede  horses. 

The  result  of  the  interview  was,  that  Mr.  Pease  promised  to  bring 
Stephenson's  application  for  the  appointment  of  engineer  before  the 
directors,  and  to  support  it  with  his  influence ;  whereori  the  two  visi- 
tors prepared  to  take  their  leave,  informing  Mr.  Pease  that  they  in- 
tended to  return  to  Newcastle  "by  ni^;"  that  is,  they  expected  to 
get  a  smuggled  lift  on  the  stage-coach  by  tipping  Jehu — for  in  those 
days  the  stage  coachmen  regarded  all  casual  roadside  passengers  as 
their  proper  perquisites.  They  had,  however,  been  so  much  engrossed 
by  their  conversation  that  the  lapse  of  time  was  forgotten,  and  when 
Stephenson  and  his  friend  made  inquiries  about  the  return  coach, 
they  found  the  last  had  left,  and  they  had  to  walk  eighteen  miles  to 
Durham  on  their  way  back  to  Newcastle. 

Mr.  Pease  having  made  farther  inquiries  respecting  Stephenson's 
character  and  qualifications,  and  having  received  a  very  strong  recom- 
mendation of  him  as  the  right  man  for  the  intended  work,  he  brought 
the  subject  of  his  application  before  the  directors  of  the  Stockton 
and  Darlington  Company.  They  resolved  to  adopt  his  recommend- 
ation, that  a  railway  be  formed  instead  of  a  tram-road ;  and  they 
farther  requested  Mr.  Pease  to  write  to  Stephenson,  desiring  him  to 
undertake  a  re-survey  of  the  line  at  the  earliest  practicable  period. 

A  man  was  dispatched  on  a  horse  with  the  letter,  and  when  he 
reached  Killingworth  he  made  diligent  inquiry  after  the  person  named 
on  the  address,  "George  Stephenson,  Esquire,  Engineer."  No  such 
person  was  known  in  the  village.  It  is  said  that  the  man  was  on  the 
point  of  giving  up  all  farther  search,  when  the  happy  thought  struck 
some  of  the  colliers'  wives  who  had  gathered  about  him  that  it  must 
be  "  Geordie  the  engine-wright,"  the  man  was  in  search  of,  and  to 
Geordie's  cottage  he  accordingly  went,  found  him  at  home,  and  de- 
Kvered  the  letter. 

About  the  end  of  September,  Stephenson  went  carefully  over  the 
line  of  the  proposed  railway  for  the  purpose  of  suggesting  such  im- 
provements and  deviations  as  he  might  consider  desirable.  He  was 
accompanied  by  an  assistant  and  a  chainman,  his  son  Robert  entering 
the  figures  while  his  father  took  the  sights.  After  being  engaged  in 
the  work  at  intervals  for  about  six  weeks,  Stephenson  reported  the 
result  of  his  survey  to  the  Board  of  Directors,  and  showed  that,  by 
certain  deviations,  a  line  shorter  by  about  three  miles  might  be  con- 
structed at  a  considerable  saving  in  expense,  while  at  the  same  time 
more  favorable  gradients — an  important  consideration — would  be 
secured. 


140  GEORGE     STEPHENSON. 

It  was,  however,  determined  in  the  first  place  to  proceed  with  the 
works  at  those  parts  of  the  line  where  no  deviation  was  proposed,  and 
the  first  rail  of  the  Stockton  and  Darlington  Railway  was  laid  with 
considerable  ceremony,  near  Stockton,  on  the  23d  of  May,  1822. 

It  is  worthy  of  note  that  Stephenson,  in  making  his  first  estimate 
of  the  cost  of  forming  the  railway  according  to  the  instructions  of 
the  directors,  set  down,  as  part  of  the  cost,  6,  zoo/,  for  stationary  en- 
gines, not  mentioning  locomotives  at  all.  It  was  the  intention  of  the 
directors,  in  the  first  place,  to  employ  only  horses  for  the  haulage  of 
the  coals,  and  fixed  engines  and  ropes  where  horse-power  was  not  ap- 
plicable. The  whole  question  of  steam -locomotive  power  was,  in  the 
estimation  of  the  public,  as  \$e\l  as  of  practical  and  scientific  men,  as 
yet  in  doubt.  The  confident  anticipations  of  George  Stephenson  as  to 
the  eventual  success  of  locomotive  engines  were  regarded  as  mere 
speculations ;  and  when  he  gave  utterance  to  his  views,  as  he  fre- 
quently took  the  opportunity  of  doing,  it  even  had  the  effect  of  shak- 
ing the  confidence  of  some  of  his  friends  in  the  solidity  of  his  judg- 
ment and  his  practical  qualities  as  an  engineer. 

When  Mr.  Pease  discussed  the  question  with  Stephenson,  his  remark 
was,  "  Come  over  and  see  my  engines  at  Killingworth,  and  satisfy 
yourself  as  to  the  efficiency  of  the  locomotive.  I  will  show  you  the 
colliery  books,  that  you  may  ascertain  for  yourself  the  actual  cost  of 
working.  And  I  must  tell  you  that  the  economy  of  the  locomotive 
engine  is  no  longer  a  matter  of  theory,  but  a  matter  of  fact."  So 
confident  was  the  tone  in  which  Stephenson  spoke  of  the  success  of 
his  engines,  and  so  important  were  the  consequences  involved  in  ar- 
riving at  a  correct  conclusion  on  the  subject,  that  Mr.  Pease  at  length 
resolved  on  paying  a  visit  to  Killingworth  in  the  summer  of  1822,  in 
company  with  his  friend  Thomas  Richardson,  a  considerable  subscriber 
to  the  Stockton  and  Darlington  undertaking,  to  inspect  the  wonderful 
new  power  so  much  vaunted  by  their  engineer. 

When  Mr.  Pease  arrived  at  Killingworth  village,  he  inquired  for 
George  Stephenson,  and  was  told  that  he  must  go  over  to  the  West  Moor, 
and  seek  for  a  cottage  by  the  roadsi4e  with  a  dial  over  the  door — 
"that  was  where  George  Stephenson  lived."  They  soon  found  the 
house  with  the  dial,  and,  on  knocking,  the  door  was  opened  by  Mrs. 
Stephenson.  In  answer  to  Mr.  Pease's  inquiry  for  her  husband,  she 
said  he  was  not  in  the  house  at  present,  but  that  she  would  send  for 
him  to  the  colliery.  And  in  a  short  time  Stephenson  appeared  before 
them  in  his  working  dress,  just  as  he  had  come  out  of  the  pit. 

He  very  soon  had  his  locomotive  brought  up  to  the  crossing  close 
by  the  end  of  the  cottage,  made  the  gentleman  mount  it,  and  showed 
them  its  paces.  Harnessing  it  to  a  train  of  loaded  wagons,  he  ran 
it  along  the  railroad,  and  so  thoroughly  satisfied  his  visitors  of  its 
power  and  capabilities,  that  from  that  day  Edward  Pease  was  a  de- 
clared supporter  of  the  locomotive  engine.  In  preparing  the  Amended 
Stockton  and  Darlington  Act,  at  Stephenson's  urgent  request,  Mr. 


FIRST    APPOINTMENT    AS     ENGINEER.  141 

Pease  had  a  clause  inserted,  taking  power  to  work  the  railway  by 
means  of  locomotive  engines,  and  to  employ  them  for  hauling  passengers 
as  well  as  merchandise.*  The  act  was  obtained  in  1823,  on  which 
Stephenson  was  appointed  the  company's  engineer,  at  a  salary  of 
3oo/.  per  annum;  and  it  was  determined  that  the  line  should  be 
constructed  and  opened  for  traffic  as  soon  as  practicable. 

He  at  once  proceeded,  accompanied  by  his  assistants,  with  the 
working  survey  of  the  line,  laying  out  every  foot  of  the  ground  him- 
self. Railway  surveying  was  as  yet  in  its  infancy,  and  was  slow  and 
difficult  work.  It  afterward  became  a  separate  branch  of  railway 
business,  and  was  intrusted  to  a  special  staff.  Indeed,  on  no  subse- 
quent line  did  George  Stephenson  take  the  sights  through  the  spirit- 
level  with  his  own  hands  and  eyes  as  he  did  on  this  railway.  He 
started  very  early — dressed  in  a  blue-tailed  coat,  breeches,  and  top- 
boots — and  surveyed  until  dusk.  He  was  not  at  any  time  particular 
as  to  his  living  ;  and,  during  the  survey,  he  took  his  chance  of  get- 
ting a  little  milk  and  bread  at  some  cottager's  house  along  the  line, 
or  occasionally  joined  in  a  homely  dinner  at  some  neighboring  farm- 
house. The  country  people  were  accustomed  to  give  him  a  hearty 
welcome  when  he  appeared  at  their  door,  for  he  was  always  full  of 
cheery  and  homely  talk,  and,  when  there  were  children  about  the 
house,  he  had  plenty  of  humorous  chat  for  them  as  well  as  for  their 
seniors. 

After  the  day's  work  was  over,  George  would  drop  in  at  Mr.  Pease's 
to  talk  over  the  progress  of  the  survey,  and  discuss  various  matters 
connected  with  the  railway.  Mr.  Pease's  daughters  were  usually 
present ;  and,  on  one  occasion,  finding  the  young  ladies  learning  the 
art  of  embroidery,  he  volunteered  to  instruct  them.  This  incident, 
communicated  by  the  late  Edward  Pease,  has  since  been  made  the 
subject  of  a  fine  picture  by  Mr.  A.  Rankley,  A.R.A.,  exhibited  at  the 
Royal  Academy  Exhibition  of  1861.  "I  know  all  about  it,"  said 
he,  "and  you  will  wonder  how  I  learned  it.  I  will  tell  you.  When 
I  was  a  brakeman  at  Killingworth,  I  learned  the  art  of  embroidery 
while  working  the  pitmen's  button-holes  by  the  engine  fire  at  nights." 
He  was  never  ashamed,  but,  on  the  contrary,  rather  proud,  of  re- 
minding his  friends  of  these  humble  pursuits  of  his  early  life.  Mr. 
Pease's  family  were  greatly  pleased  with  his  conversation,  which  was 
always  amusing  and  instructive ;  full  of  all  sorts  of  experience,  gath- 
ered in  the  oddest  and  most  out-oT-the-way  places.  Even  at  that 
early  period,  before  he  mixed  in  the  society  of  educated  persons, 
there  was  a  dash  of  speculativeness  in  his  remarks  which  gave  a  high 
degree  of  originality  to  his  conversation ;  and  he  would  sometimes, 
in  a  casual  remark,  throw  a  flash  of  light  upon  a  subject  which  called 
up  a  train  of  pregnant  suggestions. 

*  The  first  clause  in  any  railway  act  empowering  the  employment  of  locomotive 
engines  for  the  working  of  passenger  traffic. 


142  GEORGE     STEPHENSON. 

One  of  the  most  important  subjects  of  discussion  at  these  meetings 
with  Mr.  Pease  was  the  establishment  of  a  manufactory  at  Newcastle, 
for  the  building  of  locomotive  engines.  Up  to  this  time  all  the  loco- 
motives constructed  after  Stephenson's  designs  had  been  made  by 
ordinary  mechanics  working  at  the  collieries  in  the  North  of  England. 
But  he  had  long  felt  that  the  accuracy  and  style  of  their  work- 
manship admitted  of  great  improvement,  and  that  upon  this  the  more 
perfect  action  of  the  locomotive  engine,  and  its  general  adoption,  in 
a  great  measure  depended.  One  principal  object  that  he  had  in 
view  in  establishing  the  proposed  factory  was  to  concentrate  a  num- 
ber of  good  workmen  for  the  purpose  of  carrying  out  the  improve- 
ments in  detail  which  he  was  from  time  to  time  making  in  his  engine ; 
for  he  felt  hampered  by  the  want  of  efficient  help  from  skilled  me- 
chanics, who  could  work  out  in  a  practical  form  the  ideas  of  which 
his  busy  mind  was  always  so  prolific.  Doubtless,  too,  he  believed 
that  the  manufactory  would  prove  a  remunerative  investment,  and 
that,  on  the  general  adoption  of  the  railway  system  which  he  antici- 
pated, he  would  derive  solid  advantages  from  the  fa.ct  of  his  estab- 
lishment being  the  only  one  of  the  kind  for  the  special  construction 
of  locomotive  engines. 

Mr.  Pease  approved  of  his  design,  and  strongly  recommended  him 
to  carry  it  into  effect.  But  there  was  the  question  of  means ;  and 
Stephenson  did  not  think  he  had  capital  enough  for  the  purpose. 
He  told  Mr.  Pease  that  he  could  advance  iooo/. — the  amount  of  the 
testimonial  presented  by  the  coal-owners  for  his  safety-lamp  inven- 
tion, which  he  had  still  left  untouched ;  but  he  did  not  think  this 
sufficient  for  the  purpose,  and  he  thought  that  he  should  require  at 
least  another  iooo/.  Mr.  Pease  had  been  very  much  struck  with  the 
successful  performances  of  the  Killingworth  engine ;  and,  being  an 
accurate  judge  of  character,  he  believed  that  he  could  not  go  far 
wrong  in  linking  a  portion  of  his  fortune  with  the  energy  and  indus- 
try of  George  Stephenson.  He  consulted  his  friend  Thomas  Rich- 
ardson in  the  matter,  and  the  two  consented  to  advance  SOQ/.  each 
for  the  purpose  of  establishing  the  engine  factory  at  Newcastle.  A 
piece  of  land  was  accordingly  purchased  in  Forth  Street,  in  August, 
1823,  on  which  a  small  building  was  erected — the  nucleus  of  the  gi- 
gantic establishment  which  was  afterward  formed  around  it ;  and 
active  operations  were  begun  early  in  1824. 

While  the  Stockton  and  Darlington  Railway  works  were  in  prog- 
ress, our  engineer  had  many  interesting  discussions  with  Mr.  Pease 
on  points  connected  with  its  construction  and  working,  the  deter- 
mination of  which  in  a  great  measure  affected  the  formation  and 
working  of  future  railways.  The  most  important  points  were  these : 
i.  The  comparative  merits  of  cast  and  wrought  iron  rails.  2.  The 
gauge  of  the  railway.  3.  The  employment  of  horse  or  engine  power 
in  working  it  when  ready  for  traffic. 

The  kind  of  rails  to  be  laid  down   to  form  the   permanent   road 


HIS     UNSELFISH    ADVICE.  143 

was  a  matter  of  considerable  importance.  A  wooden  tram-road  had 
been  contemplated  when  the  first  act  was  applied  for ;  but  Stephenson 
having  advised  that  an  iron  road  should  be  laid  down,  he  was  in- 
structed to  draw  up  a  specification  of  the  rails.  He  went  before  the 
directors  to  discuss  with  them  the  kind  of  material  to  be  specified. 
He  was  himself  interested  in  the  patent  for  cast-iron  rails,  which  he 
had  taken  out  in  conjunction  with  Mr.  Losh,  in  1816,  and,  of  course, 
it  was  to  his  interest  that  his  articles  should  be  used.  But  when 
requested  to  give  his  opinion  on  the  subject,  he  frankly  said  to  the 
directors,  "  Well,  gentlemen,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  although  it  would 
put  5oo/.  in  my  pocket  to  specify  my  own  patent  rails,  I  can  not  do 
so  after  the  experience  I  have  had.  If  you  take  my  advice,  you  will 
not  lay  down  a  single  cast-iron  rail."  "  Why  ?"  asked  the  directors. 
"  Because  they  will  not  stand  the  weight,  and  you  will  be  at  no  end 
of  expense  for  repairs  and  relays."  "What  kind  of  road,  then,"  he 
was  asked,  "  would  you  recommend  ?"  "  Malleable  rails,  certainly," 
said  he ;  "  and  I  can  recommend  them  with  the  more  confidence 
from  the  fact  that  at  Killingworth  we ,  have  had  some  Swedish  bars 
laid  down — nailed  to  wooden  sleepers — for  a  period  of  fourteen  years, 
the  wagons  passing  over  them  daily,  and  there  they  are,  in  use  yet, 
whereas  the  cast  rails  are  constantly  giving  way." 

Stephenson's  recommendation  of  wrought-iron  instead  of  cast-iron 
rails  was  the  cause  of  a  rupture  between  Mr.  Losh  and  himself.  Steph- 
enson thought  his  duty  was  to  give  his  employers  the  the  best  ad- 
vice ;  Losh  thought  his  business  was  to  push  the  patent  cast-iron  rails 
wherever  he  could.  Stephenson  regarded  this  view  as  sordid ;  and 
the  two  finally  separated  after  a  quarrel,  in  high  dudgeon  with  each 
other. 

The  price  of  malleable  rails  was,  however,  so  high — being  then 
worth  about  i2/.  per  ton — as  compared  with  cast-iron  rails  at  about  5 /. 
ioj.,  and  the  saving  of  expense  was  so  important  a  consideration  with 
the  subscribers,  that  Stephenson  was  directed  to  provide  in  the  speci- 
fication that  only  one-half  of  the  rails  required — or  about  800  tons — 
should  be  of  malleable  iron,  and  the  remainder  of  cast-iron.  The 
malleable  rails  were  of  the  kind  called  "  fish-bellied,"  and  weighed 
28  Ibs.  to  the  yard,  being  2%  inches  broad  -at  the  top,  with  the 
upper  flange  ^  inch  thick.  They  were  only  2  inches  in  depth  at 
the  points  at  which  they  rested  on  the  chairs,  and  3^  inches  in  the 
middle  or  bellied  part. 

When  forming  the  road,  the  proper  gauge  had  also  to  be  deter- 
mined. What  width  was  this  to  be  ?  The  gauge  of  the  first  tram- 
road  laid  down  had  virtually  settled  the  point.  The  gauge  of  wheels 
of  the  common  vehicles  of  the  country — of  the  carts  and  wagons 
employed  on  common  roads,  which  were  first  used  on  the  tram-roads 
— was  about  4  feet  8^  inches.  And  so  the  first  tram-roads  were  laid 
down  of  this  gauge.  The  tools  and  machinery  for  constructing  coal- 
wagons  and  locomotives  were  formed  with  this  gauge  in  view.  The 


144  GEORGE     STEPHENSON. 

Wylam  wagon-way,  afterward  the  Wylam  plate-way,  the  Killingworth 
railroad,  and  the  Helton  railroad,  were  as  nearly  as  possible  on  the 
same  gauge. 

As  the  period  drew  near  for  the  opening  of  the  line,  the  question 
of  the  tractive  power  to  be  employed  was  anxiously  discussed.  At 
the  Brtisselton  incline,  fixed  engines  must  necessarily  be  made  use  of; 
but  with  respect  to  the  mode  of  working  the  railway  generally,  it  was 
decided  that  horses  were  to  be  largely  employed,  and  arrangements 
were  made  for  their  purchase. 

Although  locomotives  had  been  regularly  employed  in  hauling  coal- 
wagons  on  the  Middleton  Colliery  Railway,  near  Leeds,  for  more 
than  twelve  years,  and  on  the  Wylam  and  Killingworth  Railways 
near  Newcastle  for  more  than  ten  years,  great  skepticism  still  prevailed 
as  to  the  economy  of  employing  them  for  the  purpose  in  lieu  of 
horses.  In  this  case,  it  would  appear  that  seeing  was  not  believing. 
The  popular  skepticism  was  as  great  at  Newcastle,  where  the  oppor- 
tunities for  accurate  observation  were  the  greatest,  as  anywhere  else. 
In  1824  the  scheme  of  a  canal  between  that  town  and  Carlisle  again 
came  up,  and,  though  a  few  timid  voices  were  raised  on  behalf  of  a 
railway,  the  general  opinion  was  still  in  favor  of  a  canal.  The  ex- 
ample of  the  Hetton  Railway,  which  had  been  successfully  worked  by 
Stephenson's  locomotives  for  two  years  past,  was  pointed  to  in  proof 
of  the  practicability  of  a  locomotive  line  between  the  two  places ;  but 
the  voice  of  the  press  as  well  as  of  the  public  was  decidedly  against 
the  "  new-fangled  roads." 

"There  has  been  some  talk,"  wrote  the  "  Whitehaven  Gazette," 
"  from  a  puff  criticism  in  the  '  Monthly  Review,'  of  an  improvement 
on  the  principle  of  railways ;  but  we  suspect  that  this  improvement 
will  turn  out  like  the  steam  carriages,  of  which  we  have  been  told  so 
much,  that  were  to  supersede  the  use  of  horses  entirely,  and  travel 
at  a  rate  almost  equal  to  the  speed  of  the  fleetest  horse  /"  The  idea  was 
too  chimerical  to  be  entertained,  and  the  suggested  railway  was  ac- 
cordingly rejected  as  impracticable. 

The  "Tyne  Mercury"  was  equally  decided  against  railways. 
"  What  person,"  asked  the  editor  (November  i6th,  1824),  "would 
ever  think  of  paying  any  thing  to  be  conveyed  from  Hexham  to  New- 
castle in  something  like  a  coal-wagon,  upon  a  dreary  wagon-way,  and 
to  be  dragged  for  the  greater  part  of  the  distance  by  a  ROARING 
STEAM-ENGINE  !"  The  very  notion  of  such  a  thing  was  preposterous, 
ridiculous,  and  utterly  absurd. 

When  such  was  the  state  of  public  opinion  as  to  railway  locomo- 
tion, some  idea  may  be  formed  of  the  clearsightedness  and  moral 
courage  of  the  Stockton  and  Darlington  directors  in  ordering  three 
of  Stephenson's  locomotive  engines,  at  a  cost  of  several  thousand 
pounds,  against  the  opening  of  the  railway. 

These  were  constructed  after  Stephenson's  most  matured  designs, 
and  embodied  all  the  improvements  which  he  had  contrived  up  to 


OPINION     ON     SUCCESS      OF      RAILWAYS.  145 

that  time.  No.  i  engine,  the  "  Locomotion,"  which  was  first  delivered, 
weighed  about  eight  tons.  It  had  one  large  flue  or  tube  through  the 
boiler,  by  which  the  heated  air  passed  direct  from  the  furnace  at  one 
end,  lined  with  fire-bricks,  to  the  chimney  at  the  other.  The  com- 
bustion in  the  furnace  was  quickened  by  the  adoption  of  the  steam- 
blast  in  the  chimney.  The  heat  raised  was  sometimes  so  great,  and 
it  was  so  imperfectly  abstracted  by  the  surrounding  water,  that 
the  chimney  became  almost  red-hot.  Such  engines,  when  put  to  their 
speed,  were  found  capable  of  running  at  the  rate  of  from  twelve  to 
sixteen  miles  an  hour;  but  they  were  better  adapted  for  the  heavy 
work  of  hauling  coal-trains  at  low  speeds — for  which,  indeed,  they 
were  specially  constructed — than  for  running  at  the  higher  speeds 
afterward  adopted.  Nor  was  it  contemplated  by  the  directors  as  pos- 
sible, at  the  time  when  they  were  ordered,  that  locomotives  could  be 
made  available  for  the  purposes  of  passenger  traveling.  Besides,  the 
Stockton  and  Darlington  Railway  did  not  run  through  a  district  in 
which  passengers  were  supposed  to  be  likely  to  constitute  any  con- 
siderable portion  of  the  traffic. 

We  may  easily  imagine  the  anxiety  felt  by  George  Stephenson 
during  the  progress  of  the  works  toward  completion,  and  his  mingled 
hopes  and  doubts  (though  his  doubts  were  but  few)  as  to  the  issue  of 
this  great  experiment.  When  the  formation  of  the  line  near  Stock- 
ton was  well  advanced,  the  engineer  one  day,  accompanied  by  his 
son  Robert  and  John  Dixon,  made  a  journey  of  inspection  of  the 
works.  The  party  reached  Stockton,  and  proceeded  to  dine  at  one 
of  the  inns  there.  After  dinner,  Stephenson  ventured  on  the  very 
unusual  measure  of  ordering  in  a  bottle  of  wine,  to  drink  success  to 
the  railway.  John  Dixon  relates  with  pride  the  utterance  of  the 
master  on  the  occasion.  "Now,  lads,"  said  he  to  the  two  young 
men,  "  I  venture  to  tell  you  that  I  think  you  will  live  to  see  the  day 
when  railways  will  supersede  almost  all  other  methods  of  conveyance 
in  this  country — when  mail-coaches  will  go  by  railway,  and  railroads 
will  become  the  great  highways  for  the  king  and  all  his  subjects. 
The  time  is  coming  when  it  will  be  cheaper  for  a  working  man  to 
travel  on  a  railway  than  to  walk  on  foot.  I  know  there  are  great  and 
almost  insurmountable  difficulties  to  be  encountered,  but  what  I  have 
said  will  come  to  pass  as  sure  as  you  now  hear  me.  I  only  wish  I 
may  live  to  see  the  day,  though  that  I  can  scarcely  hope  for,  as  I  know 
how  slow  all  human  progress  is,  and  with  what  difficulty  I  have  been 
able  to  get  the  locomotive  introduced  thus  far,  notwithstanding  my 
more  than  ten  years'  successful  experiment  at  Killingworth."  The 
result,  however,  outstripped  even  George  Stephenson's  most  sanguine 
anticipations ;  and  his  son  Robert,  shortly  after  his  return  from 
America  in  1827,  saw  his  father's  locomotive  adopted  as  the  tractive 
power  on  railways  generally. 

Tuesday,  the  ayth  of  September,  1825,  was  a  great  day  for  Darling- 
ton. The  railway,  after  having  been  under  construction  for  more 
10 


1 46  GEORGE     STEPHENSON. 

than  three  years,  was  at  length  about  to  be  opened.  The  project  had 
been  the  talk  of  the  neighborhood  for  so  long,  that  there  were  few 
people  within  a  range  of  twenty  miles  who  did  not  feel  more  or  less 
interested  about  it.  Was  it  to  be  a  failure  or  a  success?  Opinions 
were  pretty  equally  divided  as  to  the  railway,  but  as  regarded  the 
locomotive  the  general  belief  was  that  it  would  "never  answer." 
However,  there  the  locomotive  was — "No.  i" — delivered  onto  the 
line,  and  ready  to  draw  the  first  train  of  wagons  on  the  opening  day. 

A  great  concourse  of  people  assembled  on  the  occasion.  Some 
came  from  Newcastle  and  Durham,  many  from  the  Aucklands,  while 
Darlington  held  a  general  holiday,  and  turned  out  all  its  population. 
To  give  tclat  to  the  opening,  the  directors  of  the  company  issued  a 
programme  of  the  proceedings,  intimating  the  times  at  which  the  pro- 
cession of  wagons  would  pass  certain  points  along  the  line.  The  pro- 
prietors assembled  as  early  as  six  in  the  morning  at  the  Brusselton 
fixed  engine,  where  the  working  of  the  inclined  planes  was  success- 
fully rehearsed.  A  train  of  wagons  laden  with  coals  and  merchandise 
was  drawn  up  the  western  incline  by  the  fixed  engine,  a  length  of 
1960  yards,  in  seven  and  a  half  minutes,  and  then  lowered  down  the 
incline  on  the  eastern  side  of  the  hill,  880  yards,  in  five  minutes. 

At  the  foot  of  the  incline  the  procession  of  vehicles  was  formed, 
consisting  of  the  locomotive  engine  No.  i,  driven  by  George  Stephen- 
son  himself;  after  it  six  wagons  loaded  with  coals  and  flour,  then  a 
covered  coach  containing  directors  and  proprietors,  next  twenty-one 
coal-wagons  fitted  up  for  passengers  (with  which  they  were  crammed), 
and  lastly  six  more  wagons  loaded  with  coals. 

Strange  to  say,  a  man  on  a  horse,  carrying  a  flag,  with  the  motto 
of  the  company  inscribed  on  it,  Periculum  privatum  utilitas  publica, 
headed  the  procession  !  A  lithographic  view  of  the  great  event,  pub- 
lished shortly  after,  duly  exhibits  the  horseman  and  his  flag.  It  was 
not  thought  so  dangerous  a  place  after  all.  The  locomotive  was  only 
supposed  to  be  able  to  go  at  the  rate  of  from  four  to  six  miles  an 
hour,  and  an  ordinary  horse  could  easily  keep  ahead  of  that. 

Off  started  the  procession,  with  the  horseman  at  its  head.  A  great 
concourse  of  people  stood  along  the  line.  Many  of  them  tried  to 
accompany  it  by  running,  and  some  gentlemen  on  horseback  galloped 
across  the  fields  to  keep  up  with  the  train.  The  railway  descending 
with  a  gentle  incline  toward  Darlington,  the  rate  of  speed  was  con- 
sequently variable.  At  a  favorable  part  of  the  road  Stephenson  de- 
termined to  try  the  speed  of  the  engine,  and  he  called  upon  the 
horseman  with  the  flag  to  get  out  of  the  way  !  Most  probably  deem- 
ing it  unnecessary  to  carry  his  Periculum  privatum  farther,  the  horse- 
man turned  aside,  and  Stephenson  "  put  on  the  steam."  The  speed 
was  at  once  raised  to  twelve  miles  an  hour,  and,  at  a  favorable  part 
of  the  road,  to  fifteen.  The  runners  on  foot,  the  gentlemen  on 
horseback,  and  the  horseman  with  the  flag,  were  consequently  soon 
left  far  behind.  When  the  train  reached  Darlington,  it  was  found 


GREAT     RAILWAY     CELEBRATION.  147. 

that  four  hundred  and  fifty  passengers  occupied  the  wagons,  and  that 
the  load  of  men,  coals,  and  merchandise  amounted  to  about  ninety 
tons. 

At  Darlington  the  procession  was  rearranged.  The  six  loaded 
coal -wagons  were  left  behind,  and  other  wagons  were  taken  on  with 
a  hundred  and  fifty  more  passengers,  together  with  a  band  of  music. 
The  train  then  started  for  Stockton, — a  distance  of  only  twelve  miles, 
— which  was  reached  in  about  three  hours.  The  day  was  kept 
throughout  the  district  as  a  holiday;  and  horses,  gigs,  carts,  and 
other  vehicles,  filled  with  people,  stood  along  the  railway,  as  well  as 
crowds  of  persons  on  foot,  waiting  to  see  the  train  pass.  The  whole 
population  of  Stockton  turned  out  to  receive  the  procession,  and, 
after  a  walk  through  the  streets,  the  inevitable  dinner  in  the  Town 
Hall  wound  up  the  day's  proceedings. 

All  this,  however,  was  but  gala  work.  The  serious  business  of  the 
company  began  on  the  following  day.  Upon  the  result  of  the  ex- 
periment now  fairly  initiated  by  the  Stockton  and  Darlington  Com- 
pany, the  future  of  railways  in  a  great  measure  depended.  If  it  failed, 
like  the  Croydon  and  Merstham  undertaking,  then  a  great  check 
would  unquestionably  be  given  to  speculation  in  railways.  If  it  suc- 
ceeded, the  Stockton  and-  Darlington  enterprise  would  mark  the 
beginning  of  a  new  era,  and  issue  in  neither  more  nor  less  than  a 
complete  revolution  of  the  means  of  communication  in  all  civilized 
countries. 

The  circumstances  were,  on  the  whole,  favorable,  and  boded  success 
rather  than  failure.  Prudent,  careful,  thoughtful  men  were  at  the 
head  of  the  concern,  interested  in  seeing  it  managed  economically 
and  efficiently;  and  they  had  the  advantage  of  the  assistance  of  an 
engineer  possessed  of  large  resources  of  mother  wit,  mechanical 
genius,  and  strong  common  sense.  There  was  an  almost  unlimited 
quantity  of  coal  to  be  carried,  the  principal  difficulty  being  in  ac- 
commodating it  satisfactorily.  Yet  it  was  only  after  the  line  had 
been  at  work  for  some  time  that  the  extensive  character  of  the  coal 
traffic  began  to  be  appreciated.  Al  first  it -was  supposed  that  the 
chief  trade  would  be  in  coal  for  land  sale.  But  the  clause  inserted 
in  the  original  act,  at  the  instance  of  Mr.  Lambton,  by  which  the 
company  were  limited  to  y^d.  per  ton  per  mile  for  coal  led  to  Stock- 
ton for  shipment,  led  to  the  most  unexpected  consequences.  It  was 
estimated  that  only  about  10,000  tons  a  year  would  be  shipped,  and 
that  principally  by  way  of  ballast.  Instead  of  which,  in  the  course 
of  a  very  few  years,  the  coal  carried  on  the  line  for  export  consti- 
tuted the  main  bulk  of  the  traffic,  while  that  carried  for  land  sale 
was  merely  subsidiary. 

The  anticipations  of  the  company  as  to  passenger-traffic  were,  in 
like  manner,  more  than  realized.  At  first,  passengers  were  not 
thought  of,  and  it  was  only  while  the  works  were  in  progress  that  the 
starting  of  a  passenger-coach  was  seriously  contemplated.  Some 


148  GEORGE     STEPHENSON. 

eighty  years  since,  there  was  only  one  post-chaise  in  Darlington, 
which  ran  on  three  wheels.  There  are  people  still  living  who  remem- 
ber when  a  coach  ran  from  Stockton  three  days  in  the  week,  passing 
through  Darlington  and  Barnard  Castle;  but  it  was  starved  off  the 
road  for  want  of  support.  There  was  then  very  little  intercourse 
between  the  towns,  though  they  were  so  near  to  each  other,  and 
comparatively  so  populous;  and  it  was  not  known  whether  people 
would  trust  themselves  to  the  iron  road.  Nevertheless,  it  was  deter- 
mined to  make  trial  of  a  railway  coach,  and  George  Stephenson  was 
authorized  to  have  one  built  at  Newcastle  at  the  cost  of  the  company. 
This  was  done  accordingly,  and  the  first  railway  passenger-carriage 
was  built  after  our  engineer's  design.  It  was,  however,  a  very  modest, 
and,  indeed,  a  somewhat  uncouth  machine,  more  resembling  a  show- 
man's caravan  than  a  passenger-coach  of  any  extant  form.  A  row 
of  seats  ran  along  each  side  of  the  interior,  and  a  long  deal  table 
was  fixed  in  the  center,  the  access  being  by  means  of  a  door  at  the 
back  end,  in  the  manner  of  an  omnibus.  This  coach  arrived  from 
Newcastle  on  the  day  before  the  opening,  and  formed  part  of  the 
procession  above  described.  Stephenson  was  consulted  as  to  the 
name  of  the  coach,  and  he  at  once  suggested  the  "Experiment;" 
and  by  this  name  it  was  called.  Such  was  the  sole  passenger-carry- 
ing stock  of  the  Stockton  and  Darlington  Company  in  the  year 
1825.  But  "The  Experiment"  proved  the  forerunner  of  a  mighty 
traffic;  and  long  time  did  not  elapse  before  it  was  displaced,  not 
only  by  improved  coaches  (still  drawn  by  horses),  but  afterward  by 
long  trains  of  passenger-carriages  drawn  by  locomotive  engines. 

The  "Experiment"  was  fairly  started  as  a  passenger-coach  on  the 
loth  of  October,  1825,  a  fortnight  after  the  opening  of  the  line.  It 
was  drawn  by  one  horse,  and  performed  a  journey  daily  each  way 
between  the  two  towns,  accomplishing  the  distance  of  twelve  miles 
in  about  two  hours.  The  fare  charged  was  a  shilling,  without  dis- 
tinction of  class ;  and  each  passenger  was  allowed  fourteen  pounds  of 
luggage  free.  The  "  Experiment  "  was  not,  however,  worked  by  the 
company,  but  was  let  «to  contractors,  who  worked  it  under  an  ar- 
rangement whereby  toll  was  paid  for  the  use  of  the  line,  rent  of 
booking-cabins,  etc.  The  speculation  answered  so  well  that  several 
private  coaching  companies  were  shortly  after  got  up  by  innkeepers  at 
Darlington  and  Stockton,  for  the  purpose  of  running  other  coaches  upon 
the  railroad,  and  an  active  competition  for  passenger-traffic  sprang  up. 

The  traffic  of  all  sorts  increased  so  steadily  and  rapidly,  that  diffi- 
culty was  experienced  in  doing  it  satisfactorily.  It  had  been  provided 
by  the  first  Darlington  Act  that  the  line  should  be  free  to  all  parties 
to  put  horses  and  wagons  on  the  railway  at  certain  prescribed  rates, 
and  carry  for  themselves.  This  led  to  confusion,  and  could  not  con- 
tinue with  a  large  and  rapidly-increasing  traffic.  The  freight  trains 

*  Before  the  use  of  locomotives  on  the  railroad  from  Jersey  City  to  Newark, 
say  in  1835,  cars  not  greatly  differing  from  the  better  ones  now  used  on  "Horse 
Railroads"  were  run  by  horse-power  for  many  months;  distance  nine  miles. 


Blenkinsop's  Locomotive,  Leeds,   1811. 
See  page  127. 


Coal  Engine  No.  I,  "  Locomotion,"  1825. 
STOCKTON  *  DARLINGTON  R.  R.— See  page  110. 


THE    RACE;     HORSE    vs.  LOCOMOTIVE.  149 

got  so  long,  that  it  became  necessary  to  use  the  locomotive  engine  to 
help.  Then  mixed  trains  of  passengers  and  merchandise  began  to 
run,  and  the  Railway  Company  found  it  necessary  to  take  the  entire 
working  of  the  traffic.  In  time,  new  coaches  were  built  for  the  better 
accommodation  of  the  public,  until,  finally,  passenger-trains  were  run 
by  the  locomotive,  though  this  was  not  until  after  the  Liverpool  and 
Manchester  Company  had  established  this  branch  of  traffic. 

The  three  Stephenson  locomotives  were  from  the  first  employed  to 
work  coal-trains,  and  their  efficiency  led  to  the  gradual  increase  of 
locomotive  power.  The  speed  of  the  engine — slow  though  it  seems 
now — was  in  those  days  regarded  marvelous.  A  race  actually  came 
off  between  No.  i  engine,  the  "Locomotion,"  and  a  stage-coach, 
traveling  from  Darlington  to  Stockton  by  the  ordinary  road,  and  it 
was  regarded  a  triumph  of  mechanical  skill  that  the  locomotive 
reached  Stockton  first,  beating  the  coach  a  hundred  yards !  The 
same  engine  was  in  good  working  order  in  the  year  1846,  on  the 
opening  of  the  Middlesbo rough  and  Redcar  Railway,  traveling  at  the 
rate  of  about  fourteen  miles  an  hour. 

For  years  the  principal  hauling  of  the  line  was  performed  by  horses. 
The  inclination  of  the  gradients  being  toward  the  sea,  this  was  per- 
haps the  cheapest  mode  of  traction,  so  long  as  the  traffic  was  not  very 
large.  The  horse  drew  the  train  along  the  level  road  until,  on  reach- 
ing a  descending  gradient,  down  which  the  train  ran  by  its  own 
gravity,  the  animal  was  unharnessed,  when,  wheeling  round  to  the 
other  end  of  the  wagons,  to  which  a  "dandy-cart"  was  attached,  its 
bottom  only  a  few  inches  from  the  rail,  and  bringing  his  step  into 
unison  with  the  speed  of  the  train,  he  leaped  nimbly  into  his  place 
in  the  hind  car,  fitted  with  a  well-filled  hay-rack. 

The  details  of  the  working  were  gradually  perfected  by  experience, 
the  projectors  of  the  line  little  thinking  that  they  were  laying  the 
foundations  of  a  system  which  was  yet  to  revolutionize  the  communi- 
cations of  the  world,  and  confer  the  greatest  blessings  on  mankind. 
The  commercial  results  of  the  enterprise  were  satisfactory  from  the 
opening  of  the  railway.  Conferring  great  public  benefit  upon  the  in- 
habitants, and  throwing  open  entirely  new  markets  for  the  stores  of 
coal  found  in  the  district,  the  profits  to  stockholders  gave  encourage- 
ment to  the  projectors  of  railways  generally,  which  was  not  without 
important  effects  in  stimulating  similar  enterprises  in  other  districts. 

It  is  pleasing  to  relate,  in  connection  with  this  great  work — the 
Stockton  and  Darlington,  projected  by  Edward  Pease,  and  executed  b^ 
George  Stephenson — that  when  Mr.  Stephenson  became  a  prosperous 
and  celebrated  man,  he  did  not  forget  the  friend  who  had  helped 
him  in  his  early  days.  He  continued  to  remember  Mr.  Pease  with 
gratitude  and  affection,  and  that  gentleman,  to  the  close  of  his  life, 
was  proud  to  exhibit  a  handsome  gold  watch,  received  as  a  gift  from 
his  celebrated  prot'eg'e,  bearing  these  words — "  Esteem  and  gratitude  : 
from  George  Stephenson  to  Edward  Pease." 


150  GEORGE     STEPHENSON. 


THE   LIVERPOOL   AND    MANCHESTER   RAILWAY  PROJECTED. 

While  the  coal  proprietors  of  the  Auckland  district  were  taking 
steps  to  connect  their  collieries  with  the  sea  by  an  iron  railroad,  the 
merchants  of  Liverpool  and  Manchester  were  considering  whether 
some  better  means  could  not  be  devised  for  bringing  these  important 
centers  of  commerce  and  manufacture  into  more  direct  connection. 

There  were  canals  as  well  as  roads  between  the  two  places,  but  all 
routes  were  alike  tedious  and  costly,  especially  as  regarded  the  transit 
of  heavy  goods.  The  route  by  turnpike  was  thirty-six  miles,  by  the 
Duke  of  Bridgewater's  Canal  fifty  miles,  by  the  Mersey  and  Irwell 
navigation  the  same,  and  by  the  Leeds  and  Liverpool  Canal  fifty-six 
miles. 

These  were  all  overburdened  with  traffic.  The  roads  were  bad,  the 
tolls  heavy,  and  the  haulage  expensive.  The  journey  by  coach  occu- 
pied five  to  six  hours,  and  by  wagon  nearly  a  day.  Few  heavy  goods 
went  by  road.  The  canals  nearly  monopolized  this  traffic,  and  charged 
what  they  liked.  They  conducted  their  business  in  a  drowsy,  sleepy, 
stupid  manner.  If  the  merchant  complained  of  delay,  he  was  told  to 
do  better  if  he  could.  If  he  objected  to  the  rates,  he  was  warned 
that  if  he  did  not  pay  them  promptly  his  goods  might  not  be  carried 
at  all. 

The  canal  companies  were  in  a  position  to  dictate  their  own  ter,ms, 
and  they  did  this  in  such  a  way  as  to  disgust  alike  the  senders  and 
receivers,  so  that  both  Liverpool  and  Manchester  were  up  in  arms 
against  them.  Worse  than  the  heavy  charges  for  goods  was  the  occa- 
sional entire  stoppage  of  the  canals.  Sometimes  frozen  up ;  sometimes 
blocked  by  press  of  traffic,  so  that  goods  lay  unmoved  for  weeks 
together ;  at  some  seasons  it  occupied  a  longer  time  to  bring  cotton 
from  Liverpool  to  Manchester  by  canal-boat  than  it  had  done  to 
bring  it  from  New  York  to  Liverpool  by  sailing  ship. 

Was  there  no  way  of  remedying  these  great«  and  admitted  evils  ? 
Were  the  commercial  public  to  be  bound  hand  and  foot,  and  left  at 
the  mercy  of  the  canal  proprietors?  Immense  interests  at  Liverpool 
and  Manchester  were  at  stake.  The  Liverpool  merchants  wanted  new 
facilities  for  sending  raw  material  inland,  and  the  Manchester  manu- 
facturers for  sending  the  manufactured  products  back  to  Liverpool 
for  shipment.  Vast  populations  had  become  settled  in  the  towns  of 
South  Lancashire,  to  whom  it  was  of  vital  importance  that  the  com- 
munication with  the  sea  should  be  regular,  constant,  and  economical. 

These  considerations  early  led  to  the  discussion  of  some  improved 
mode  of  transit  from  Liverpool  into  the  interior  for  heavy  goods,  and 
one  of  the  most  favored  plans  was  that  of  a  tram-road. 

While  the  project  was  still  in  embryo,  the  rumor  of  it  reached  Mr. 
William  James,  an  enthusiastic  advocate  of  tram-roads  and  railways. 
As  a  land-surveyor  and  land-agent,  as  well  as  coal-owner,  he  had  laid 


PUBLIC     OPINION     AGAINST     RAILWAYS.  15! 

down  many  private  railroads.  He  had  also  laid  out  and  superin- 
tended the  execution  and  the  working  of  canals,  projected  extensive 
schemes  of  drainage  and  inclosure,  and  was  one  of  the  most  useful 
and  active  men  of  his  time.  But  a  series  of  unfortunate  speculations 
in  mines  having  seriously  impaired  his  fortunes,  he  again  reverted 
to  his  profession  of  land-surveyqr,  and  was  so  occupied  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  Liverpool  when  he  heard  of  the  scheme  set  on  foot  for 
the  construction  of  the  proposed  tram-road  to  Manchester.  He  at 
once  called, upon  Mr.  Sandars  and  offered  his  services  as  its  surveyor. 
A  trial  survey  was  begun,  but  it  was  conducted  with  great  difficulty, 
the  inhabitants  of  the  district  entertaining  much  prejudice  against 
the  scheme.  In  some  places  Mr.  James  and  his  surveying  party 
had  even  to  encounter  personal  violence. 

.  .  .  Pamphlets  were  published  and  newspapers  hired  to  revile 
the  railway.  It  was  declared  that  its  formation  would  prevent  the 
cows  grazing  and  hens  laying,  while  the  horses  passing  along  the 
road  would  be  driven  distracted.  The  poisoned  air  from  the  locomo- 
tives would  kill  the  birds  that  flew  over  them,  and  render  the  pres- 
ervation of  pheasants  and  foxes  no  longer  possible.  Householders 
adjoining  the  projected  line  were  told  that  their  houses  would  be 
burnt  up  by  the  fire  thrown  from  the  engine  chimneys,  while  the  air 
around  would  be  polluted  by  clouds  of  smoke.  There  would  no  longer 
be  any  use  for  horses ;  and  if  railways  extended,  the  species  would 
become  extinguished,  and  oats  and  hay  be  rendered  unsalable  com- 
modities. Traveling  by  rail  would  be  highly  dangerous,  and  country 
inns  would  be  ruined.  Boilers  would  burst  and  blow  passengers  to 
atoms.  But  there  was  always  this  consolation  to  wind  up  with — that 
the  weight  of  the  locomotive  would  completely  prevent  its  moving, 
and  that  railways,  even  if  made,  could  never  be  worked  by  steam-power. 

Although  the  press  generally  spoke  of  the  Liverpool  and  Manches- 
ter project  as  a  mere  speculation — as  only  one  of  the  many  bubble 
schemes  of  the  period — there  were  other  writers  who  entertained  dif- 
ferent views,  and  boldly  and  ably  announced  them.  Among  the  most 
sagacious  newspaper  articles  of  the  day,  calling  attention  to  the  ap- 
plication of  the  locomotive  engine  to  the  purposes  of  rapid  steam- 
traveling  on  railroads,  was  a  series  which  appeared  in  1824,  in  the 
"Scotsman"  newspaper,  then  edited  by  Mr.  Charles  Maclaren.  In 
those  publications  the  wonderful  powers  of  the  locomotive  were  logic- 
ally demonstrated,  and  the  writer,  arguing  from  the  experiments  on 
friction,  made  more  than  half  a  century  before,  by  Vince  and  Coulomb, 
which  scientific  men  seemed  to  have  altogether  lost  sight  of,  clearly 
showed  that,  by  the  use  of  steam-power  on  railroads,  the  cheaper  as 
well  as  more  rapid  transit  of  persons  and  merchandise  might  be  con- 
fidently anticipated. 

Not  many  years  passed  before  the  anticipations  of  the  writer,  san- 
guine and  speculative  though  they  were  at  that  time  regarded,  were 
amply  realized.  Even  Mr.  Nicholas  Wood,  in  1825,  speaking  of  the 


152  GEORGE     STEPHENSON. 

powers  of  the  locomotive,  and  referring,  doubtless,  to  the  speculations 
of  the  "  Scotsman  "  as  well  as  of  his  equally  sanguine  friend  Stephen- 
son,  observed  :  "  It  is  far  from  my  wish  to  promulgate  to  the  world 
that  the  ridiculous  expectations,  or  rather  professions,  of  the  enthusi- 
astic speculist  will  be  realized,  and  that  we  shall  see  engines  traveling 
at  the  rate  of  twelve,  sixteen,  eighteen,  or  twenty  miles  an  hour. 
Nothing  could  do  more  harm  toward  their  general  adoption  and  im- 
provement than  the  promulgation  of  such  nonsense."* 

Among  the  papers  left  by  Mr.  Sandars,  we  find  a  letter  addressed  to 
him  by  Sir  John  Barrow,  of  the  Admiralty,  as  to  the  proper  method 
of  conducting  the  case  in  Parliament,  which  pretty  accurately  repre- 
sents the  state  of  public  opinion  as  to  the  practicability  of  locomotive 
traveling  on  railroads  at  the  time  at  which  it  was  written,  the  loth  of 
January,  1825.  Sir  John  strongly  urged  -Mr.  Sandars  to  keep  the 
locomotive  altogether  in  the  background;  to  rely  upon  the  proved 
inability  of  the  canals  and  common  roads  to  accommodate  the  exist- 
ing traffic,  and  to  be  satisfied  with  proving  the  absolute  necessity  of 
a  new  line  of  conveyance ;  above  all,  he  recommended  him  not  even 
to  hint  at  the  intention  of  carrying  passengers.  "  You  will  at  once," 
said  he,  "  raise  a  host  of  enemies  in  the  proprietors  of  coaches,  post- 
chaises,  innkeepers,  etc.,  whose  interests  will  be  attacked,  and  who, 
I  have  no  doubt,  will  be  strongly  supported,  and  for  what  ?  Some 
thousands  of  passengers,  you  say — but  a  few  hundreds,  /should  say — 
in  the  year." 

He  accordingly  urged  that  passengers  as  well  as  speed  should  be  kept 
entirely  out  of  the  act ;  but,  if  the  latter  were  insisted  on,  then  he 
recommended  that  it  should  be  kept  as  low  as  possible — say  at  five 
miles  an  hour ! 

When  George  Stephenson,  at  the  interviews  with  counsel,  held  pre- 
vious to  the  Liverpool  and  Manchester  Bill  going  into  Committee  of 
the  House  of  Commons,  confidently  stated  his  expectation  of  being 
able  to  run  his  locomotive  at  the  rate  of  twenty  miles  an  hour,  Mr. 
William  Brougham  frankly  told  him  that  if  he  did  not  moderate  his 
views,  and  bring  his  engine  within  a  reasonable  speed,  he  would  "  in- 
evitably damn  the  whole  thing,  and  be  himself  regarded  as  a  maniac, 
fit  only  for  Bedlam." 

The  idea  thrown  out  by  Stephenson  of  traveling  at  a  rate  of  speed 
double  that  of  the  fastest  mail-coach  appeared  at  the  time  so  prepos- 
terous that  he  'was  unable  to  find  any  engineer  who  would  risk  his 
reputation  in  supporting  such  "absurd  views."  Speaking  of  his 
isolation  at  that  time,  he  subsequently  observed  at  a  public  meeting  of 
railway  men  in  Manchester  :  "  He  remembered  the  time  when  he 
had  very  few  supporters  in  bringing  out  the  railway  system — when  he 
sought  England  over  for  an  engineer  to  support  him  in  his  evidence 
before  Parliament,  and  could  find  only  one  man,  James  Walker,  but 

*  "  Wood  on  Railroads,"  ed.  1825,  p.  290. 


WHAT     THE     GREAT      "QUARTERLY          SAID.  153 

was  afraid  to  call  that  gentleman,  because  he  knew  nothing  about  rail- 
ways. He  had  then  no  one  to  tell  his  tale  to  but  Mr.  Sandars,  of  Liv- 
erpool, who  did  listen  to  him,  and  kept  his  spirits  up;  and  his  schemes 
had  at  length  been  carried  out  only  by  dint  of  sheer  perseverance." 

George  Stephenson's  idea  was  at  that  time  regarded  as  but  the 
dream  of  a  chimerical  projector.  It  stood  before  the  public  friend- 
less, struggling  hard  to  gain  a  footing,  scarcely  daring  to  lift  itself 
into  notice  for  fear  of  ridicule.  The  civil  engineers  generally  rejected 
the  notion  of  a  Locomotive  Railway ;  and  when  no  leading  man  of 
the  day  could  be  found  to  stand  forward  in  support  of  the  Killing- 
worth  mechanic,  its  chances  of  success  must  indeed  have  been  pro- 
nounced but  small. 

The  "Quarterly  "  scouted  the  idea  of  traveling  at  a  greater  speed 
than  eight  or  nine  miles  an  hour.  "What  can  be  more  palpably 
absurd  and  ridiculous  than  the  prospect  held  out,  of  locomotives  trav- 
eling twice  as  fast  as  stage-coaches !  We  would  as  soon  expect  the 
people  of  Woolwich  to  suffer  themselves  to  be  fired  off  upon  one  of 
Congreve's  ricochet  rockets,  as  trust  themselves  to  the  mercy  of  such 
a  machine  going  at  such  a  rate.  We  will  back  old  Father  Thames 
against  the  Woolwich  Railway  for  any  sum.  We  trust  that  Parlia- 
ment will,  in  all  railways  it  may  sanction,  limit  the  speed  to  eight  or 
nine  miles  an  hour,  which  we  entirely  agree  with  Mr.  Sylvester  is  as 
great  as  can  be  ventured  on  with  safety." 

PARLIAMENTARY   CONTEST   ON   THE   LIVERPOOL   AND    MANCHESTER   BILL. 

The  Liverpool  and  Manchester  Bill  went  into  Committee  of  the 
House  of  Commons  on  the  2ist  of  March,  1825. s  Mr.  Adam,  in  his 
opening  speech,  referred  to  the  cases  of  the  Hetton  and  Killingworth 
railroads,  where  heavy  goods  were  safely  and  economically  transported 
by  means  of  locomotive  engines.  "  None  of  the  tremendous  conse- 
quences," he  observed,  "have  ensued  from  the  use  of  steam  in  land 
carriage  that  have  been  stated.  The  horses  have  not  started,  nor  the 
cows  ceased  to  give  their  milk,  nor  have  ladies  miscarried  at  the  sight 
of  these  things  going  forward  at  the  rate  of  four  miles  and  a  half  an 
hour."  Notwithstanding  the  petition  of  two  ladies,  alleging  the  great 
danger  to  be  apprehended  from  the  bursting  of  the  locomotive  boil- 
ers, he  urged  the  safety  of  the  high-pressure  engine,  when  the  boilers 
were  constructed  of  wrought  iron  ;  and  as  to  the  rate  at  which  they 
could  travel,  he  expressed  his  full  conviction  that  such  engines  "could 
supply  force  to  drive  a  carriage  at  the  rate  of  five  or  six  miles  an 
hour." 

George  Stephenson,  many  years  afterward,  said  :  "When  I  went  to 
Liverpool  to  plan  a  line  from  thence  to  Manchester,  I  pledged  my- 
self to  the  directors  to  attain  a  speed  of  ten  miles  an  hour.  I  said  I 
had  no  doubt  the  locomotive  might  be  made  to  go  much  faster,  but 
that  we  had  better  be  moderate  at  the  beginning.  The  directors  said 


154  GEORGE    STEPHENSON. 

I  was  quite  right ;  for  that  if,  when  they  went  to  Parliament,  I  talked 
of  going  at  a  greater  rate  than  ten  miles  an  hour,  I  should  put  a  cross 
upon  the  concern.  It  was  not  an  easy  task  for  me  to  keep  the  engine 
down  to  ten  miles  an  hour,  but  it  must  be  done,  and  I  did  my  best." 

George  Stephenson  stood  before  the  committee  to  prove  what  the 
public  opinion  of  that  day  held  to  be  impossible.  The  self-taught 
mechanic  had  to  demonstrate  the  practicability  of  accomplishing  that 
which  the  most  distinguished  engineers  of  the  time  regarded  as  im- 
practicable. Clear  though  the  subject  was  to  himself,  and  familliar 
as  he  was  with  the  powers  of  the  locomotive,  it  was  no  easy  task  for 
him  to  bring  home  his  convictions,  or  even  to  convey  his  meaning,  to 
the  less  informed  minds  of  his  hearers.  In  his  strong  Northumbrian 
dialect,  he  struggled  for  utterance,  in  the  face  of  the  sneers,  in- 
terruptions, and  ridicule  of  the  opponents  of  the  measure,  and 
even  of  the  committee,  some  of  whom  shook  their  heads  and  whispered 
doubts  as  to  his  sanity  when  he  energetically  avowed  that  he  could 
make  the  locomotive  go  at  the  rate  of  twelve  miles  an  hour !  It 
was  so  grossly  in  the  teeth  of  all  the  experience  of  honorable  mem- 
bers, that  the  man  "must  certainly  be  laboring  under  a  delusion!" 

And  yet  his  large  experience  of  railways  and  locomotives,  as  de- 
scribed by  himself  to  the  committee,  entitled  this  "  untaught,  inartic- 
ulate genius,"  as  he  has  been  described,  to  speak  with  confidence 
on  the  subject.  Beginning  with  his  experience  as  a  brakeman  at 
Killingworth  in  1803,  he  went  on  to  state  that  he  was  appointed  to 
take  the  entire  charge  of  the  steam-engines  in  1813,  and  had  superin- 
tended the  railroads  connected  with  the  numerous  collieries  of  the 
Grand  Allies  from  that  time  downward.  He  had  laid  down  or  super- 
intended the  railways  at  Burradon,  Mount  Moor,  Springwell,  Bedling- 
ton,  Hetton  and  Darlington,  besides  improving  those  at  Killingworth, 
South  Moor,  and  Derwent  Crook.  He  had  constructed  fifty-five 
steam-engines,  of  which  sixteen  were  locomotives.  Some  of  these  had 
been  sent  to  France. 

The  engines  constructed  by  him  for  the  working  of  the  Killingworth 
Railroad,  eleven  years  before,  had  continued  steadily  at  work  ever 
since,  and  fulfilled  his  most  sanguine  expectations.  He  was  prepared 
to  prove  the  safety  of  working  high-pressure  locomotives  on  a  railroad, 
a^d  the  superiority  of  this  mode  of  transporting  goods  over  all  oth- 
ers. As  to  speed,  he  said  he  had  recommended  eight  miles  an  hour 
with  twenty  tons,  and  four  miles  an  hour  with  forty  tons ;  but  he  was 
quite  confident  that  much  more  might  be  done.  Indeed,  he  had  no 
doubt  they  might  go  at  the  rate  of  twelve  miles.  As  to  the  charge 
that  locomotives  on  a  railroad  would  so  terrify  the  horses  in  the 
neighborhood  that  to  travel  on  horseback  or  to  plow  the  adjoining 
fields  would  be  rendered  highly  dangerous,  the  witness  said  that 
horses  learned  to  take  no  notice  of  them,  though  there  were  horses 
that  would  shy  at  a  wheelbarrow.  A  mail-coach  was  likely  to  be 
more  shied  at  by  horses  than  a  locomotive.  In  the  neighborhood  of 


HIS     GREAT    ABILITIES    AS     MANAGER.  155 

Killingworth,  the  cattle  in  the  fields  went  on  grazing  while  the  engines 
passed  them,  and  the  farmers  made  no  complaints.  As  to  accidents, 
Stephenson  knew  of  none  that  had  occurred  with  his  engines. 

The  point  on  which  Stephenson  was  hardest  pressed  was  that  of 
speed.  "  I  believe,"  he  says,  "  that  it  would  have  lost  the  company 
their  bill  if  he  had  gone  beyond  eight  or  nine  miles  an  hour.  If  he 
had  stated  his  intention  of  going  twelve  or  fifteen  miles  an  hour,  not 
a  single  person  would  have  believed  it  to  be  practicable." 

CHAT   MOSS — CONSTRUCTION   OF   THE    RAILWAY. 

The  appointment  of  principal  engineer  of  the  railway  was  taken 
into  consideration  at  the  first  meeting  of  the  directors,  held  at  Liver- 
pool subsequent  to  the  passing  of  the  act  of  incorporation,  and  they 
proceeded  to  appoint  George  Stephenson  principal  engineer,  at  a  salary 
of  i,ooo/.  per  annum.  He  at  once  removed  his  residence  to  Liverpool. 

In  the  construction  of  the  railway,  George  Stephenson's  capacity 
for  organizing  and  directing  the  labors  of  a  large  number  of  workmen 
of  all  kinds  eminently  displayed  itself.  A  vast  quantity  of  ballast- 
wagons  had  to  be  constructed  for  the  purposes  of  the  work,  and  im- 
plements and  materials  had  to  be  collected,  before  the  mass  of  labor 
to  be  employed  could  be  efficiently  set  in  motion  at  the  various  points 
of  the  line.  There  were  not  at  that  time,  as  there  are  now,  large  con- 
tractors, possessed  of  railway  facilities,  capable  of  executing  earth- 
works on  a  large  scale.  Our  engineer  had,  therefore,  not  only  to 
contrive  the  instruments,  but  to  organize  the  labor,  and  direct  it  in 
person.  The  very  laborers  themselves  had  to  be  trained  to  their  work 
by  him;  and  it  was  on  the  Liverpool  and  Manchester  line  that  Mr. 
Stephenson  organized  the  staff  of  that  formidable  band  of  railway 
navvies,  whose  handiworks  will  be  the  wonder  and  admiration  of 
succeeding  generations.  Looking  at  their  gigantic  traces,  the  men 
of  some  future  age  may  be  found  to  declare,  of  the  engineer  and  his 
workmen,  that  "  there  were  giants  in  those  days."  The  works  of  the 
Liverpool  and  Manchester  Railway  were  then  regarded  as  of  a  stu- 
pendous kind. 

By  the  end  of  1828,  the  directors  found  they  had  expended 
46o,ooo/. ,  and  they  were  still  far  from  completion.  Mr.  Cropper,  one 
of  the  directors,  who  took  an  active  interest  in  their  progress,  said  to 
Stephenson  one  day,  "Now,  George,  thou  must  get  on  with  the  rail- 
way, and  have  it  finished  without  farther  delay:  thou  must  really  have 
it  ready  for  opening  by  the  first  day  of  January  next."  "Consider 
the  heavy  character  of  the  works,  sir,  and  how  much  we  have  been 
delayed  by  the  want  of  money,  not  to  speak  of  the  wetness  of  the 
weather:  it  is  impossible."  "Impossible!"  rejoined  Cropper;  "I 
wish  I  could  get  Napoleon  to  thee — he  would  tell  thee  there  is  no 
such  word  as  'impossible'  in  the  vocabulary."  "Tush!"  exclaimed 
Stephenson,  with  warmth,  "  do  n't  speak  to  me  about  Napoleon  !  Give 


156  GEORGE     STEPH ENSOtf. 

me  men,  money,  and  materials,  and  I  will  do  what  Napoleon  couldn't 
do — drive  a  railroad  from  Liverpool  to  Manchester  over  Chat  Moss ! ' ' 
And  truly  the  formation  of  a  high  road  over  that  bottomless  bog  was 
apparently  a  more  difficult  task  than  the  making  even  of  Napoleon's 
far-famed  road  across  the  Simplon. 

It  may  well  be  supposed  that  Stephenson's  time  was  fully  occupied 
in  superintending  the  extensive  and  for  the  most  part  novel  works 
connected  with  the  railway,  and  that  even  his  extraordinary  powers 
of  labor  and  endurance  were  taxed  to  the  utmost  during  the  four 
years  that  they  were  in  progress.  Almost  every  detail  in  the  plans 
was  directed  and  arranged  by  himself.  Every  bridge,  from  the  sim- 
plest to  the  most  complicated,  including  the  then  novel  structure  of 
the  "skew  bridge,"  iron  girders,  siphons,  fixed  engines,  and  the  ma- 
chinery for  working  the  tunnel  at  the  Liverpool  end,  had  all  to  be 
thought  out  by  his  own  head,  and  reduced  to  definite  plans  under  his 
own  eyes.  Besides  all  this,  he  had  to  design  the  "Rolling  Stick"  in 
anticipation  of  the  opening  of  the  railway.  He  must  be  prepared 
with  wagons,  trucks,  and  carriages,  himself  superintending  their  man- 
ufacture. The  permanent  road,  turn-tables,  switches,  and  crossings 
— in  short,  the  entire  structure  and  machinery  of  the  line,  from  the 
turning  of  the  first  sod  to  the  running  of  the  first  train  of  carriages 
on  the  railway,  went  on  under  his  immediate  supervision.  And  it 
was  in  the  midst  of  this  vast  accumulation  of  work  and  responsibility 
that  the  battle  of  the  locomotive  engine  had  to  be  fought — a  battle 
not  merely  against  material  difficulties,  but  against  the  still  more 
trying  obstructions  of  deeply-rooted  mistrust  and  prejudice  on  the 
part  of  a  considerable  minority  of  the  directors. 

He  had  no  staff  of  experienced  assistants, — not  even  a  staff  of 
draughtsmen  in  his  office, — but  only  a  few  pupils  learning  their  busi- 
ness, and  he  was  frequently  without  even  their  help.  The  principal 
draughtsman  was  Mr.  Thomas  Gooch,  a  pupil  he  had  brought  with 
him  from  Newcastle.  "  I  may  say,"  writes  Mr.  Gooch,  "that  nearly 
the  whole  of  the  working  and  other  drawings,  as  well  as  the  various 
land-plans  for  the  railway,  were  drawn  by  my  own  hand.  They 
were  done  at  the  company's  office  in  Clayton  Square  during  the  day, 
from  instructions  supplied  in  the  evenings  by  Mr.  Stephenson,  either 
by  word  of  mouth,  or  by  little,  rough  hand-sketches  on  letter-paper. 
The  evenings  were  also  generally  devoted  to  my  duties  as  secretary, 
in  writing  (mostly  from  his  own  dictation)  his  letters  and  reports,  or 
in  making  calculations  and  estimates.  The  mornings  before  break- 
fast were  not  unfrequently  spent  by  me  in  visiting,  and  lending  a 
helping  hand  in  the  tunnel  and  other  works  near  Liverpool — the  un- 
tiring zeal  and  perseverance  of  George  Stephenson  never  for  an  instant 
flagging,  and  inspiring  with  a  like  enthusiasm  all  who  were  engaged 
under  him  in  carrying  forward  the  works." 

Occasionally  he  mould  take  an  early  ride  before  breakfast,  to  in- 
spect the  progress  of  the  Sankey  viaduct.  He  had  a  favorite  horse, 


PLAIN     FOOD — SHREWD,    COMMON     SENSE.  157 

brought  by  him  from  Newcastle,  called  "Bobby" — so  tractable  that, 
with  his  rider  on  his  back,  he  would  walk  up  to  a  locomotive  with 
the  steam  blowing  off,  and  put  his  nose  against  it  without  shying. 
"Bobby,"  saddled  and  bridled,  was  brought  to  Stephenson's  door 
betimes  in  the  morning,  and,  mounting  him,  he  would  ride  the  fifteen 
miles  to  Sankey,  putting  up  at  a  little  public  house  which  then  stood 
upon  the  banks  of  the  canal.  There  he  had  his  breakfast  of  "  crowdy," 
which  he  made  with  his  own  hands.  It  consisted  of  oatmeal 
stirred  into  a  basin  of  hot  water — a  sort  of  porridge — which  was 
supped  with  cold  sweet  milk.  After  this  frugal  breakfast  he  would 
go  upon  the  works,  and  remain  there,  riding  from  point  to  point  for 
the  greater  part  of  the  day.  His  strong  natural  acumen  showed  itself 
even  in  such  matters  as  grammar  and  composition — a  department  of 
knowledge  in  which,  it  might  be  supposed,  he  could  scarcely  have 
had  either  time  or  opportunity  to  acquire  much  information.  But 
here,  as  in  all  other  things,  his  shrewd  common  sense  came  to  his 
help,  and  his  simple,  vigorous  English  might  almost  be  cited  as  a 
model  of  composition. 

He  delighted  to  test  the  knowledge  of  his  young  companions,  and 
to  question  them  upon  the  principles  of  mechanics.  If  they  were  not 
quite  "up  to  the  mark"  on  any  point,  there  was  no  escaping  detec- 
tion by  evasive  or  specious  explanations  on  their  part.  He  felt  that 
he  himself  had  been  made  stronger  and  better  through  his  encounters 
with  difficulty,  and  he  would  not  have  the  road  of  knowledge  made 
too  smooth  and  easy  for  them.  "Learn  for  yourselves — think  for 
yourselves,"  he  would  say:  "make  yourselves  masters  of  principles — 
persevere — be  industrious — and  there  is  then  no  fear  of  you."  And 
not  the  least  emphatic  proof  of  the  soundness  of  this  system  of  educa- 
tion, as  conducted  by  George  Stephenson,  was  afforded  by  the  after- 
history  of  the  pupils  themselves.  There  was  not  one  of  those  trained 
under  his  eye  who  did  not  rise  to  eminent  usefulness  and  distinction 
as  an  engineer. 

ROBERT  STEPHENSON'S   RESIDENCE  IN  COLOMBIA,  AND  RETURN — THE 
BATTLE  OF  THE  LOCOMOTIVE — "THE  ROCKET." 

Robert  Stephenson,  who  was  absent  from  England  during  the  con- 
struction of  the  Liverpool  Railway,  was  now  about  to  rejoin  his  father 
and  take  part  in  "the  battle  of  the  locomotive,"  which  was  impend- 
ing. On  his  return  from  Edinburgh  College,  at  the  end  of  1821,  he 
had  assisted  in  superintending  the  works  of  the  Hetton  Railway 
until  its  opening  in  1822,  after  which  he  proceeded  to  Liverpool  to 
take  part  with  Mr.  James  in  surveying  the  proposed  railway  there. 
In  the  following  year  he  was  assisting  his  father  in  the  working  sur- 
vey of  the  Stockton  and  Darlington  Railway ;  and  when  the  Loco- 
motive Engine  Works  were  started  in  Forth  Street,  Newcastle,  he 
took  an  active  part  in  that  concern.  "The  factory,"  he  says,  "was 
in  active  operation  in  1824;  I  left  England  for  Colombia  in  June  of 


158  GEORGE     STEPHENSON. 

that  year,  having  finished  drawing  the  designs  of  the  Brusselton 
stationary  engines  for  the  Stockton  and  Darlington  Railway  before  I 
left."  Speculation  was  very  rife  at  the  time,  and  among  the  most 
promising  adventures  were  the  companies  organized  for  the  purpose 
of  working  the  gold  and  silver  mines  of  South  America. 

The  Colombian  Mining  Association  of  London  offered  an  engage- 
ment to  young  Stephenson  to  go  out  to  Mariquita,  and  take  charge 
of  the  engineering  operations  of  that  company.  Robert  was  himself 
desirous  of  accepting  it,  but  his  father  said  it  would  first  be  necessary 
to  ascertain  whether  the  proposed  change  would  be  for  his  good.  His 
health  had  been  very  delicate  for  some  time,  partly  occasioned  by  his 
rapid  growth,  but  principally  because  of  his  close  application  to  work 
and  study.  Father  and  son  proceeded  together  to  call  upon  Dr. 
Headlam,  the  eminent  physician  of  Newcastle,  and  to  his  great  relief 
the  doctor  decided  that  a  temporary  residence  in  a  warm  climate  was 
the  very  thing  likely  to  be  most  beneficial  to  him. 

After  a  tolerably  prosperous  voyage,  he  landed  at  La  Guayra,  on 
the  north  coast  of  Venezuela,  on  the  23d  of  July;  from  thence  he 
proceeded  to  Caraccas,  the  capital  of  the  district,  fifteen  miles  inland. 
There  he  remained  two  months,  unable  to  proceed,  because  of  the 
wretched  state  of  the  roads.  About  the  beginning  of  October,  he  set 
out  on  mule-back  for  Bogota,  the  capital,  twelve  hundred  miles  dis- 
tant, through  a  very  difficult  region.  In  the  course  of  the  journey, 
Robert  visited  many  of  the  districts  reported  to  be  rich  in  minerals, 
but  he  met  with  few  traces,  except  of  copper,  iron,  and  coal,  with 
occasional  indications  of  gold  and  silver.  He  found  the  people  ready 
to  furnish  information,  which,  however,  when  tested,  usually  proved 
worthless.  A  guide,  whom  he  employed  for  weeks,  kept  him  buoyed 
up  with  the  hope  of  finding  richer  mining  places  than  he  had  yet 
seen  ;  but  when  he  professed  to  be  able  to  show  him  mines  of"  brass, 
steel,  alcohol,  and  pinchbeck,"  Stephenson  discovered  him  to  be  an 
incorrigible  rogue,  and  dismissed  him.  At  length  he  reached  Bogota, 
and  after  an  interview  with  Mr.  Illingworth,  the  commercial  manager 
of  the  Mining  Company,  he  proceeded  to  Honda,  crossed  the  Mag- 
dalena,  and  shortly  after  reached  the  site  of  his  intended  operations 
on  the  eastern  slope  of  the  Andes. 

Robert  Stephenson's  residence  in  Colombia  was  not  without  disa- 
greeable incidents ;  his  men  were  intemperate  and  unruly ;  the  cap- 
tain of  the  miners  quarreled  and  fought  with  the  men,  and  was  inso- 
lent to  his  chief.  Disease  also  fell  upon  Mr.  Stephenson — first, 
fever,  and  then  visceral  derangement,  followed  by  a  return  of  his 
"old  complaint,  a  feeling  of  oppression  in  the  breast."  No  wonder 
that  in  the  midst  of  these  troubles  he  grew  home-sick ;  he  had  stuck 
to  his  post,  his  duty,  and  kept  up  his  courage ;  and  by  mildness,  firm- 
ness, and  the  display  of  cool  judgment,  he  contrived  to  keep  the  men 
to  their  work,  and  gradually  carry  forward  the  enterprise.  By  July, 
1826,  quietness  and  order  were  restored,  and  the  works  were  proceed- 


ROBERT     IN     SOUTH     AMERICA. 


J59 


ing  more  satisfactorily,  though  the  yield  of  silver  was  not  as  yet  very 
promising;  his  opinion  was  that  at  least  three  years'  diligent  and 
costly  operations  would  be  necessary  to  render  the  mines  productive. 

Meanwhile  he  removed  to  the  dwelling  erected  for  his  accommoda- 
tion at  Santa  Anna.  The  structure,  after  the  fashion  of  the  country, 
was  of  split  and  flattened  bamboo,  tied  together  with  the  long  fibers  of 
a  dried  climbing  plant ;  the  roof  was  of  palm-leaves,  and  the  ceiling 
of  reeds.  When  an  earthquake  shakes  the  district,  the  inmates  of  such 
a  fabric  merely  feel  as  if  shaken  in  a  basket.  In  front  of  the  cottage 
lay  a  woody  ravine,  extending  almost  to  the  base  of  the  Andes,  gor- 
geously clothed  in  primeval  vegetation — magnolias,  palms,  bamboos, 
tree-ferns,  acacias,  cedars ;  and  towering  over  all  were  the  great  almen- 
drons,  with  their  smooth,  silvery  stems,  bearing  aloft  noble  clusters 
of  pure  white  blossom.  The  forest  was  haunted  by  myriads  of  gay 
insects,  butterflies  with  wings  of  dazzling  luster,  birds  of  brilliant 
plumage,  humming-birds,  golden  orioles,  toucans,  and  a  host  of  sol- 
itary warblers.  But  the  glorious  sunsets  seen  from  his  cottage-porch 
more  than  all  astonished  and  delighted  the  young  engineer,  and  he 
was  accustomed  to  say  that,  after  having  witnessed  them,  he  was  re- 
luctant to  accuse  the  ancient  Peruvians  of  idolatry. 

But  all  these  natural  beauties  failed  to  reconcile  him  to  the  harass- 
ing difficulties  of  his  position,  which  continued  to  increase  rather 
than  diminish.  He,  therefore,  determined  to  leave  at  the  end  of  his 
three  years'  engagement,  and  communicated  his  decision  to  the  di- 
rectors accordingly. 

In  a  letter  to  Mr.  Illingworth,  then  resident  at  Bogota,  dated  the 
24th  of  March,  1826,  Robert  wrote  as  follows:  "Nothing  but  the 
fullest  consent  of  my  partners  in  England  could  induce  me  to  stay  in 
this  country,  and  the  assurance  that  no  absolute  necessity  existed  to 
call  me  home.  I  must  also  have  the  consent  of  my  father.  I  know 
that  he  must  have  suffered  severely  from  my  absence,  but  that  having 
been  extended  so  far  beyond  the  period  he  was  led  to  expect,  may 
have  induced  him  to  curtail  his  plans,  which,  had  they  been  accom- 
plished, as  they  would  have  been  by  my  assistance,  would  have  placed 
us  both  in  a  situation  far  superior  to  any  thing  that  I  can  hope  for  as 
the  servant  of  an  association  however  wealthy  and  liberal.  What  I 
might  do  in  England  is,  perhaps,  known  to  myself  only;  it  is  diffi- 
cult, therefore,  for  the  association  to  calculate  upon  rewarding  me  to 
the  full  extent  of  my  prospects  at  home.  My  prosperity  is  involved 
in  that  of  my  father,  whose  property  was  sacrificed  in  laying  the 
foundations  of  an  establishment  for  me ;  his  capital  being  invested  in 
a  concern  which  requires  the  greatest  attention,  and  which,  with  our 
personal  superintendence,  could  not  fail  to  secure  that  independence 
which  forms  so  principally  the  object  of  all  our  toil." 

On  receiving  his  letter,  the  board,  through  Mr.  Richardson,  of 
Lombard  Street,  one  of  the  directors,  communicated  with  his  father 
at  Newcastle,  representing  that  if  he  would  allow  his  son  to  remain 


160  GEORGE     STEPHENSON. 

in  Colombia  the  company  would  make  it  "  worth  his  while."  To  this 
the  father  gave  a  decided  negative,  and  intimated  that  he  himself 
urgently  needed  his  son's  assistance,  and  that  he  must  return  at  the 
close  of  his  three  years'  term — a  decision,  Robert  wrote,  "at  which 
I  feel  much  gratified,  as  it  is  clear  that  he  is  as  anxious  to  have  me 
back  in  England  as  I  am  to  get  there." 

At  the  same  time,  Edward  Pease,  partner  in  the  Newcastle  firm, 
wrote  Robert  to  the  following  effect :  "I  can  assure  thee  that  the 
business  at  Newcastle,  as  well  as  thy  father's  engineering,  have  suffered 
very  much  from  thy  absence,  and,  unless  thou  soon  return,  the  former 
will  be  given  up,  as  Mr.  Longridge  is  not  able  to  give  it  that  atten- 
tion it  requires;  and  what  is  done  is  not  done  with  credit  to  the 
house."  The  idea  of  the  manufactory  being  given  up,  which  Robert 
had  labored  so  hard  to  establish,  was  painful  in  the  extreme,  and  he 
wrote  to  Mr.  Illingworth,  urging  that  arrangements  be  made  enabling 
him  to  leave  without  delay.  Meantime  he  was  prostrated  by  another 
violent  attack  of  aguish  fever;  and  when  able,  wrote,  June,  1827, 
that  he  was  "completely  wearied  and  worn  down  with  vexation." 

At  length,  when  sufficiently  recovered  from  his  attack,  he  set  out 
on  his  voyage  homeward  in  the  beginning  of  August.  At  Mompox, 
on  his  way  down  the  river  Magdalena,  he  met  Mr.  Bodmer,  his  suc- 
cessor, with  a  fresh  party  of  Miners  from  England,  on  their  way  up 
the  country  to  the  quarters  which  he  had  just  quitted.  Next  day  a 
steam-boat  was  met  ascending  the  river,  with  Bolivar  the  Liberator  on 
board,  on  his  way  to  Bogota;  and  it  was  a  mortification  to  our  en- 
gineer that  he  had  only  a  passing  sight  of  that  distinguished  man. 

Arrived  at  the  port  of  Carthagena,  on  his  return,  he  found  himself 
under  the  necessity  of  waiting  some  time  for  a  ship.  The  delay  was 
very  irksome  to  him,  the  more  so  as  the  place  was  then  desolated  by 
the  ravages  of  the  yellow  fever.  While  sitting  one  day  in  the  large, 
bare,  comfortless  public  room  of  the  miserable  hotel  at  which  he  put 
up,  he  observed  two  strangers,  whom  he  at  once  perceived  to  be  Eng- 
lish. One  of  the  strangers  was  a  tall,  gaunt  man,  shrunken  and  hol- 
low-looking, shabbily  dressed,  and  apparently  poverty-stricken.  On 
making  inquiry,  he  found  it  was  Trevithick,  the  builder  of  the  first 
railroad  locomotive !  He  was  returning  home  from  the  gold  mines 
of  Peru  penniless.  Robert  Stephenson  lent  him  507.  to  enable  him 
to  reach  England ;  and  though  he  was  afterward  heard  of  as  an  in- 
ventor there,  he  had  no  farther  part  in  the  ultimate  triumph  of  the 
locomotive.  But  Trevithick's  misadventures  on.this  occasion  had  not 
yet  ended ;  for  before  he  reached  New  York  he  was  wrecked,  and 
Robert  Stephenson  with  him. 

After  a  short  tour  in  the  United  States  and  Canada,  Robert  Steph- 
enson and  his  friend  took  ship  for  Liverpool,  where  they  arrived  at 
the  end  of  November,  and  at  once  proceeded  to  Newcastle.  The 
factory,  we  have  seen,  was  by  no  means  in  a  prosperous  state.  During 
the  time  Robert  had  been  in  America  it  had  been  carried  on  at  a 


LOCOMOTIVE     WORKS.  l6l 

considerable  loss ;  and  Edward  Pease,  very  much  disheartened,  wished 
to  retire  from  it,  but  George  Stephenson  being  unable  to  raise  the 
requisite  money  to  buy  him  out,  the  establishment  was  of  necessity 
carried  on  by  its  then  partners  until  the  locomotive  could  be  estab- 
lished in  public  estimation  as  a  practicable  and  economical  working 
power.  Robert  Stephenson  immediately  instituted  a  rigid  inquiry 
into  the  workings  of  the  concern,  unraveled  the  accounts,  which  had 
been  allowed  to  fall  into  confusion  during  his  father's  absence  at  Liv- 
erpool, and  very  shortly  succeeded  in  placing  the  affairs  of  the  fac- 
tory in  a  more  healthy  condition.  In  all  this  he  had  the  hearty  sup- 
port of  his  father,  as  well  as  of  the  other  partners. 

The  works  of  the  Liverpool  and  Manchester  Railway  were  now 
approaching  completion.  But  the  directors  had  not  yet  decided  as 
to  the  motive  power  to  be  employed  in  working  the  line.  The  dif- 
ferences of  opinion  were  apparently  irreconcilable.  It  was  necessary, 
however,  to  come  to  some  decision  without  loss  of  time,  and  many 
board  meetings  were  held  to  discuss  the  subject.  The  old-fashioned 
horse  system  was  not  without  advocates;  but,  looking  at  the  large 
traffic  there  was  likely  to  be,  and  the  probable  delays  in  transit,  if 
this  method  were  adopted,  the  directors  concluded  that  the  employ- 
ment of  horse-power  was  inadmissible. 

Fixed  engines  had  many  advocates;  the  locomotive  very  few:  it 
stood  as  yet  almost  in  a  minority  of  one — George  Stephenson.  It 
may  be  mentioned  that  the  Newcastle  and  Carlisle  Railway  Act  was 
conceded  in  1829  on  the  express  condition  that  it  should  not  be 
worked  my  locomotives,  but  by  horses  only. 

Grave  doubts  still  existed  as  to  the  practicability  of  working  a  large 
traffic  by  means  of  traveling  engines.  The  most  celebrated  engineers 
did  not  believe  in  the  locomotive,  and  would  scarcely  take  the  trou- 
ble to  examine  it.  The  ridicule  with  which  George  Stephenson  had 
been  assailed  by  the  barristers  before  the  Parliamentary  Committee 
had  not  been  altogether  distasteful  to  them.  Perhaps  they  did  not 
relish  the  idea  of  a  man  who  had  picked  up  his  experience  in  New- 
castle coal-pits  appearing  in  the  capacity  of  a  leading  engineer  before 
Parliament,  and  attempting  to  establish  a  new  system. 

The  directors  could  not  disregard  the  adverse  and  conflicting  views 
of  the  professional  men  whom  they  consulted.  But  Stephenson  had 
so  repeatedly  and  earnestly  urged  upon  them  the  propriety  of  making 
a  trial  of  the  locomotive  before  coming  to  any  decision  against  it, 
that  they  authorized  him  to  proceed  with  the  construction  of  one  of 
his  engines  by  way  of  experiment.  In  their  annual  report,  March 
27th,  1828,  they  state  that  they  had,  after  due  consideration,  author- 
ized the  engineer  "  to  prepare  a  locomotive  engine,  which,  from  the 
nature  of  its  construction,  and  from  experiments  already  made,  he  is 
of  opinion  will  be  effective  for  the  purposes  of  the  company,  without 
proving  an  annoyance  to  the  public."  The  locomotive  thus  ordered  was 
ii 


162  GEORGE      STEPHENSON. 

placed  upon  the  line  in  1829,  and  was  found  of  great  service  in 
drawing  wagons  full  of  marl  from  the  cuttings. 

Meantime  the  discussion  proceeded  as  to  the  power  to  be  per- 
manently employed.  The  directors  were  inundated  with  schemes  of 
all  sorts.  The  projectors  of  England,  France,  and  America  seemed 
to  be  let  loose  upon  them.  There  were  plans  for  working  the  wagons 
along  the  line  by  water-power.  Some  proposed  hydrogen,  and  others 
carbonic  acid,  gas.  Atmospheric  pressure  had  its  eager  advocates. 
And  various  kinds  of  fixed  and  locomotive  steam-power  were  sug- 
gested. Thomas  Gray  urged  his  plan  of  a  greased  road  with  cog- 
rails  ;  and  Messrs.  Vignolles  and  Ericsson  recommended  the  adoption 
of  a  central  friction-rail,  against  which  two  horizontal  rollers  under 
the  locomotive,  pressing  upon  the  sides  of  this  rail,  were  to  afford 
the  means  of  ascending  the  inclined  planes. 

The  directors  felt  unable  to  choose  from  amid  these  projects.  Their 
engineer  expressed  himself  decidedly  in  favor  of  smooth  rails  and 
locomotive  engines,  confident  that  they  would  be  found  the  most 
economical  and  by  far  the  most  convenient  moving  power.  The 
Darlington  Railway  being  now  at  work,  a  deputation  went  down  to 
inspect  the  fixed  and  locomotive  engines  on  that  line,  as  well  as  at 
Hetton  and  Killingworth.  They  returned  with  much  information  ; 
but  their  testimony  as  to  the  relative  merits  of  the  two  kinds  of 
engines  was  so  contradictory,  that  the  directors  were  as  far  as  ever 
from  a  decision. 

They  then  resolved  to  call  to  their  aid  two  professional  engineers 
of  high  standing,  who  should  visit  the  Darlington  and  Newcastle  rail- 
ways, carefully  examine  both  modes,  and  report  to  them  fully  on  the 
subject.  The  gentlemen  selected  were  Mr.  Walker,  of  Limehouse, 
and  Mr.  Rastrick,  of  Stourbridge.  After  careful  examination,  they 
made  their  report  in  the  spring  of  1829.  They  concurred  in  the  opinion 
that  the  cost  of  an  establishment  of  fixed  engines  would  be  somewhat 
greater  than  that  of  locomotives  to  do  the  same  work,  but  they 
thought  the  annual  charge  would  be  less  if  the  former  were  adopted. 
It  was  admitted  that  there  appeared  more  grounds  for  expecting  im- 
provements in  the  construction  and  working  of  locomotives  than  of 
stationary  engines.  "  On  the  whole,  however,  and  looking  especially 
at  the  computed  annual  charge  of  working  the  road  on  the  two  sys- 
tems, on  a  large  scale,  Messrs.  Walker  and  Rastrick  were  of  opinion 
that  fixed  engines  were  preferable,  and  accordingly  recommended 
their  adoption  to  the  directors.  And  in  order  to  carry  the  system 
recommended  by  them  into  effect,  they  proposed  to  divide  the  rail- 
road into  nineteen  stages  of  about  a  mile  and  a  half  each,  with  twenty- 
one  engines  fixed  at  the  different  points  to  work  the  trains  forward. 

Such  was  the  result,  so  far,  of  George  Stephenson's  labors.  The 
two  best  practical  engineers  of  the  day  concurred  in  reporting  sub- 
stantially in  favor  of  the  employment  of  fixed  engines.  Not  a  single 
professional  man  of  eminence  could  be  found  to  coincide  with  the 


STATIONARY     ENGINES,     OR     LOCOMOTIVES.        163 

engineer  of  the  railway  in  his  preference  for  locomotive  over  fixed 
engine  power.  He  had  scarcely  a  supporter,  and  the  locomotive 
system  seemed  on  the  eve  of  being  abandoned.  Still  he  did  not  de- 
spair. With  the  profession  against  him,  and  public  opinion  against 
him — for  the  most  frightful  stories  went  abroad  respecting  the  dangers, 
the  unsightliness,  and  the  nuisance  which  the  locomotive  would  create 
— Stephenson  held  to  his  purpose.  Even  in  this,  apparently  the 
darkest  hour  of  the  locomotive,  he  did  not  hesitate  to  declare  that 
locomotive  railroads  would,  before  many  years  had  passed,  be  "  the 
great  highways  of  the  world." 

He  urged  his  views  in  all  ways,  in  season,  and,  as  some  of  them 
thought,  out  of  season.  He  pointed  out  the  greater  convenience  of 
locomotive  power  for  the  purposes  of  a  public  highway,  likening  it  to 
a  series  of  short,  unconnected  chains,  any  one  of  which  could  be  re- 
moved and  another  substituted,  without  interruption  to  the  traffic; 
whereas  the  fixed-engine  system  might  be  regarded  in  the  light  of  a 
continuous  chain  extending  between  the  two  termini,  the  failure  of 
any  link  of  which  would  derange  the  whole.  But  the  fixed-engine 
party  were  very  strong  at  the  board,  and,  led  by  Mr.  Cropper,  they 
urged  the  propriety  of  forthwith  adopting  the  report  of  Messrs.  Walker 
and  Rastrick.  Mr.  Sandars  and  Mr.  William  Rathbone,  on  the  other 
hand,  desired  that  a  fair  trial  should  be  given  to  the  locomotive ;  and 
they  objected  to  the  expenditure  of  the  large  capital  necessary  to 
construct  engine-houses,  with  their  fixed  engines,  ropes,  and  ma- 
chinery, until  they  had  tested  the  powers  of  the  locomotive  as  recom- 
mended by  their  own  engineer.  George  Stephenson  continued  to 
urge  upon  them  that  the  locomotive  was  yet  capable  of  great  improve- 
ments, if  proper  inducements  were  held  out  to  inventors  and  ma- 
chinists to  make  them ;  and  he  pledged  himself  that,  if  time  were 
given  him,  he  would  construct  an  engine  that  should  satisfy  their  re- 
quirements, and  prove  itself  capable  of  working  heavy  loads  along  the 
railway  with  speed,  regularity,  and  safety.  At  length,  influenced  by 
his  persistent  earnestness  not  less  than  by  his  arguments,  the  directors, 
at  the  suggestion  of  Mr.  Harrison,  determined  to  offer  a  prize  of  5oo/. 
for  the  best  locomotive  engine,  which,  on  a  certain  day,  should  be 
produced  on  the  railway,  and  perform  certain  specified  conditions  in 
the  most  satisfactory  manner. 

The  requirements  of  the  directors  as  to  speed  were  not  excessive. 
All  that  they  asked  for  was  that  ten  miles  an  hour  should  be  main- 
tained. Perhaps  they  had  in  mind  the  animadversions  of  the 
"  Quarterly  Reviewer,"  on  the  absurdity  of  traveling  at  a  greater 
velocity,  and  also  the  remarks  published  by  Mr.  Nicholas  Wood, 
whom  they  selected  to  be  one  of  the  judges  of  the  competition,  in 
conjunction  with  Mr.  Rastrick,  of  Stourbridge,  and  Mr.  Kennedy, 
of  Manchester. 

It  was  now  felt  that  the  fate  of  railways  in  a  great  measure  de- 
pended upon  the  issue  of  this  appeal  to  the  mechanical  genius  of  Eng- 


164  GEORGE     STEPHENSON. 

land.  When  the  advertisement  of  th*e  prize  for  the  best  locomotive 
was  published,  scientific  men  began  more  particularly  to  direct  their 
attention  to  the  new  power  which  was  thus  struggling  into  existence. 
In  the  mean  time  public  opinion,  on  the  subject  of  railway  working 
remained  suspended,  and  the  progress  of  the  undertaking  was  watched 
with  intense  interest. 

During  the  progress  of  this  important  controversy  George  Stephen- 
son  was  in  constant  communication  with  his  son  Robert,  who  made 
frequent  visits  to  Liverpool,  to  assist  his  father  in  the  preparation  of 
his  reports  to  the  board  on  the  subject.  Mr.  Swanwick  remembers 
the  vivid  interest  of  the  evening  discussions  which  then  took  place 
between  father  and  son  as  to  the  best  mode  of  increasing  the  powers 
and  perfecting  the  mechanism  of  the  locomotive.  He  wondered  at 
their  quick  perception  and  rapid  judgment  on  each  other's  sugges- 
tions; at  the  mechanical  difficulties  which  they  anticipated  and  pro- 
vided for  in  the  practical  arrangement  of  the  machine  ;  and  he  speaks 
of  these  evenings  as  most  interesting  displays  of  two  actively  ingenious 
and  able  minds  stimulating  each  other  to  feats  of  mechanical  inven- 
tion, by  which  it  was  ordained  that  the  locomotive  engine  should 
become  what  it  now  is.  These  discussions  became  more  frequent, 
and  still  more  interesting,  after  the  public  prize  had  been  offered  for 
the  best  locomotive  by  the  directors  of  the  railway,  and  the  working 
plans  of  the  engine,  which  they  proposed  to  construct,  had  to  be 
settled. 

One  of  the  most  important  considerations  in  the  new  engine  was 
the  arrangement  of  the  boiler  and  the  extension  of  its  heating  surface, 
to  enable  steam  enough  to  be  raised  rapidly  and  continuously,  foi 
the  purpose  of  maintaining  high  rates  of  speed.  The  quantity  of 
steam  generated  must  chiefly  depend  upon  the  quantity  of  fuel  con- 
sumed in  the  furnace,  and,  by  necessary  consequence,  upon  the  high 
rate  of  temperature  maintained. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  in  Stephenson's  first  Killingworth 
engines  he  stimulated  combustion  in  the  furnace  by  throwing  the 
waste  steam  into  the  chimney,  thereby  accelerating  the  ascent  of  the 
current  of  air,  greatly  increasing  the  draught,  and  consequently  the 
temperature  of  the  fire.  This  plan  was  adopted  as  early  as  1815,  and 
was  so  successful  that  he  attributed  to  it  the  greater  economy  of  the 
locomotive  as  compared  with  horse-power.  Hence  its  continuance 
upon  the  Killingworth  Railway.  Though  this  steam-blast  greatly 
quickened  combustion  and  contributed  to  the  rapid  production  of 
high-pressure  steam,  the  limited  amount  of  heating  surface  presented 
to  the  fire  was  still  felt  to  be  an  obstacle  to  the  complete  success  of 
the  locomotive  engine.  Mr.  Stephenson  endeavored  to  overcome  this 
by  lengthening  the  boilers  and  increasing  the  surface  by  the  flue- 
tubes.  The  "Lancashire  Witch,"  which  he  built  for  the  Bolton 
Railway,  and  used  in  forming  the  Liverpool  and  Manchester  embank- 
ments, was  constructed  with  a  double  tube,  each  of  which  contained 


TUBULAR  •  BOI  LERS.  165 

a  fire,  and  passed  longitudinally  through  the  boiler.  But  this  arrange- 
ment necessarily  led  to  a  considerable  increase  in  the  weight  of  those 
engines,  which  amounted  to  about  twelve  tons  each  ;  and  as  six  tons 
was  the  limit  allowed  for  engines  admitted  to  the  Liverpool  competi- 
tion, it  was  clear  that  the  time  was  come  when  the  Killingworth  en- 
gine must  undergo  a  farther  important  modification. 

For  many  years  ingenious  mechanics  had  been  engaged  in  attempt- 
ing to  solve  the  problem  of  the  best  and  most  economical  boiler  for 
the  production  of  high-pressure  steam.  The  use  of  tubes  in  boilers 
for  increasing  the  heating  surface  had  long  been  known.  As  early  as 
1 780,  Matthew  Boulton  employed  copper  tubes  longitudinally  in  the 
boiler  of  the  Wheal  Busy  engine  in  Cornwall — the  fire  passing  through 
the  tubes — and  it  was  found  that  the  production  of  steam  was  thereby 
considerably  increased.*  The  use  of  tubular  boilers  afterward  became 
common  in  Cornwall.  In  1815,  Trevithick  invented  his  light  high- 
pressure  boiler  for  portable  purposes,  in  which,  to  "  expose  a  large 
surface  to  the  fire,"  he  constructed  the  boiler  of  a  number  of  small 
perpendicular  tubes  "opening  into  a  common  reservoir  at  the  top." 
In  1823,  W.  H.  James  contrived  a  boiler  composed  of  a  series  of  an- 
nular wrought-iron  tubes,  placed  side  by  side,  and  bolted  together,  so 
as  to  form  by  their  union  a  long  cylindrical  boiler,  in  the  center  of 
which,  at  the  end,  the  fire-place  was  situated.  The  fire  played  round 
the  tubes,  which  contained  the  water.  In  1826,  James  Neville  took 
out  a  patent  for  a  boiler  with  vertical  tubes  surrounded  by  the  water, 
through  which  the  heated  air  of  the  furnace  passed,  explaining  also, 
in  his  specification,  that  the  tubes  might  be  horizontal  or  inclined, 
according  to  circumstances.  Mr.  Goldsworthy  Gurney,  the  persever- 
ing adaptor  of  steam  carriages  to  traveling  on  common  roads,  applied 
the  tubular  principle  in  the  boiler  of  his  engine,  in  which  the  steam 
was  generated  within  the  tubes  ;  while  the  boiler  invented  by  Messrs. 
Summers  and  Ogle  for  their  turnpike-road  steam  carriage  consisted  of 
a  series  of  tubes  placed  vertically  over  the  furnace,  through  which 
the  heated  air  passed  before  reaching  the  chimney. 

About  the  same  time  George  Stephenson  was  trying  the  effect  of 
introducing  small  tubes  in  the  boilers  of  his  locomotives,  with  the 
object  of  increasing  their  evaporative  power.  In  1829,  he  sent  to 
France  two  engines,  constructed  at  the  Newcastle  works  for  the  Lyons 
and  St.  Etienne  Railway,  in  the  boilers  of  which  tubes  were  placed 
containing  water.  The  heating  surface  was  thus  considerably  increased  ; 
but  the  expedient  was  not  successful,  for  the  tubes,  becoming  furred 
with  deposit,  shortly  burned  out  and  were  removed.  It  was  then 

*  Some  correspondence  took  place  between  Boulton  and  Watt  on  the  subject, 
when  the  latter  was  scheming  the  application  of  the  steam-engine  to  locomotive  pur- 
poses. In  a  letter  to  Boulton,  dated  the  2yth  of  August,  1784,  Watt  said,  "  Perhaps 
some  means  may  be  hit  upon  to  make  the  boiler  cylindrical  with  a  number  of  tuba 
passing  through,  like  the  organ-pipe  condenser,  whereby  it  might  be  thinner  and 
lighter;  but,"  he  added,  "  I  fear  this  would  be  too  subject  to  accidents." 


l66  GEORGE     STEPHENSON. 

that  M.  Seguin,  the  engineer  of  the  railway,  is  said  to  have  adopted 
his  plan  of  employing  horizontal  tubes  through  which  the  heated  air 
passed  in  streamlets,  and  for  which  he  took  out  a  French  patent. 

In  the  mean  time,  Mr.  Henry  Booth,  whose  attention  had  been  di- 
rected to  the  subject,  on  the  prize  being  offered  for  the  best  locomo- 
tive to  work  that  line,  proposed  the  same  method  which,  unknown 
to  him,  Matthew  Boulton  had  employed,  but  not  patented,  in  1780, 
and  James  Neville  had  patented,  but  not  employed,  in  1826;  and  it 
was  carried  into  effect  by  Robert  Stephenson  in  the  construction  of 
the  "Rocket,"  which  won  the  prize  at  Rainhill  in  October,  1829. 
The  following  is  Mr.  Booth's  account  in  a  letter: 

"I  was  in  almost  daily  communication  with  Mr.  Stephenson  at 
the  time,  and  I  was  not  aware  that  he  had  any  intention  of  competing 
for  the  prize  till  I  communicated  to  him  my  scheme  of  a  multitubular 
boiler.  This  new  plan  of  boiler  comprised  the  introduction  of  nu- 
merous small  tubes,  two  or  three  inches  in  diameter,  and  less  than 
one-eighth  of  an  inch  thick,  through  which  to  carry  the  fire,  instead 
of  a  single  tube  or  flue  eighteen  inches  in  diameter,  and  about  half 
an  inch  thick,  by  which  plan  we  not  only  obtain  a  very  much  larger 
heating  surface,  but  the  heating  surface  is  much  more  effective,  as 
there  intervenes  between  the  fire  and  the  water  only  a  thin  sheet  of  cop- 
per or  brass,  not  an  eighth  of  an  inch  thick,  instead  of  a  plate  of 
iron  of  four  times  the  substance,  as  well  as  an  inferior  conductor  of 
heat. 

"  When  the  conditions  of  trial  were  published,  I  communicated  my 
multitubular  plan  to  Mr.  Stephenson,  and  proposed  to  him  that  we 
should  jointly  construct  an  engine,  and  compete  for  the  prize.  Mr. 
Stephenson  approved  the  plan,  anfl  agreed  to  my  .proposal.  He  set- 
tled the  mode  in  which  the  fire-box  and  tubes  were  to  be  mutually 
arranged  and  connected,  and  the  engine  was  constructed  at  the 
works  of  Messrs.  Robert  Stephenson  &  Co.,  Newcastle-on-Tyne. 

"  I  am  ignorant  of  M.  Seguin 's  proceedings  in  France,  but  I  claim 
to  be  the  inventor  in  England,  and  feel  warranted  in  stating,  without 
reservation,  that,  until  I  named  my  plan  to  Mr.  Stephenson,  with  a 
view  to  compete  for  the  prize  at  Rainhill,  it  had  not  been  tried,  and 
was  not  known,  in  this  country." 

From  the  well  known  high  character  of  Mr.  Booth,  we  believe  his 
statement  to  be  made  in  perfect  good  faith,  and  that  he  was  as  much 
in  ignorance  of  the  plan  patented  by  Neville  as  he  was  of  that  of 
Seguin.  As  we  have  seen,  from  the  many  plans  of  tubular  boilers 
invented  during  the  preceding  thirty  years,  the  idea  was  not  new ; 
and  we  believe  Mr.  Booth  entitled  to  the  merit  of  inventing  the 
method  which  was  so  effectually  applied  in  the  construction  of  the 
famous  "Rocket"  engine. 

The  circumstances  connected  with  the  construction  of  the  "Rocket," 
as  described  by  Robert  Stephenson,  may  be  briefly  stated.  The  tub- 
ular principle  was  adopted  in  a  more  complete  manner  than  had  yet 


STEAM-BLAST     INVENTION.  167 

been  attempted.  Twenty-five  copper  tubes,  each  three  inches  in 
diameter,  extended  from  one  end  of  the  boiler  to  the  other,  the  heated 
air  passing  through  them  on  its  way  to  the  chimney ;  and  the  tubes 
being  surrounded  by  the  water  of  the  boiler,  it  will  be  obvious  that  a 
large  extension  of  the  heating  surface  was  thus  effectually  secured. 
The  principal  difficulty  was  in  fitting  the  copper  tubes  in  the  boiler- 
ends  so  as  to  prevent  leakage.  They  were  manufactured  by  a  New- 
castle coppersmith,  and  soldered  to  brass  screws  which  were  screwed 
into  the  boiler-ends,  standing  out  in  great  knobs.  When  the  tubes 
were  thus  fitted,  and  the  boiler  was  filled  with  water,  hydraulic  press- 
ure was  applied ;  but  the  water  squirted  out  at  every  joint,  and  the 
factory  floor  was  soon  flooded.  Robert  went  home  in  despair ;  and, 
in  the  first  moment  of  grief,  he  wrote  to  his  father  that  the  whole 
thing  was  a  failure.  By  return  of  post  came  a  letter  from  his  father, 
telling  him  that  despair  was  not  to  be  thought  of — that  he  must  "  try 
again;"  and  he  suggested  a  mode  of  overcoming  the  difficulty, 
which  his  son  had  already  anticipated  and  proceeded  to  adopt.  It 
was,  to  bore  clean  holes  in  the  boiler-ends,  fit  in  the  smooth  copper 
tubes  as  tightly  as  possible,  solder  up,  and  then  raise  the  steam.  This 
plan  succeeded  perfectly,  the  expansion  of  the  copper  tubes  com- 
pletely filling  up  all  interstices,  and  producing  a  perfectly  water-tight 
boiler,  capable  of  withstanding  extreme  external  pressure. 

The  mode  of  employing  the  steam-blast  for  the  purpose  of  increas- 
ing the  draught  in  the  chimney  was  also  the  subject  of  numerous  ex- 
periments. When  the  engine  was  first  tried,  it  was  thought  that  the 
blast  in  the  chimney  was  not  sufficiently  strong  for  the  purpose  of 
keeping  up  the  intensity  of  the  fire  in  the  furnace,  so  as  to  produce 
steam  with  the  required  velocity.  The  expedient  was,  therefore, 
adopted,  of  hammering  the  copper  tubes  at  the  point  at  which  they 
entered  the  chimney,  whereby  the  blast  was  considerably  sharpened ; 
and  on  a  farther  trial  it  was  found  that  the  draught  was  increased  to 
such  an  extent  as  to  enable  abundance  of  steam  to  be  raised.  The 
rationale  of  the  blast  may  be  explained  by  referring  to  the  effect  of 
contracting  the  pipe  of  a  water-hose,  by  which  the  force  of  the  jet 
of  water  is  proportionately  increased.  Widen  the  nozzle  of  the  pipe 
and  the  jet  is  in  like  manner  diminished.  So  it  is  with  the  steam- 
blast  in  the  chimney  of  the  locomotive. 

Doubts  were,  however,  expressed,  whether  the  greater  draught  ob- 
tained by  the  contraction  of  the  blast-pipe  was  not  counterbalanced 
in  some  degree  by  the  negative  pressure  upon  the  piston.  Hence  a 
series  of  experiments  was  made  with  pipes  of  different  diameters, 
and  their  efficiency  was  tested  by  the  amount  of  vacuum  that  was  pro- 
duced in  the  smoke-box.  The  degree  of  rarefaction  was  determined 
by  a  glass  tube  fixed  to  the  bottom  of  the  smoke-box,  and  descend- 
ing into  a  bucket  of  water,  the  tube  being  open  at  both  ends.  As 
the  rarefaction  took  place,  the  water  would,  of  course,  rise  in  the  tube, 
and  the  height  to  which  it  rose  above  the  surface  of  the  water  in  the 


168  GEORGE     STEPHENSON. 

bucket  was  made  the  measure  of  the  amount  of  rarefaction.  These 
experiments  proved  that  a  considerable  increase  of  draught  was  ob- 
tained by  the  contraction  of  the  orifice;  accordingly,  the  two  blast- 
pipes,  opening  from  the  cylinders  into  either  side  of  the  "Rocket" 
chimney,  and  turned  up  within  it,  were  contracted  slightly  below  the 
area  of  the  steam-ports ;  and,  before  the  engine  left  the  factory,  the 
water  rose  in  the  glass  tube  three  inches  above  the  water  in  the  bucket. 

The  other  arrangements  of  the  "Rocket"  were  briefly  these:  the 
boiler  was  cylindrical,  with  flat  ends,  six  feet  in  length,  and  three  feet 
four  inches  in  diameter.  The  upper  half  of  the  boiler  was  used  as  a 
reservoir  for  the  steam,  the  lower  half  being  filled  with  water. 
Through  the  lower  part  the  copper  tubes  extended,  being  open  to  the 
fire-box  at  one  end  and  to  the  chimney  at  the  other.  The  fire-box, 
or  furnace,  two  feet  wide  and  three  feet  high,  was  attached  immedi- 
ately behind  the  boiler,  and  was  also  surrounded  with  water.  The 
cylinders  of  the  engine  were  placed  on  each  side  of  the  boiler,  in  an 
oblique  position,  one  end  being  nearly  level  with  the  top  of  the 
boiler  at  its  after  end,  and  the  other  pointing  toward  the  center  of 
the  foremost  or  driving  pair  of  wheels,  with  which  the  connection  was 
directly  made  from  the  piston-rod  to  a  pin  on  the  outside  of  the  wheel. 
The  engine,  together  with  its  load  of  water,  weighed  only  four  tons 
and  a  quarter;  and  it  was  supported  on  four  wheels,  not  coupled. 
The  tender  was  four-wheeled,  and  similar  in  shape  to  a  wagon — the 
foremost  part  holding  the  fuel,  and  the  hind  part  a  water-cask. 

When  the  "Rocket"  was  finished,  it  was  placed  upon  the  Killing- 
worth  Railway  for  the  purpose  of  experiment.  The  new  boiler  ar- 
rangement was  found  perfectly  successful.  The  steam  was  raised 
rapidly  and  continuously,  and  in  a  quantity  which  then  appeared 
marvelous.  The  same  evening  Robert  dispatched  a  letter  to  his  fa- 
ther at  Liverpool,  informing  him,  to  his  great  joy,  that  the  "Rocket" 
was  "all  right,"  and  would  be  in  complete  working  trim  by  the  day 
of  trial.  The  engine  was  shortly  after  sent  by  wagon  to  Carlisle, 
and  thence  shipped  for  Liverpool. 

The  time  so  much  longed  for  by  George  Stephenson  had  now  ar- 
rived, when  the  merits  of  the  passenger  locomotive  were  about  to  be 
put  to  test.  He  had  fought  the  battle  for  it  until  now  almost  single- 
handed.  Engrossed  by  his  daily  labors  and  anxieties,  and  harassed 
by  difficulties  and  discouragements  which  would  have  crushed  the 
spirits  of  a  less  resolute  man,,  he  had  held  firmly  to  his  purpose 
through  good  and  through  evil  report.  The  hostility  which  he  ex- 
perienced from  some  of  the  directors  opposed  to  the  adoption  of  the 
locomotive  was  the  circumstance  that  caused  him  the  greatest  grief 
of  all ;  for,  where  he  had  looked  for  encouragement,  he  found  only 
carping  and  opposition.  But  his  pluck  never  failed  him ;  and  now 
the  "Rocket"  was  upon  the  ground,  to  prove,  to  use  his  own  words, 
"whether  he  was  a  man  of  his  word  or  not." 


BATTLE     OF    THE     LOCOMOTIVES. 


169 


Great  interest  was  felt  at*  Liverpool,  as  well  as  throughout  the 
country,  in  the  approaching  competition.  Engineers,  scientific  men, 
and  mechanics  arrived  from  all  quarters,  to  witness  the  novel  display 
of  mechanical  ingenuity  on  which  such  great  results  depended.  The 
public  generally  were  no  indifferent  spectators  either.  The  popula- 
tions of  Liverpool,  Manchester,  and  the  adjacent  towns  felt  that  the 
successful  issue  of  the  experiment  would  confer  upon  them  individual 
benefits  and  local  advantages  almost  incalculable,  while  populations 
at  a  distance  waited  for  the  result  with  almost  equal  interest. 

On  the  day  appointed  for  the  great  competition  of  locomotives  at 
Rainhill,  the  following  engines  were  entered  for  the  prize: 

1.  Messrs.  Braithwaite  and  Ericsson's*  "Novelty." 

2.  Mr.  Timothy  Hackworth's  "  Sanspareil." 

3.  Messrs.  R.  Stephenson  &  Co.'s  "Rocket." 

4.  Mr.  Burstall's  "Perseverance." 

Another  engine  was  entered  by  Mr.  Brandreth,  of  Liverpool — the 
"Cycloped,"  weighing  three  tons,  worked  by  a  horse  in  a  frame,  but 
it  could  not  be  admitted  to  •  the  competition.  The  above  were  the 
only  four  exhibited,  out  of  a  considerable  number  of  engines  con- 
structed in  different  parts  of  the  country,  in  anticipation  of  this  con- 
test, many  of  which  could  not  be  satisfactorily  completed  by  the  day 
of  trial. 

The  ground  on  which  the  engines  were  to  be  tried  was  a  level  piece 
of  railroad,  about  two  miles  in  length.  Each  was  required  to  make 
twenty  trips,  or  equal  to  a  journey  of  seventy  miles,  in  the  course  of 
the  day,  and  the  average  rate  of  traveling  was  to  be  not  under  ten 
miles  an  hour.  It  was  determined  that,  to  avoid  confusion,  each 
engine  should  be  tried  separately,  and  on  different  days. 

The  day  fixed  for  the  competition  was  the  ist  of  October,  but,  to 
allow  sufficient  time  to  get  the  locomotives  into  good  working  order, 
the  directors  extended  it  to  the  6th.  On  the  morning  of  the  6th,  the 
ground  at  Rainhill  presented  a  lively  appearance,  and  there  was  great 
excitement.  Many  thousand  spectators  looked  on,  among  whom 
were  some  of  the  first  engineers  and  mechanicians  of  the  day.  A 
stand  was  provided  for  the  ladies;  the  "beauty  and  fashion"  of  the 
neighborhood  were  present,  and  the  side  of  the  railroad  was  lined 
with  carriages  of  all  descriptions. 

It  was  quite  characteristic  of  the  Stephensons,  that,  although  their 
engine  did  not  stand  first  on  the  list  for  trial,  it  was  the  first  ( that 
was  ready,  and  it  was  accordingly  ordered  out  by  the  judges  for  an 
experimental  trip.  Yet  the  "Rocket"  was  by  no  means  the  "  favor- 
ite" with  either  the  judges  or  the  spectators.  Nicholas  Wood  has 

*  The  inventor  of  this  engine  was  a  Swede,  who  afterward  came  to  the  United 
Stales,  and  here  achieved  considerable  distinction  as  an  engineer.  His  caloric  en- 
gine has  so  far  proved  impracticable  to  a  large  extent,  but  his  iron  cupola  vessel,  the 
"  Monitor,"  must  be  admitted  to  have  been  a  remarkable  success  in  its  way. 


170  GEORGE     STEPHENSON. 

since  stated  that  the  majority  of  the  judges  were  strongly  predisposed 
in  favor  of  the  "Novelty,"  and  that  "nine  tenths,  if  not  ten  tenths, 
of  the  persons  present  were  against  the  'Rocket'  because  of  its  ap- 
pearance." Nearly  every  person  favored  some  other  engine,  so  that 
there  was  nothing  for  the  "  Rocket  "  but  the  practical  test.  The  first 
trip  made  by  it  was  quite  successful.  It  ran  about  twelve  miles,  with- 
out interruption,  in  about  fifty-three  minutes. 

The  "Novelty"  was  next  called  out.  It  was  a  light  engine,  very 
compact  in  appearance,  carrying  the  water  and  fuel  upon  the  same 
wheels  as  the  engine.  The  weight  of  the  whole  was  only  three  tons 
and  one  hundred  weight.  A  peculiarity  of  this  engine  was,  that  the 
air  was  driven  or  forced  through  the  fire  by  means  of  bellows.  The 
day  being  now  far  advanced,  and  some  dispute  having  arisen  as  to 
the  method  of  assigning  the  proper  load  for  the  "Novelty,"  no  par- 
ticular experiment  was  made  farther  than  that  the  engine  traversed  the 
line  by  way  of  exhibition,  occasionally  moving  at  the  rate  of  twenty- 
four  miles  an  hour.  The  "Sanspareil,"  constructed  by  Mr.  Timothy 
Hackworth,  was  next  exhibited,  but  no  particular  experiment  was 
made  with  it  on  this  day.  This  engine  differed  but  little  in  construc- 
tion from  the  locomotive  last  supplied  by  the  Stephensons  to  the 
Stockton  and  Darlington  Railway,  of  which  Mr.  Hackworth  was  the 
locomotive  foreman. 

The  contest  was  postponed  until  the  following  day;  but,  before 
the  judges  arrived  on  the  ground,  the  bellows  for  creating  the  blast 
in  the  "Novelty"  gave  way,  and  it  was  found  incapable  of  going 
through  its  performance.  A  defect  was  also  detected  in  the  boiler 
of  the  "Sanspareil,"  and  some  farther  time  was  allowed  to  get  it  re- 
paired. The  large  number  of  spectators  who  had  assembled  to  wit- 
ness the  contest  were  greatly  disappointed  at  this  postponement ;  but, 
to  lessen  it,  Stephenson  again  brought  out  the  "Rocket,"  and,  at- 
taching to  it  a  coach  containing  thirty  persons,  he  ran  them  along 
the  line  at  the  rate  of  from  twenty-four  to  thirty  miles  an  hour,  much 
to  their  gratification  and  amazement.  Before  separating,  the  judges 
ordered  the  engine  to  be  in  readiness  by  eight  o'clock  on  the  follow- 
ing morning,  to  go  through  its  definite  trial  according  to  the  pre- 
scribed conditions. 

On  the  morning  of  the  8th  of  October,  the  "Rocket "'was  again 
ready  for  the  contest.  The  engine  was  taken  to  the  extremity  of  the 
stage,  the  fire-box  was  filled  with  coke,  the  fire  lighted,  and  the 
steam  raised,  until  it  lifted  the  safety-valve,  loaded  to  a  pressure  of 
fifty  pounds  to  the  square  inch.  This  proceeding  occupied  fifty-seven 
minutes.  The  engine  then  started  on  its  journey,  dragging  after  it 
about  thirteen  tons'  weight  in  wagons,  and  made  the  first  ten  trips 
backward  and  forward  along  the  two  miles  of  road,  running  the  thir- 
ty-five miles,  including  stoppages,  in  an  hour  and  forty-eight  minutes. 
The  second  ten  trips  were,  in  like  manner,  performed  in  two  hours 
and  three  minutes.  The  maximum  velocity  attained  during  the  trial 


First  Railway  Coach,  1825. 
STOCKTON  t  DAKLIXOTOS  ROAD.— See  p&ge  148. 


First  Passenger  Engine,   1829. 
STEPHEN-SON'S  PREMIUM  "  ROCKET."— See  p*g«  170. 


THE    "ROCKET"    CONQUERS.  171 

k 

trip  was  twenty-nine  miles  an  hour,  or  about  three  times  the  speed 
that  one  of  the  judges  of  the  competition  had  declared  to  be  the 
limit  of  possibility.  The  average  speed  at  which  the  whole  of  the 
journeys  were  performed  was  fifteen  miles  an  hour,  or  five  miles  be- 
yond the  rate  specified  in  the  conditions  published  by  the  company. 
The  entire  performance  excited  the  greatest  astonishment  among  the 
assembled  spectators ;  the  directors  felt  confident  that  their  enterprise 
was  now  on  the  eve  of  success;  and  George  Stephenson  rejoiced  to 
think  that,  in  spite  of  all  false  prophets  and  fickle  counselors,  the 
locomotive  system  was  now  safe.  When  the  "Rocket,"  having  per- 
formed all  the  conditions  of  the  contest,  arrived  at  the  "grand 
stand,"  at  the  close  of  its  day's  successful  run,  Mr.  Cropper — one  of 
the  directors  favorable  to  the  fixed  engine  system — lifted  up  his  hands, 
and  exclaimed,  "  Now  has  George  Stephenson  at  last  delivered  him- 
self." 

Neither  the  "Novelty"  nor  the  "Sanspareil"  was  ready  for  trial 
until  the  loth,  on  the  morning  of  which  day  an  advertisement  ap- 
peared, stating  that  the  former  engine  was  to  be  tried  on  that  day, 
when  it  would  perform  more  work  than  any  engine  on  the  ground. 
The  weight  of  the  carriages  attached  to  it  was  only  about  seven  tons. 
The  engine  passed  the  first  post  in  good  style;  but,  in  returning,  the 
pipe  from  the  forcing-pump  burst  and  put  an  end  to  the  trial.  The 
pipe  was  afterward  repaired,  and  the  engine  made  several  trips  by 
itself,  in  which  it  was  said  to  have  gone  at  the  rate  of  from  twenty- 
four  to  twenty-eight  miles  an  hour. 

The  "Sanspareil"  was  not  ready  until  the  i3th;  and  when  its 
boiler  and  tender  were  filled  with  water,  it  was  found  to  weigh  four 
hundred  weight  beyond  the  weight  specified  in  the  published  condi- 
tions as  the  limit  of  four-wheeled  engines;  nevertheless,  the  judges 
allowed  it  to  run  on  the  same  footing  as  the  other  engines,  to  enable 
them  to  ascertain  whether  its  merits  entitled  it  to  favorable  considera- 
tion. It  traveled  at  the  average  speed  of  about  fourteen  miles  an 
hour,  with  its  load  attached;  but  at  the  eighth  trip  the  cold-water 
pump  got  wrong,  and  the  engine  could  proceed  no  farther. 

It  was  determined  to  award  the  premium  to  the  successful  engine 
on  the  following  day,  the  i4th,  on  which  occasion  there  was  an  un- 
usual assemblage  of  spectators.  The  owners  of  the  "Novelty" 
pleaded  for  another  trial,  and  it  was  conceded.  But  again  it  broke 
down.  Then  Mr.  Hackworth  requested  an  opportunity  for  making 
another  trial  of  his  "Sanspareil."  But  the  judges  had  now  had 
enough  of  failures,  and  they  declined,  on  the  ground  that  not  only 
was  the  engine  above  the  stipulated  weight,  but  that  it  was  constructed 
on  a  plan  which  they  could  not  recommend  for  adoption  by  the  di- 
rectors of  the  company.  One  of  the  principal  practical  objections 
to  this  locomotive  was  the  enormous  quantity  of  coke  consumed  or 
wasted  by  it — about  692  Ibs.  per  hour,  when  traveling — caused  by  the 


1)2  GEORGE     STEPHENSON. 

sharpness  of  the  steam-blast  in  the  chimney,  which  blew  a  large  pro- 
portion of  the  burning  coke  into  the  air. 

The  "Perseverance"  of  Mr.  Burstall  was  found  unable  to  move  at 
more  than  five  or  six  miles  an  hour,  and  it  was  withdrawn  from  the 
contest  at  an  early  period.  The  "Rocket "  was  thus  the  only  engine 
that  had  performed,  and  more  than  performed,  all  the  stipulated  con- 
ditions, and  it  was  declared  to  be  entitled  to  the  prize  of  SOQ/.,  which* 
was  awarded  to  the  Messrs.  Stephenson  and  Booth  accordingly.  And 
farther,  to  show  that  the  engine  had  been  working  quite  within  its 
powers,  George  Stephenson  ordered  it  to  be  brought  upon  the  ground 
and  detached  from  all  incumbrances,  when,  in  making  two  trips,  it 
was  found  to  travel  at  the  astonishing  rate  of  thirty-five  miles  an 
hour. 

The  "Rocket"  had  thus  eclipsed  the  performances  of  all  locomo- 
tive engines  that  had  yet  been  constructed,  and  outstripped  even  the 
sanguine  expectations  of  its  constructors.  It  satisfactorily  answered 
the  report  of  Messrs.  Walker  and  Rastrick,  and  established  the  effi- 
ciency of  the  locomotive  for  working  the  Liverpool  and  Manchester 
Railway,  and,  indeed,  all  future  railways.  The  "  Rocket "  showed 
that  a  new  power  had  been  born  into  the  world,  full  of  activity  and 
strength,  with  boundless  capability  of  work.  It  was  the  simple  but 
admirable  contrivance  of  the  steam-blast,  and  its  combination  with 
the  multitubular  boiler,  that  at  once  gave  locomotion  a  vigorous  life, 
and  secured  the  triumph  of  the  railway  system.*  As  has  been  well 
observed,  this  wonderful  ability  to  increase  and  multiply  its  powers 
of  performance  with  the  emergency  that  demands  them  has  made  this 
giant  engine  the  noblest  creation  of  human  wit,  the  very  lion  among 
machines.  The  success  of  the  Rainhill  experiment,  as  judged  by  the 
public,  may  be  inferred  from  the  fact  that  the  shares  of  the  company 
immediately  rose  ten  per  cent,  and  nothing  farther  was  heard  of  the 
proposed  twenty-one  fixed  engines,  engine-houses,  ropes,  etc.  All 
this  cumbersome  apparatus  was  thenceforward  effectually  disposed  of. 

*  When  heavier  and  more  powerful  engines  were  brought  upon  the  road,,  the  old 
"  Rocket,"  becoming  regarded  as  a  thing  of  no  value,  was  sold  in  1837.  It  was 
purchased  by  Mr.  Thompson,  of  Kirkhouse,  the  lessee  of  the  Earl  of  Carlisle's  coal 
and  lime  works,  near  Carlisle.  He  worked  the  engine  on  the  Midgeholme  Rail- 
way for  five  or  six  years,  during  which  it  hauled  coals  from  the  pits  to  the  town. 
There  was  wonderful  vitality  in  the  old  engine.  When  the  great  contest  for  the 
representation  of  East  Cumberland  took  place,  and  Sir  James  Graham  was  super- 
seded by  Major  Aglionby,  the  "  Rocket"  was  employed  to  convey  the  Alston  ex- 
press with  the  state  of  the  poll  from  Midgeholme  to  Kirkhouse.  On  that  occasion 
the  engine  was  driven  by  Mr.  Mark  Thompson,  and  it  ran  the  distance  of  upward 
of  four  miles  in  four  and  a  half  minutes,  thus  reaching  a  speed  of  nearly  sixty 
miles  an  hour,  proving  its  still  admirable  qualities  as  an  engine.  But  again  it  was 
superseded  by  heavier  engines ;  for  it  only  weighed  about  four  tons,  whereas  the 
new  engines  were  at  least  three  times  that  weight.  The  "  Rocket "  was  conse- 
quently laid  up  in  ordinary  in  the  yard  at  Kirkhouse,  from  whence  it  has  since  been 
transferred  to  the  Museum  of  Patents  at  Kensington,  where  it  is  still  to  be  seen. 


LIVERPOOL     AND     MANCHESTER     RAILWAY.  173 

Very  different  now  was  the  tone  of  those  directors  who  had  dis- 
tinguished themselves  by  the  persistency  of  their  opposition  to  George 
Stephenson's  plans.  Coolness  gave  way  to  eulogy,  and  hostility  to 
unbounded  offers  of  friendship,  after  the  manner  of  many  men  who 
run  to  the  help  of  the  strong.  Deeply  though  the  engineer  had  felt, 
aggrieved  by  the  conduct  exhibited  toward  him,  during  this  eventful 
struggle,  by  some  from  whom  forbearance  was  to  have  been  expected, 
he  never  entertained  toward  them  in  after-life  any  angry  feelings  ; 
on  the  contrary,  he  forgave  all.  But,  though  the  directors  afterward 
passed  unanimous  resolutions  eulogizing  "the  great  skill  and  un- 
wearied energy"  of  their  engineer,  he  himself,  when  speaking  con- 
fidentially to  those  with  whom  he  was  most  intimate,  could  not  help 
pointing  out  the  difference  between  his  "  foul-weather  and  fair-weather 
friends."  Mr.  Gooch  says  that,  though  naturally  most  cheerful  and 
kind-hearted  in  disposition,  the  anxiety  and  pressure  which  weighed 
upon  his  mind  during  the  construction  of  the  railway  had  the  effect 
of  making  him  occasionally  impatient  and  irritable,  like  a  spirited 
horse  touched  by  the  spur,  though  his  original  good-nature  from  time 
to  time  shone  through  it  all.  When  the  line  had  been  brought  to  a 
successful  completion,  a  very  marked  change  in  him  became  visible. 
The  irritability  passed  away,  and  when  difficulties  and  vexations  arose, 
they  were  treated  by  him  as  matters  of  course,  and  with  perfect  com 
posure  and  cheerfulness. 

OPENING  OF   THE  LIVERPOOL  AND   MANCHESTER    RAILWAY,   AND   EXTEN- 
SION  OF   THE    RAILWAY    SYSTEM. 

The  directors  of  the  railway  now  began  to  see  daylight,  and  they 
derived  encouragement  from  the  skillful  manner  in  which  their  engi- 
neer had  overcome  the  principal  difficulties  of  the  undertaking.  He 
had  formed  a  solid  road  over  Chat  Moss,  and  thus  achieved  one 
"impossibility;"  and  he  had  constructed  a  locomotive  that  could 
run  at  a  speed  of  thirty  miles  an  hour,  thus  vanquishing  a  still  more 
formidable  difficulty. 

A  single  line  of  way  was  completed  over  Chat  Moss  by  the  first  of 
January,  1830,  and  on  that  day  the  "Rocket,"  with  a  carriage  full  of 
directors,  engineers,  and  their  friends,  passed  along  the  greater  part 
of  the  road  between  Liverpool  and  Manchester.  Mr.  Stephenson 
continued  to  direct  his  close  attention  to  the  improvement  of  the  de- 
tails of  the  locomotive,  every  successive  trial  of  which  proved  more 
satisfactory.  In  this  department  he  had  the  benefit  of  the  able  and 
unremitting  assistance  of  his  son,  who,  in  the  workshops  at  Newcastle, 
directly  superintended  the  construction  of  the  engines  required  for 
the  working  of  the  railway.  He  did  not  by  any  means  rest  satisfied 
with  the  success,  decided  though  it  was,  which  had  been  achieved  by 
the  "Rocket."  He  regarded  it  but  in  the  light  of  a  successful  ex- 
periment ;  and  every  successive  engine  placed  upon  the  railway  exhib- 


174  GEORGE    STEPHENSON. 

ited  some  improvement  on  its  predecessors.  The  arrangement  of  the 
parts,  and  the  weight  and  proportion  of  the  engines,  were  altered  as  the 
experience  of  each  successive  day,  or  week,  or  month  suggested;  and  it 
was  soon  found  that  the  performances  of  the  "  Rocket,"  on  the  day  of 
trial,  had  been  greatly  within  the  powers  of  the  improved  locomotive. 

The  first  entire  trip  between  Liverpool  and  Manchester  was  per- 
formed on  the  1 4th  of  June,  1830,  on  the  occasion  of  a  board  meet- 
ing being  held  at  the  latter  town.  The  train  was  on  this  occasion 
drawn  by  the  "Arrow,"  one  of  the  new  locomotives,  in  which  the 
most  recent  improvements  had  been  adopted.  George  Stephenson 
himself  drove  the  engine,  and  Captain  Scoresby,  the  circumpolar  nav- 
igator, stood  beside  him  on  the  foot-plate,  and  minuted  the  speed 
of  the  train.  A  great  concourse  of  people  assembled  at  both  termini, 
as  well  as  along  the  line,  to  witness  the  novel  spectacle  of  a  train  of 
carriages  drawn  by  an  engine  at  the  speed  of  seventeen  miles  an  hour. 
On  the  return  journey  to  Liverpool,  in  the  evening,  the  "Arrow" 
crossed  Chat  Moss  at  a  speed  of  nearly  twenty-seven  miles  an  hour, 
reaching  its  destination  in  about  an  hour  and  a  half. 

In  the  mean  time,  Mr.  Stephenson,  and  his  assistant,  Mr.  Gooch, 
were  diligently  occupied  in  making  the  necessary  preliminary  arrange- 
ments for  the  conduct  of  the  traffic  against  the  time  when  the  line 
should  be  ready  for  opening.  The  experiments  made  with  the  object 
of  carrying  on  the'  passenger  traffic  at  quick  velocities  were  of  an  es- 
pecially harassing  and  anxious  character.  Every  week,  for  nearly 
three  months  before  the  opening,  trial  trips  were  made  to  Newton  and 
back,  generally  with  two  or  three  trains  following  each  other,  and 
carrying  altogether  from  two  to  three  hundred  persons.  These  trips 
were  usually  made  on  Saturday  afternoons,  when  the  works  could  be 
more  conveniently  stopped  and  the  line  cleared  for  the  occasion.  In 
these  experiments,  Mr.  Stephenson  had  the  able  assistance  of  Mr. 
Henry  Booth,  the  secretary  of  the  company,  who  contrived  many 
of  the  arrangements  in  the  passenger  carriages,  not  the  least  valuable 
of  which  was  his  invention  of  the  coupling  screw,  still  in  use  on  all 
passenger  railways. 

At  length  the  line  was  finished  and  ready  for  the  public  opening, 
which  took  place  on  the  i5th  of  September,  1830,  and  attracted  a 
vast  number  of  spectators  from  all  parts  of  the  country.  The  com- 
pletion of  the  railway  was  justly  regarded  as  an  important  national 
event,  and  the  ceremony  of  its  opening  was  celebrated  accordingly. 
The  Duke  of  Wellington,  then  Prime  Minister,  Sir  Robert  Peel,  Se- 
cretary of  State,  Mr.  Huskisson,  one  of  the  members  for  Liverpool, 
and  an  earnest  supporter  of  the  project  from  its  commencement, 
were  among  the  number  of  distinguished  public  personages  present. 

Eight  locomotive  engines,  constructed  at  the  Stephenson  works, 
had  been  delivered  and  placed  upon  the  line,  the  whole  of  which 
had  been  tried  and  tested,  weeks  before,  with  perfect  success.  The 
several  trains  of  carriages  accommodated  in  all  about  six  hundred  per- 


THE     "ROCKET         MAKES    QUICK    TIME.  175 

sons.  The  "Northumbrian"  engine,  driven  by  George  Stephenson 
himself,  headed  the  line  of  trains;  then  followed  the  "Phoenix," 
driven  by  Robert  Stephenson;  the  "North  Star,"  by  Robert  Ste- 
phenson, senior  (brother  of  George);  the  "  Rocket,"  by  Joseph  Locke; 
the  "Dart,"  by  Thomas  L.  Gooch ;  the  "Comet,"  by  William  All- 
card;  the  "Arrow,"  by  Frederick  Swanwick;  and  the  "  Meteor,"  by 
Anthony  Harding.  The  procession  was  cheered  in  its  progress  by 
thousands  of  spectators — through  the  deep  ravine  of  Olive  Mount ;  up 
the  Sutton  incline  ;  over  the  Sankey  viaduct,  beneath  which  a  multi- 
tude of  persons  had  assembled — carriages  filling  the  narrow  lanes, 
and  barges  crowding  the  river;  the  people  below  gazing  with  wonder 
and  admiration  at  the  trains  which  sped  along  the  line,  far  above 
their  heads,  at  the  rate  of  some  twenty-four  miles  an  hour. 

At  Parkside,  about  seventeen  miles  from  Liverpool,  the  engines 
stopped  to  take  in  water.  Here  a  deplorable  accident  occurred  to 
one  of  the  illustrious  visitors,  which  threw  a  deep  shadow  over  the 
subsequent  proceedings  of  the  day.  The  "Northumbrian"  engine, 
with  the  carriage  containing  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  was  drawn  up 
on  one  line,  in  order  that  the  whole  of  the  trains  on  the  other  line 
might  pass  in  review  before  him  and  his  party.  Mr.  Huskisson  had 
alighted  from  the  carriage,  and  was  standing  on  the  opposite  road, 
along  which  the  "Rocket"  was  observed  rapidly  coming  up.  At 
this  moment  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  between  whom  and  Mr.  Hus- 
kisson some  coolness  had  existed,  made  a  sign  of  recognition,  and 
held  out  his  hand.  A  hurried  but  friendly  grasp  was  given ;  and  be- 
fore it  was  loosened  there  was  a  general  cry  from  the  by-standers  of 
"Get  in,  get  in!"  Flurried  and  confused,  Mr.  Huskisson  endeav- 
ored to  get  round  the  open  door  of  the  carriage,  which  projected  over 
the  opposite  rail,  but  in  so  doing  he  was  struck  down  by  the  "  Rocket," 
and  falling  with  his  leg  doubled  across  the  rail,  the  limb  was  in- 
stantly crushed.  His  first  words,  on  being  raised,  were,  "I  have  met 
my  death,"  which  unhappily  proved  true,  for  he  expired  that  same 
evening  in  the  parsonage  of  Eccles.  It  was  cited,  at  the  time,  as  a 
remarkable  fact,  that  the  "Northumbrian"  engine,  driven  by  George 
Stephenson  himself,  conveyed  the  wounded  body  of  the  unfortunate 
gentleman  a  distance  of  about  fifteen  miles  in  twenty-five  minutes,  or 
at  the  rate  of  thirty-six  miles  an  hour.  This  incredible  speed  burst 
upon  the  world  with  the  effect  of  a  new  and  unlooked-for  phenom- 
enon. 

The  accident  threw  a  gloom  over  the  rest  of  the  day's  proceedings. 
The  Duke  of  Wellington  and  Sir  Robert  Peel  expressed  a  wish  that 
the  procession  should  return  to  Liverpool.  It  was,  however,  repre- 
sented to  them  that  a  vast  concourse  of  people  had  assembled  at 
Manchester  to  witness  the  arrival  of  the  trains;  that  report  would  exag- 
gerate the  "mischief,  if  they  did  not  complete  the  journey ;  and  that  a 
false  panic  on  that  day  might  seriously  affect  future  railway  traveling, 
and  the  value  of  the  company's  property.  The  party  consented  ac- 


176  GEORGE     STEPHENSON. 

cordingly  to  proceed  to  Manchester,  but  on  the  understanding  that 
they  should  return  as  soon  as  possible,  and  refrain  from  farther  fes- 
tivity  * 

On  the  trains  coming  to  a  stand  in  the  Manchester  station,  the 
duke  did  not  descend,  but  remained  seated,  shaking  hands  with  the 
women  and  children,  who  were  pushed  forward  by  the  crowd.  Shortly 
after,  the  trains  returned  to  Liverpool,  which  they  reached  after  con- 
siderable delays,  late  at  night. 

On  the  following  morning,  the  railway  was  opened  for  public  traf- 
fic. The  first  train  of  140  passengers  was  booked  and  sent  on  to 
Manchester,  reaching  it  in  the  allotted  time  of  two  hours ;  and  from 
that  time  the  traffic  has  regularly  proceeded  from  day  to  day  until 
now. 

It  is  scarcely  necessary  that  we  should  speak  at  any  length  of  the 
commercial  results  of  the  Liverpool  and  Manchester  Railway.  Suf- 
fice it  to  say  that  its  success  was  complete  and  decisive.  The  antici- 
pations of  its  projectors  were,  however,  in  many  respects  at  fault. 
They  had  based  their  calculations  almost  entirely  on  the  heavy  mer- 
chandise traffic — such  as  coal,  cotton,  and  timber — relying  little  upon 
passengers ;  whereas,  the  receipts  derived  from  the  conveyance  of  pas- 
sengers far  exceeded  those  derived  from  merchandise  of  all  kinds, 
which  for  a  time  continued  a  subordinate  branch  of  the  traffic. 

For  some  time  after  the  public  opening  of  the  line,  Mr.  Stephen- 
son's  ingenuity  continued  to  be  employed  in  devising  improved 
methods  for  securing  the  safety  and  comfort  of  the  traveling  public. 
Few  are  aware  of  the  thousand  minute  details  which  have  to  be  ar- 
ranged— the  forethought  and  contrivance  that  have  to  be  exercised — 
to  enable  the  traveler  by  railway  to  accomplish  his  journey  in  safety. 
After  the  difficulties  of  constructing  a  level  road  over  bogs,  across 
valleys,  and  through  deep  cuttings  have  been  overcome,  the  mainte- 
nance of  the  way  has  to  be  provided  for  with  continuous  care.  Every 
rail,  with  its  fastenings,  must  be  complete,  to  prevent  risk  of  accident, 
and  the  road  must  be  kept  regularly  ballasted  up  to  the  level,  to  dim- 
inish the  jolting  when  passing  over  it  at  high  speed.  Then  the  sta- 
tions must  be  protected  by  signals,  observable  from  such  a  distance  as 
to  enable  the  train  to  be  stopped  in  event  of  an  obstacle,  such  as  a 
stopping  or  shunting  train  being  in  the  way.  For  some  years  the 
signals  employed  on  the  Liverpool  Railway  were  entirely  given  by 
men  with  flags  of  different  colors  stationed  along  the  line ;  there  were 
no  fixed  signals  nor  electric  telegraphs ;  but  the  traffic  was  neverthe- 
less worked  quite  as  safely  as  under  the  more  elaborate  and  compli- 
cated system  of  telegraphing  which  has  since  been  established. 

For  the  purpose  of  stopping  the  train,  brakes  on  an  improved  plan 
were  contrived,  with  new  modes  of  lubricating  the  carriage-axles,  on 
which  the  wheels  revolved  at  an  unusually  high  velocity.  In  all  these 
contrivances  Mr.  Stephenson's  inventiveness  was  kept  constantly  on 
the  stretch;  and  though  many  improvements  in  detail  have  been 


A     MAN     OF    ALL    WORK.  177 

effected  since  his  time,  the  foundations  were  then  laid  by  him  of  the 
present  system  of  conducting  railway  traffic.  As  a  curious  illustra- 
tion of  the  inventive  ingenuity  which  he  displayed  in  contriving  the 
working  of  the  Liverpool  line,  we  may  mention  his  invention  of  the 
Self-acting  Brake.  He  early  entertained  the  idea  that  the  momentum 
of  the  running  train  might  itself  be  made  available  for  the  purpose 
of  checking  its  speed.  He  proposed  to  fit  each  carriage  with  a  brake, 
which  should  be  called  into  action  immediately  on  the  locomotive  at 
the  head  of  the  train  being  pulled  up.  The  impetus  of  the  carriage 
carrying  them  forward,  the  buffer-springs  would  be  driven  home,  and, 
at  the  same  time,  by  a  simple  arrangement  of  the  mechanism,  the 
brakes  would  be  called  into  simultaneous  action ;  thus  the  wheels 
would  be  brought  into  a  state  of  sledge,  and  the  train  speedily  stop- 
ped. This  plan  was  adopted  by  Mr.  Stephenson  before  he  left  the 
Liverpool  and  Manchester  Railway,  though  it  was  afterward  discon- 
tinued; and  it  is  a  remarkable  fact,  that  this  identical  plan,  with  the 
addition  of  a  centrifugal  apparatus,  was  recently  revived  by  M. 
Guerin,  a  French  engineer,  and  extensively  employed  on  foreign 
railways. 

Finally,  Mr.  Stephenson  had  to  attend  to  the  improvement  of  the 
power  and  speed  of  the  locomotive,  with  a  view  to  economy  as  well 
as  regularity  in  the  working  of  the  railway.  In  the  "Planet "  engine, 
delivered  upon  the  line  immediately  subsequent  to  the  public  open- 
ing, all  the  improvements  which  had  up  to  this  time  been  contrived 
by  him  and  his  son  were  introduced  in  combination — the  blast-pipe, 
the  tubular  boiler,  horizontal  cylinders  inside  the  smoke-box,  the 
cranked  axle,  and  the  fire-box  firmly  fixed  to  the  boiler.  The  first 
load  of  goods  conveyed  from  Liverpool  to  Manchester  by  the  "Planet" 
was  eighty  tons  in  weight,  and  the  engine  performed  the  journey 
against  a  strong  head  wind  in  two  hours  and  a  half.  On  another 
occasion,  the  same  engine  brought  up  a  cargo  of  voters  from  Man- 
chester to  Liverpool,  during  a  contested  election,  within  a  space  of 
sixty  minutes.  The  "Samson,"  in  the  following  year,  exhibited  still 
farther  improvements,  the  most  important  of  which  was  that  of  coupling 
the  fore  and  hind  wheels  of  the  engine.  By  this  means  the  adhesion 
of  the  wheels  on  the  rails  was  more  effectually  secured,  and  thus  the 
full  hauling  power  of  the  locomotive  was  made  available.  The  "  Sam- 
son," shortly  after  it  was  placed  upon  the  line,  dragged  after  it  a  train 
of  cars,  weighing  a  hundred  and  fifty  tons,  at  a  speed  of  about  twenty 
miles  an  hour,  the  consumption  of  coke  being  reduced  to  about  a  third 
of  a  pound  per  ton  per  mile. 

The  rapid  progress  thus  made  will  show  that  the  inventive  faculties 
of  Mr.  Stephenson  and  his  son  were  kept  fully  on  the  stretch ;  but 
their  labors  were  amply  repaid  by  the  result.  They  were,  doubtless, 
to  some  extent,  stimulated  by  the  number  of  competitors  who  about 
the  same  time  appeared  as  improvers  of  the  locomotive  engine.  But 
the  superiority  of  Stephenson's  locomotives  over  all  others  that  had 
la 


178  GEORGE    STEPHENSON. 

yet  been  tried  induced  the  directors  of  the  railway  to  require  that  the 
engines  supplied  to  them  by  other  builders,  should  be  constructed 
after  the  same  model.  Mr.  Stephenson  himself  always  had  the  great- 
est faith  in  the  superiority  of  his  own  engines  over  all  others,  and 
did  not  hesitate  strongly  to  declare  it.  When  it  was  once  proposed 
to  introduce  the  engines  of  another  maker  on  the  Manchester  and 
Leeds  line,  he  said,  "Very  well;  I  have  no  objection;  but  put  them 

to   this   fair  test.     Hang  one  of 's  engines  on  to  one  of  mine, 

back  to  back.  Then  let  them  go  at  it;  and  whichever  walks  away 
with  the  other,  that's  the  engine" 

Stephenson's  mechanics  were  in  request  all  over  England — the 
Newcastle  workshops  continuing  for  many  years  to  perform  the  part 
of  a  training-school  for  engineers,  and  to  supply  locomotive  superin- 
tendents and  drivers,  not  only  for  England,  but  for  nearly  every 
country  in  Europe — preference  being  given  to  fhem  by  the  directors 
of  railways,  in  consequence  of  their  previous  training  and  experience, 
as  well  as  because  of  their  generally  excellent  qualities  as  steady  and 
industrious  workmen. 

The  success  of  the  Liverpool  and  Manchester  experiment  naturally 
excited  great  interest.  People  flocked  to  Lancashire  from  all  quarters 
to  see  the  steam-coach  running  upon  a  railway  at  three  times  the 
speed  of  a  mail-coach,  and  to  enjoy  the  excitement  of  actually  trav- 
eling in  the  wake  of  an  engine  at  that  incredible  velocity.  The 
travelers  returned  to  their  respective  districts  full  of  the  wonders  of 
the  locomotive,  considering  it  to  be  the  greatest  marvel  of  the  age. 
Railways  are  familiar  enough  objects  now,  and  our  children  who  grow 
up  in  their  midst  may  think  little  of  them;  but  thirty  years  since,  it 
was  an  event  in  one's  life  to  see  a  locomotive,  and  to  travel  for  the 
first  time  upon  a  public  railroad. 

The  practicability  of  railway  locomotion  being  now  proved,  and 
its  great  social  and  commercial  advantages  ascertained,  the  extension 
of  the  system  was  merely  a  question  of  time,  money,  and  labor. 
Although  the  Legislature  took  no  initiative  step  in  the  direction  of 
railway  extension,  the  public  spirit  and  enterprise  of  the  country  did 
not  fail  it  at  this  juncture.  The  English  people,  though  they  may 
be  defective  in  their  capacity  for  organization,  are  strong  in  individ- 
ualism, and  not  improbably  their  admirable  qualities  in  the  latter 
respect  detract  from  their  efficiency  in  the  former.  Thus,  in  all 
times,  their  greatest  national  enterprises  have  not  been  planned  by 
officials,  and  carried  out  upon  any  regular  system,  but  have  sprung, 
like  their  Constitution,  their  laws,  and  their  entire  industrial  arrange- 
ments, from  the  force  of  circumstances  and  the  individual  energies 
of  the  people.  Hence  railway  extension,  like  so  many  other  great 
English  enterprises,  was  now  left  to  be  carried  out  by  the  genius  of 
English  engineers,  backed  by  the  energy  of  the  British  public. 

The  mode  of  action  was  characteristic  and  national.  The  execu- 
tion of  the  D£W  lines  was  undertaken  entirely  by  joint-stock  associa- 


RAILWAYS     OPPOSED.  179 

tions  of  proprietors,  after  the  manner  of  the  Stockton  and  Darlington, 
and  Liverpool  and  Manchester  companies. 

Mr.  Stephenson  was,  of  course,  actively  engaged  in  the  construc- 
tion of  numerous  railways  now  projected.  During  the  formation 
of  the  Manchester  line,  he  had  been  consulted  respecting  many  simi- 
lar projects.  The  commercial  results  of  the  Manchester  line  greatly 
exceeded  the  expectations  of  its  projectors.  Now,  that  the  practica- 
bility of  working  it  by  locomotive  power  had  been  proved,  it  was  as 
easy  for  engineers  to  make  railways,  and  to  work  them,  as  it  was  for 
navigators  to  find  America  after  Columbus  had  made  the  first  voyage. 

When  it  was  proposed  to  extend  the  advantages  of  railways  to  the 
population  of  the  midland  and  southern  counties  of  England,  an 
immense  amount  of  alarm  was  created  in  the  minds  of  the  country 
gentlemen.  They  did  not  relish  the  idea  of  private  individuals, 
principally  residents  in  the  manufacturing  districts,  invading  their 
domains,  and  they  every -where  rose  up  in  arms  against  the  "new- 
fangled roads."  Colonel  Sibthorpe  openly  declared  his  hatred  of 
the  "  infernal  railroads,"  and  said  that  he  "would  rather  meet  a  high- 
wayman, or  see  a  burglar  on  his  premises,  than  an  engineer !  "  Mr. 
Berkeley,  the  member  for  Cheltenham,  at  a  public  meeting  in  that 
town,  re-echoed  Colonel  Sibthorpe's  sentiments,  and  "wished  that 
the  concoctors  of  every  such  scheme,  with  their  solicitors  and  engi- 
neers, were  at  rest  in  Paradise!"  The  impression  prevailed  among 
the  rural  classes  that  fox-covers  and  game-preserves  would  be  seriously 
prejudiced  by  the  formation  of  railroads ;  that  agricultural  communi- 
cations would  be  destroyed,  land  thrown  out  of  cultivation,  land- 
owners and  farmers  reduced  to  beggary,  the  poor-rates  increased 
through  the  number  of  persons  thrown  out  of  employment  by  the 
railways,  and  all  this  in  order  that  Liverpool,  Manchester,  and  Bir- 
mingham shop-keepers  and  manufacturers  might  establish  a  monstrous 
monopoly  in  railway  traffic. 

The  inhabitants  of  even  some  of  the  large  towns  were  thrown  into 
a  state  of  consternation  by  the  proposal  to  provide  them  with  the  ac- 
commodation of  a  railway.  The  line  from  London  to  Birmingham 
would  naturally  have  passed  close  to  the  handsome  town  of  North- 
ampton, and  was  so  projected.  But  the  inhabitants  of  the  place, 
urged  on  by  the  local  press,  and  excited  by  men  of  influence  and 
education,  opposed  the  project,  and  succeeded  in  forcing  the  pro- 
moters, in  their  survey  of  the  line,  to  pass  the  town  at  a  distance. 
The  necessity  was  thus  involved  of  distorting  the  line,  by  which  the 
enormous  expense  of  constructing  the  Kilsby  Tunnel  was  incurred. 
Not  many  years  elapsed  before  the  inhabitants  of  Northampton  be- 
came clamorous  for  railway  accommodation,  and  a  special  branch  was 
constructed  for  them.  The  additional  cost  involved  by  this  forced 
deviation  of  the  line  could  not  have  amounted  to  less  than  half  a 
million  sterling;  the  loss  falling,  not  upon  the  shareholders  only,  but 


180  GEORGE     STEPHENSON. 

upon  the  public.  Other  towns  in  the  south  followed  the  example  of 
Northampton  in  howling  down  the  railways. 

Mr.  Stephenson  was  asked  to  undertake  the  office  of  engineer  of 
the  Leicester  and  Swannington  Railway,  but  his  answer  was  that  he 
had  thirty  miles  of  railway  in  hand,  which  was  enough  for  any  engi- 
neer to  attend  to  properly.  Was  there  any  person  he  could  recom- 
mend? "Well,"  said  he,  "I  think  my  son  Robert  is  competent  to 
undertake  the  thing."  Would  Mr.  Stephenson  be  answerable  for  him? 
Oh,  yes,  certainly."  And  Robert  Stephenson,  at  twenty-seven  years  of 
age,  was  installed  engineer  of  the  line. 

While  the  road  was  in  progress,  Robert  kept  up  a  regular  corre- 
spondence with  his  father  at  Liverpool,  consulting  him  on  all  points 
in  which  his  greater  experience  was  likely  to  be  of  service.  Like  his 
father,  Robert  was  very  observant,  and  always  ready  to  seize  oppor- 
tunity by  the  forelock.  It  happened  that  the  estate  of  Snibston,  near 
Ashby-de-la-Zouch,  was  advertised  for  sale,  and  the  young  engineer's 
experience  as  a  coal-viewer  and  practical  geologist  suggested  to  his 
mind  that  coal  was  most  probably  to  be  found  underneath.  He 
communicated  his  views  to  his  father  on  the  subject.  The  estate  lay 
in  the  immediate  neighborhood  of  the  railway ;  and  if  the  conjecture 
proved  correct,  the  finding  of  the  coal  must  necessarily  prove  a  most 
fortunate  circumstance  for  the  purchasers  of  the  land.  He  accord- 
ingly requested  his  father  to  come  over  to  Snibston  and  look  at  the 
property,  which  he  did ;  and  after  a  careful  inspection  of  the  ground, 
he  arrived  at  the  same  conclusion  as  his  son. 

The  large  manufacturing  town  of  Leicester,  about  fourteen  miles 
distant,  had,  up  to  that  time,  been  exclusively  supplied  with  coal 
brought  by  canal  from  Derbyshire,  and  the  Stephensons  saw  that  the 
railway  under  construction  from  Swannington  to  Leicester  would 
furnish  a  ready  market  for  any  coals  which  might  be  found  at  Snib- 
ston. Having  induced  two  of  his  Liverpool  friends  to  join  him  in  the 
venture,  the  Snibston  estate  was  purchased  in  1831,  and,  shortly  after, 
Stephenson  removed  his  home  from  Liverpool  to  Alton  Grange,  for 
the  purppse  of  superintending  the  sinking  of  the  pit. 

The  works  were  opened  out  on  a  large  scale,  and  George  Stephen- 
son  had  the  pleasure  and  good  fortune  to  send  the  first  train  of  main 
coal  to  Leicester  by  railway.  The  price  was  immediately  reduced 
there  to  about  8s.  a  ton,  effecting  a  pecuniary  saving  to  the  inhabit- 
ants of  the  town  of  about  4o,ooo/.  per  annum,  or  equivalent  to  the 
whole  amount  then  collected  in  government  taxes  and  local  rates, 
besides  giving  an  impetus  to  the  manufacturing  prosperity  of  the 
place,  which  has  continued  to  the  present  day.  The  correct  princi- 
ples upon  which  the  mining  operations  at  Snibston  were  conducted 
offered  a  salutary  example  to  the  neighboring  colliery  owners.  The 
numerous  improvements  there  introduced  were  freely  exhibited  to 
all,  and  they  were  afterward  reproduced  in  many  forms  all  over  the 
Midland  Counties,  greatly  to  the  advantage  of  the  mining  interest. 


A      KIND      AND     CAREFUL      EMPLOYER.  181 

Mr.  Stephenson  was  attentive  to  the  comfort  and  well-being  of 
those  immediately  dependent  upon  him — the .  work-people  of  his 
colliery  and  their  families.  Unlike  many  large  employers  who  have 
"  sprung  from  the  ranks,"  he  was  one  of  the  kindest  and  most  indulgent 
of  masters.  He  would  have  a  fair  day's  work  for  a  fair  day's  wages, 
but  he  never  forgot  that  the  employer  had  his  duties  as  well  as  his 
rights.  First  of  all,  he  attended  to  the  proper  home  accommodation 
of  his  work-people.  He  erected  a  village  of  comfortable  cottages, 
each  provided  with  a  snug  little  garden.  He  was  also  instrumental 
in  erecting  a  church  adjacent  to  the  works,  as  well  as  Church  schools 
for  the  education  of  the  colliers'  children ;  and  with  that  broad 
catholicity  of  sentiment  which  distinguished  him,  he  farther  provided 
a  chapel  and  a  school-house  for  the  use  of  the  dissenting  portion  of 
the  colliers  and  their  families — an  example  of  benevolent  liberality 
which  was  not  without  a  salutary  influence  upon  the  neighboring 
employers. 

ROBERT    STEPHENSON    CONSTRUCTS   THE   LONDON  AND    BIRMINGHAM 

RAILWAY. 

Of  the  extensive  projects  which  followed  close  upon  the  comple- 
tion of  the  Liverpool  and  Manchester  line,  that  of  a  railway  between 
London  and  Birmingham  was  the  most  important.  The  scheme 
originated  in  1830.  Two  plans  were  proposed.  One  to  London  by 
way  of  Oxford,  and  the  other  by  Coventry.  They  resolved  to  call 
George  Stephenson  to  their  aid,  and  requested  him  to  advise  them 
as  to  the  two  schemes.  After  a  careful  examination,  Stephenson  re- 
ported in  favor  of  the  Coventry  route.  The  Lancashire  gentlemen, 
who  were  the  principal  subscribers,  supported  his  decision,  and  that 
line  was  adopted. 

At  the  meeting  of  gentlemen,  held  at  Birmingham,  to  determine 
the  appointment  of  engineer,  there  was  a  strong  party  in  favor  of 
associating  with  Stephenson  a  gentleman  with  whom  he  had  been 
brought  into  serious  collision.  When  the  offer  was  made  to  him,  he 
requested  leave  to  retire  and  consider  the  proposal  with  his  son.  The 
father  was  in  favor  of  accepting  it.  His  struggle  heretofore  had  been 
so  hard  that  he  could  not  bear  the  idea  of  missing  so  promising  an 
opportunity  of  professional  advancement.  But  the  son,  foreseeing 
the  jealousies  and  heartburnings  which  it  would  most  probably  create, 
recommended  his  father  to  decline.  George  adopted  the  suggestion, 
and,  returning  to  the  committee,  he  announced  his  decision,  on  which 
they  decided  to  appoint  him  in  conjunction  with  his  son 

Public  meetings  were  held  in  all  the  counties  through  which  the 
line  would  pass,  at  which  the  project  was  denounced,  and  strong  re- 
solutions against  it  were  passed.  Robert  Stephenson,  describing  the 
opposition,  said,  "  We  called  one  day  on  Sir  Astley  Cooper,  the 
eminent  surgeon,  in  hope  of  overcoming  his  aversion  to  the  railway. 


182  GEORGE     STEPHENSON. 

He  was  one  of  our  most  inveterate  and  influential  opponents.  His 
country  house  at  Berkhamstead  was  situated  near  the  intended  line, 
which  passed  through  part  of  his  property.  We  found  a  courtly,  fine- 
looking  old  gentleman,  of  very  stately  manners,  who  received  us 
kindly,  and  heard  all  we  had  to  say  in  favor  of  the  project.  But  he 
was  quite  inflexible  in  his  opposition  to  it.  No  deviation  or  improve- 
ment that  we  could  suggest  had  any  effect  in  conciliating  him.  He 
was  opposed  to  railways  generally,  and  to  this  in  particular.  '  Your 
scheme,'  said  he,  '  is  preposterous  in  the  extreme.  It  is  of  so  ex- 
travagant a  character  as  to  be  positively  absurd.  Then  look  at  the 
recklessness  of  your  proceedings  !  You  are  proposing  to  cut  up  our 
estates  in  all  directions  for  the  purpose  of  making  an  unnecessary  road. 
Do  you  think  for  one  moment  of  the  destruction  of  property  involved 
by  it  ?  Why,  gentlemen,  if  this  sort  of  thing  be  permitted  to  go  on, 
you  will  in  a  very  few  years  destroy  the  noblesse  /'  We  left  the  honor- 
able baronet  without  having  produced  the  slightest  effect  upon  him, 
excepting,  perhaps,  it  might  be,  increased  exasperation  against  our 
scheme.  I  could  not  help  observing  to  my  companions  as  we  left 
the  house,  '  Well,  it  is  really  provoking  to  find  one  who  has  been 
made  a  "  Sir"  for  cutting  that  wen  out  of  George  the  Fourth's  neck, 
charging  us  with  contemplating  the  destruction  of  the  noblesse,  be- 
cause we  propose  to  confer  upon  him  the  benefits  of  a  railroad.'  ' 

Such  being  the  opposition  of  the  owners  of  land,  it  was  with  the 
greatest  difficulty  that  an  accurate  survey  of  the  line  could  be  made. 
An  instructive  commentary  on  the  mode  by  which  these  noble  lords 
and  influential  landed  proprietors  were  finally  "conciliated"  was 
found  in  the  simple  fact  that  the  estimate  for  land  was  nearly  trebled, 
and  that  the  owners  were  paid  about  750,0007.  for  what  had  been 
originally  estimated  at  250, ooo/.  The  total  expenses  of  carrying  the 
bill  through  Parliament  amounted  to  the  enormous  sum  of  72,868/. 

Robert  Stephenson  was,  with  his  father's  sanction,  appointed 
engineer-in-chief  of  the  line,  at  a  salary  of  i,5oo/.  a  year.  He  was 
now  a  married  man,  having  become  united  to  Miss  Frances  Sander- 
son in  1829,  since  which  his  home  had  been  at  Newcastle,  near  to 
the  works  there ;  but,  on  receiving  his  new  appointment,  he  removed 
with  his  wife  to  London,  to  a  house  on  Haverstock  Hill,  where  he 
resided  during  the  execution  of  the  Birmingham  Railway. 

The  difficulties  encountered  in  the  construction  of  this  railway  were 
very  great,  the  most  formidable  of  them  originating  in  the  character 
of  the  work.  Extensive  tunnels  had  to  be  driven  through  unknown 
strata,  and  miles  of  underground  excavation  had  to  be  carried  out  in 
order  to  form  a  level  road  from  valley  to  valley  under  the  interven- 
ing ridges.  This  kind  of  work  was  the  newest  of  all  to  the  contract- 
ors of  that  day.  Robert  Stephenson's  experience  in  the  collieries  of 
the  North  rendered  him  well  fitted  to  grapple  with  such  difficulties ; 
yet  even  he,  with  all  his  practical  knowledge,  could  scarcely  have 
forseen  the  serious  obstacles  which  he  was  called  upon  to  encounter. 


AN     INTERESTING     COMPARISON.  183 

The  magnitude  of  the  works,  which  were  unprecedented  in  Eng- 
land, was  one  of  the  most  remarkable  features  in  the  undertaking. 
The  following  striking  comparison  has  been  made  between  this  rail- 
way and  one  of  the  greatest  works  of  ancient  times.  The  great  Pyr- 
amid of  Egypt  was,  according  to  Diodorus  Siculus,  constructed  by 
three  hundred  thousand — according  to  Herodotus,  by  one  hundred 
thousand — men.  It  required  for  its  execution  twenty  years,  and  the 
labor  expended  upon  it  has  been  estimated  as  equivalent  to  lifting 
15,733,000,000  of  cubic  feet  of  stone  one  foot  high;  whereas,  if  the 
labor  expended  in  constructing  the  London  and  Birmingham  Railway 
be  in  like  manner  reduced  to  one  common  denomination,  the  result 
is  25,000,000,000  of  cubic  feet  more  than  was  lifted  for  the  Great 
Pyramid ;  and  yet  the  English  work  was  performed  by  about  20,000 
men  in  less  than  five  years.  And  while  the  Egyptian  work  was  exe- 
cuted by  a  powerful  monarch  concentrating  upon  it  the  labor  and 
capital  of  a  great  nation,  the  English  railway  was  constructed,  in  the 
face  of  every  conceivable  obstruction  and  difficulty,  by  a  company  of 
private  individuals  out  of  their  own  resources,  without  the  aid  of  gov- 
ernment or  the  contribution  of  one  farthing  of  public  money. 

The  laborers  who  executed  these  formidable  works  were  in  many 
respects  a  remarkable  class.  The  "railway  navvies,"*  as  they  were 
called,  were  men  drawn  by  the  attraction  of  good  wages  from  all  parts 
of  the  kingdom ;  and  they  were  ready  for  any  sort  of  hard  work. 
Many  of  the  laborers  employed  on  the  Liverpool  line  were  Irish ; 
others  were  from  the  Northumberland  and  Durham  railways,  where 
they  had  been  accustomed  to  similar  work ;  and  some  of  the  best  came 
from  the  fen  districts  of  Lincoln  and  Cambridge,  where  they  had 
been  trained  to  execute  works  of  excavation  and  embankment.  These 
old  practitioners  formed  a  nucleus  of  skilled  manipulation  and  apti- 
tude which  rendered  them  of  indispensable  utility  in  the  immense 
undertakings  of  the  period.  Their  expertness  in  all  sorts  of  earth- 
work, in  embanking,  boring,  and  well-sinking — their  practical  knowl- 
edge of  the  nature  of  soils  and  rocks,  the  tenacity  of  clays,  and  the 
porosity  of  certain  stratifications — were  very  great ;  and,  rough-look- 
ing as  they  were,  many  of  them  were  as  important  in  their  own  de- 
partment as  the  contractor  or  the  engineer. 

During  the  railway-making  period  the  navvy  wandered  about  from 
one  public  work  to  another,  apparently  belonging  to  no  country  and 
having  no  home.  He  usually  wore  a  white  felt  hat,  with  the  brim 
turned  up,  a  velveteen  or  Jean  square-tailed  coat,  a  scarlet  plush  waist- 
coat with  little  black  spots,  and  a  bright-colored  kerchief  round  his 
Herculean  neck,  when,  as  often  happened,  it  was  not  left  entirely 
bare.  His  corduroy  breeches  were  retained  in  position  by  a  leathern 
strap  round  the  waist,  and  were  tied  and  buttoned  at  the  knee,  dis- 

•The  word  "  navvy,"  or  "  navigator,"  is  supposed  to  have  originated  in  the  fact 
of  many  of  these  laborers  having  been  originally  employed  in  making  the  naviga- 
tions, or  canals,  the  construction  of  which  immediately  preceded  the  railway  era. 


184  GEORGE     STEPHENSON. 

playing  beneath  a  solid  calf  and  foot  incased  in  strong,  high-laced 
boots.  Joining  together  in  a  "  butty  gang,"  some  ten  or  twelve  of 
these  men  would  take  a  contract  to  cut  out  and  remove  so  much 
"  dirt " — as  they  denominated  earth-cutting — fixing  their  price  accord- 
ing to  the  character  of  the  "stuff,"  and  the  distance  to  which  it 
had  to  be  wheeled  and  tipped.  The  contract  taken,  every  man  put 
himself  to  his  metal ;  if  any  was  found  skulking,  or  not  putting  forth 
his  full  working  power,  he  was  ejected  from  the  gang.  Their  powers 
of  endurance  were  extraordinary.  In  times  of  emergency,  they  would 
work  for  twelve  and  even  sixteen  hours,  with  only  short  intervals  for 
meals.  The  quantity  of  flesh  meat  which  they  consumed  was  some- 
thing enormous ;  but  it  was  to  their  bones  and  muscles  what  coke  is 
to  the  locomotive — the  means  of  keeping  up  the  steam.  They  dis- 
played great  pluck,  and  seemed  to  disregard  peril.  Indeed,  the  most 
dangerous  sort  of  labor — such  as  working  horse-barrow  runs,  in  which 
accidents  are  of  constant  occurrence — has  always  been  most  in  request 
among  them,  the  danger  seeming  to  be  one  of  its  chief  recommen- 
dations. 

Working  together,  eating,  drinking,  and  sleeping  together,  and 
daily  exposed  to  the  same  influences,  these  railway  laborers  soon  pre- 
sented a  distinct  and  well-defined  character,  strongly  marking  them 
from  the  population  of  the  districts  in  which  they  labored.  Reckless 
alike  of  their  lives  as  of  their  earnings,  the  navvies  worked  hard  and 
lived  hard.  For  their  lodgings,  a  hut  of  turf  would  content  them ; 
and,  in  their  hours  of  leisure,  the  meanest  public  house  would  serve 
for  their  parlor.  Unburdened,  as  they  usually  were,  by  domestic 
ties,  unsoftened  by  family  affection,  and  without  much  moral  or  re- 
ligious training,  the  navvies  came  to  be  distinguished  by  a  sort  of 
savage  manners,  which  contrasted  strangely  with  those  of  the  sur- 
rounding population.  Yet,  ignorant  and  violent  though  they  might 
be,  they  were  usually  good-hearted  fellows  in  the  main — frank  and 
open-handed  with  their  comrades,  and  ready  to  share  their  last  penny 
with  those  in  distress.  Their  pay-nights  were  often  a  saturnalia  of 
riot  and  disorder,  dreaded  by  the  inhabitants  of  the  villages  along 
the  line  of  works.  The  irruption  of  such  men  into  the  quiet  hamlet 
of  Kilsby  must,  indeed,  have  produced  a  very  startling  effect  on  the 
recluse  inhabitants  of  the  place.  Robert  Stephenson  used  to  tell  a 
story  of  the  clergyman  of  the  parish  waiting  upon  the  foreman  of 
one  of  the  gangs  to  expostulate  with  him  as  to  the  shocking  impro- 
priety of  his  men  working  during  Sunday.  But  the  head  navvy 
merely  hitched  up  his  trowsers  and  said,  "  Why,  Soondays  hain't 
cropt  out  here  yet !"  In  short,  the  navvies  were  little  better  than 
heathens,  and  the  village  of  Kilsby  was  not  restored  to  its  wonted 
quiet  until  the  tunnel-works  were  finished,  and  the  engines  and  scaf- 
folding removed,  leaving  only  the  immense  masses  of  debris  around 
the  line  of  shafts  which  extend  along  the  top  of  the  tunnel. 


GROWTH     OF     RAILWAYS.  185 

MIDLAND   RAILWAY — STEPHENSON'S   LIFE   AT   ALTON — VISIT  TO  BELGIUM 
— GENERAL   EXTENSION    OF   RAILWAYS   AND   THEIR  RESULTS. 

The  rapidity  with  which  railways  were  carried  out,  when  the  spirit 
of  the  country  became  roused,  was  indeed  remarkable.  This  was 
doubtless  in  some  measure  owing  to  the  increased  force  of  the  cur- 
rent of  speculation  at  the  time,  but  chiefly  to  the  desire  which  the 
public  began  to  entertain  for  the  general  extension  of  the  system. 
It  was  even  proposed  to  fill  up  the  canals  and  convert  them  into 
railways.  The  new  roads  became  the  topic  of  conversation  in  all  cir- 
cles ;  they  were  felt  to  give  a  new  value  to  time ;  their  vast  capabili- 
ties for  "business"  peculiarly  recommended  them  to  the  trading 
classes,  while  the  friends  of  "progress  "  dilated  on  the  great  benefits 
they  would  eventually  confer  upon  mankind  at  large.  It  began  to 
be  seen  that  Edward  Pease  had  not  been  exaggerating  when  he  said, 
"Let  the  country  but  make  the  railroads,  and  the  railroads  will 
make  the  country!"  They  also  came  to  be  regarded  as  inviting  ob- 
jects of  investment  to  the  thrifty,  and  a  safe  outlet  for  the  accumu- 
lations of  inert  men  of  capital.  Thus  new  avenues  of  iron  road 
were  soon  in  course  of  formation,  branching  in  all  directions,  so 
that  the  country  promised,  in  a  wonderfully  short  space  of  time,  to 
become  wrapped  in  one  vast  network  of  iron. 

The  Midland  Railway  was  a  favorite  line  of  Mr.  Stephenson's.  It 
passed  through  a  rich  mining  district,  with  valuable  coal-fields,  and 
it  formed  part  of  the  main  line  between  London  and  Edinburgh. 
Although  one  of  the  many  great  works,  it  was  enough  of  itself  to  be 
the  achievement  of  a  life.  Compare  it  with  Napoleon's  military  road 
over  the  Simplon,  and  it  will  at  once  be  seen  how  greatly  it  excels 
that  work,  not  only  in  the  constructive  skill  displayed,  but  also  in  cost 
and  magnitude,  and  the  amount  of  labor  employed.  The  road  of 
the  Simplon  is  45  miles  in  length;  the  North  Midland,  72^  miles. 
The  former  has  50  bridges  and  5  tunnels,  measuring  together  1,338 
feet  in  length  ;  the  latter  has  200  bridges  and  7  tunnels,  measuring 
together  11,400  feet,  or  about  2^  miles.  The  former  cost  about 
720,ooo/.  sterling,  the  latter  above  3,ooo,ooo/.  Napoleon's  grand 
military  road  was  constructed  in  six  years,  at  the  public  cost  of  the 
two  great  kingdoms  of  France  and  Italy,  while  Stephenson's  railway 
was  formed  in  about  three  years,  by  a  company  of  private  merchants 
and  capitalists,  out  of  their  own  funds  and  under  their  own  superin- 
tendence. 

It  is  scarcely  necessary  that  we  should  give  any  account  in  detail 
of  the  North  Midland  works.  The  making  of  one  tunnel  so  much 
resembles  the  making  of  another — the  building  of  bridges  and  viaducts, 
no  matter  how  extensive,  so  much  resembles  the  building  of  others — 
the  cutting  out  of  "dirt,"  the  blasting  of  rocks,  and  the  wheeling 
of  excavation  into  embankments,  is  so  much  matter  of  mere  time  and 


1 86  GEORGE      STEPHEN*  SON. 

hard  work,  that  it  is  quite  unnecessary  to  detain  the  reader  by  any 
attempt  at  their  description.  Of  course  there  were  the  usual  diffi- 
culties to  encounter  and  overcome,  but  the  engineer  regarded  these 
as  matters  of  course,  and  would  probably  have  been  disappointed  if 
they  had  not  presented  themselves. 

George  Stephenson,  when  out  on  foot  in  the  field,  was  ever  fore- 
most, and  delighted  to  test  the  prowess  of  his  companions  by  a  good 
jump  at  any  hedge  or  ditch  that  lay  in  their  way.  His  companions 
used  to  remark  his  singular  quickness  of  observation.  Nothing  escaped 
his  attention — the  trees,  the  crops,  the  birds,  or  the  farmer's  stock  ; 
and  he  was  usually  full  of  lively  conversation,  making  some  striking 
remark  or  propounding  some  ingenious  theory.  When  taking  a  flying 
survey  of  a  new  line,  he  rapidly  noted  the  general  face  of  the  country, 
and  inferred  its  Geological  structure.  He  once  remarked  to  a  friend, 
"I  have  planned  many  a  railway  traveling  along  in  a  post-chaise." 
His  first  impressions  of  the  direction  to  be  taken  almost  invariably 
proved  correct ;  and  there  are  few  of  the  lines  recommended  by  him 
which  have  not  been  executed.  As  an  illustration  of  his  quick  and 
shrewd  observation  we  may  mention  that,  when  employed  to  lay  out 
a  line  to  connect  Manchester  with  the  Potteries,  the  gentleman  who 
accompanied  him  cautioned  him  to  provide  large  accommodation  for 
carrying  off  the  water,  observing,  "You  must  not  judge  by  the  ap- 
pearance of  the  brooks ;  for  after  heavy  rains  these  hills  pour  down 
volumes  of  water."  "Pooh!  pooh!  don't  I  see -your  bridges?"  re- 
plied the  engineer. 

While  occupied  in  carrying  out  great  railway  undertakings  which  we 
have  not  even  named,  George  Stephenson 's  home  continued,  for  the 
greater  part  of  the  time,  to  be  at  Alton  Grange,  near  Leicester.  But  he 
was  so  much  occupied  in  traveling  about  from  one  committee  of  directors 
to  another — one  week  in  England,  another  in  Scotland,  and  probably 
the  next  in  Ireland,  that  he  often  did  not  see  his  home  for  weeks 
together.  He  also  made  frequent  inspections  of  various  important 
and  difficult  works  in  progress,  especially  on  the  Midland  and  Man- 
chester and  Leeds  lines,  besides  occasionally  going  to  Newcastle  to 
see  how  the  locomotive  works  were  going  on  there.  During  the 
three  years  ending  1837 — perhaps  the  busiest  years  of  his  life* — he 
traveled  by  post-chaise  alone  upward  of  20,000  miles,  and  yet  not 
less  than  six  months  out  of  the  three  years  were  spent  in  London. 
Hence  there  is  comparatively  little  to  record  of  Mr.  Stephenson 's 


*  During  this  period,  he  was  engaged  on  the  North  Midland,  from  Derby  to 
Leeds ;  the  York  and  North  Midland,  from  Normanton  to  York ;  the  Manchester 
and  Leeds ;  the  Birmingham  and  Derby,  and  the  Sheffield  and  Rotherham  Rail- 
ways ;  the  whole  of  these,  of  which  he  was  principal  engineer,  having  been  author- 
ized in  1836.  In  that  session  arrangements  were  made  for  the  construction  of  214 
miles  of  new  railways  under  his  direction,  at  an  expenditure  of  upwards  of  five 
millions  sterling. 


PROJECTS     AND     INTENSE      APPLICATION.  187 

private  life  at  this  period,  during  which  he  had  scarcely  a  moment 
that  he  could  call  his  own. 

To  give  an  idea  of  the  number  of  his  projects,  and  of  the  extent  and 
rapidity  of  his  journeys,  we  subjoin  from  his  private  secretary's  jour- 
nal the  following  epitome  of  one  journey  in  1836,  which  will  indicate 
his  great  application  to  business  : 

"  August  9th.  From  Alton  Grange  to  Derby  and  Matlock,  and 
forward  by  mail  to  Manchester,  to  meet  the  committee  of  the  South 
Union  Railway.  August  loth.  Manchester  to  Stockport,  to  meet 
committee  of  the  Manchester  and  Leeds  Railway;  thence  to  meet 
directors  of  the  Chester  and  Birkenhead,  and  Chester  and  Crewe 
Railways.  August  nth.  Liverpool  to  Woodside,  to  meet  committee 
of  the  Chester  and  Birkenhead  line;  journey  with  them  along  the 
proposed  railway  to  Chester;  then  back  to  Liverpool.  August  iath. 
Liverpool  to  Manchester,  to  meet  directors  of  the  Manchester  and 
Leeds  Railway,  and  traveling  with  them  over  the  works  in  progress. 
August  1 3th.  Continued  journey  over  the  works,  and  arrival  at 
Wakefield:  thence  to  York.  August  i4th.  Meeting  with  Mr.  Hud- 
son at  York,  and  journey  from  York  to  Newcastle.  August  isth. 
At  Newcastle,  working  up  arrears  of  correspondence.  August  i6th. 
Meeting  with  Mr.  Brandling  as  to  the  station  for  the  Brandling 
Junction  at  Gateshead,  and  stations  at  other  parts  of  the  line. 
August  i  yth.  Carlisle  to  Wigton  and  Maryport,  examining  the  rail- 
way. August  ipth.  Maryport  to  Carlisle,  continuing  the  inspec- 
tion. August  2oth.  At  Carlisle,  examining  the  ground  for  a  station  ; 
and  working  up  correspondence.  August  2ist.  Carlisle  to  Dumfries 
by  mail ;  forward  to  Ayr  by  chaise,  proceeding  up  the  valley  of  the 
Nith,  through  Thornhill,  Sanquhar,  and  Cumnock.  August  2ad. 
Meeting  with  promoters  of  the  Glasgow,  Kilmarnock,  and  Ayr  Rail- 
way, and  journey  along  the  proposed  line  ;  meeting  with  the  magis- 
trates of  Kilmarnock  at  Beith,  and  journey  with  them  over  Mr.  Gale's 
proposed  line  to  Kilmarnock.  August  23d.  From  Kilmarnock  along 
Mr.  Miller's  proposed  line  to  Beith,  Paisley,  and  Glasgow.  August 
24th.  Examination  of  site  of  proposed  station  at  Glasgow ;  meeting 
with  the  directors ;  then  from  Glasgow,  by  Falkirk  and  Linlithgow, 
to  Edinburgh,  meeting  there  with  Mr.  Grainger,  engineer,  and  several 
of  the  committee  of  the  proposed  Edinburgh  and  Dunbar  Railway. 
August  25th.  Examining  the  site  of  the  proposed  station  at  Edin- 
burgh ,  then  to  Dunbar,  by  Portobello  and  Haddington,  examining 
the  proposed  line  of  railway.  August  26th.  Dunbar  to  Tommy 
Grant's,  to  examine  the  summit  of  the  country  toward  Berwick,  with 
a  view  to  a  through  line  to  Newcastle ;  then  return  to  Edinburgh. 
August  27th.  At  Edinburgh,  meeting  the  provisional  committee  of 
the  proposed  Edinburgh  and  Dunbar  Railway.  August  28th.  Jour- 
ney from  Edinburgh,  through  Melrose  and  Jedburg,  to  Horsley,  along 
the  route  of  Mr.  Richardson's  proposed  railway  across  Carter  Fell. 
August  29th.  From  Horsley  to  Mr.  Brandling's,  then  on  to  New- 


l88  GEORGE     STEPHENSON. 

castle;  engaged  on  the  Brandling  Junction  Railway.  August  3oth. 
Engaged  with  Mr.  Brandling ;  after  which,  meeting  a  deputation  from 
Maryport.  August  3ist.  Meeting  with  Mr.  Brandling  and  others 
as  to  the  direction  of  the  Brandling  Junction  in  connection  with  the 
Great  North  of  England  line,  and  the  course  of  the  railway  through 
Newcastle ;  then  on  to  York.  September  ist.  At  York ;  meeting 
with  York  and  North  Midland  directors ;  then  journeying  over  Lord 
Howden's  property,  to  arrange  for  a  deviation ;  examining  the  pro- 
posed site  of  the  station  at  York.  September  zd.  At  York,  giving 
instructions  as  to  the  survey ;  then  to  Manchester  by  Leeds.  Sep- 
tember 3d.  At  Manchester ;  journey  to  Stockport,  with  Mr.  Bidder 
and  Mr.  Bourne,  examining  the  line  to  Stockport,  and  fixing  the 
crossing  of  the  river  there ;  attending  to  the  surveys ;  then  journey 
back  to  Manchester,  to  meet  the  directors  of  the  Manchester  and 
Leeds  Railway.  September  4th.  Sunday  at  Manchester.  September 
5th.  Journey  along  part  of  the  Manchester  and  Leeds  Railway. 
September  6th.  At  Manchester,  examining  and  laying  down  the  sec- 
tion of  the  South  Union  line  to  Stockport ;  afterward  engaged  on  the 
Manchester  and  Leeds  working  plans,  in  endeavoring  to  give  a  greater 
radius  to  the  curves ;  seeing  Mr.  Seddon  about  the  Liverpool,  Man- 
chester, and  Leeds  Junction  Railway.  September  7th.  Journey 
along  the  Manchester  and  Leeds  line,  then  on  to  Derby.  September 
8th.  At  Derby;  seeing  Mr.  Carter  and  Mr.  Beale  about  the  Tarn- 
worth  deviation ;  then  home  to  Alton  Grange.  September  loth. 
At  Alton  Grange,  preparing  report  to  the  committee  of  the  Edin- 
burgh and  Dunbar  Railway." 

Such  is  a  specimen  of  the  enormous  amount  of  physical  and  mental 
labor  undergone  by  the  engineer  during  the  busy  years  referred  to. 
He  was  no  sooner  home  than  he  was  called  away  again.  Thus,  in 
four  days  after  his  arrival  at  Alton  Grange  from  the  above  journey 
into  Scotland,  we  find  him  going  over  the  whole  of  the  North  Mid- 
land line  as  far  as  Leeds;  then  by  Halifax  to  Manchester,  where  he 
staid  for  several  days  on  the  business  of  the  South  Union  line ;  then 
to  Birmingham  and  London  ;  back  to  Alton  Grange,  and  next  day 
to  Congleton  and  Leek ;  thence  to  Leeds  and  Goole,  and  home 
again  by  the  Sheffield  and  Rotherham  and  the  Midland  works.  And 
early  in  the  following  month  (October)  he  was  engaged  in  the  North 
of  Ireland,  examining  the  line,  and  reporting  upon  the  plans  of  the 
projected  Ulster  Railway.  He  was  also  called  upon  to  inspect  and 
report  upon  colliery  works,  salt  works,  brass  and  copper  works,  and 
such  like,  in  addition  to  his  own  colliery  and  railway  business.  He 
usually  also  staked  out  himself  the  lines  laid  out  by  him,  which  in- 
volved a  good  deal  of  labor  since  undertaken  by  assistants.  And  oc- 
casionally he  would  run  up  to  London,  attending  in  person  to  the 
preparation  and  depositing  of  the  plans  and  sections  of  the  projected 
undertakings  for  which  he  was  engaged  as  engineer. 

His  correspondence  increased  so  much  that  he  found  it  necessary 


BUSINESS     HABITS     AND      AMUSEMENTS.  189 

to  engage  a  private  secretary,  who  accompanied  him  on  his  journeys. 
He  was  himself  exceedingly  averse  to  writing  letters.  The  compara- 
tively advanced  age  at  which  he  learned  the  art  of  writing,  and  the 
nature  of  his  duties  while  engaged  at  thev  Killingworth  Colliery,  pre- 
cluded that  facility  in  correspondence  which  only  constant  practice 
can  give.  He  gradually,  however,  acquired  great  facility  in  dictation, 
and  had  also  the  power  of  laboring  continuously  at  this  work  ;  the 
gentleman  who  acted  as  his  secretary  in  the  year  1835,  stated  that, 
during  his  busy  season,  he  one  day  dictated  no  fewer  than  thirty-seven 
letters,  several  of  them  embodying  the  results  of  much  close  thinking 
and  calculation.  On  another  occasion  he  dictated  reports  and  letters 
for  twelve  continuous  hours,  until  his  secretary  was  ready  to  drop  off 
his  chair  from  sheer  exhaustion,  and  at  length  pleaded  for  a  suspen- 
sion of  the  labor.  This  great  mass  of  correspondence,  though  closely 
bearing  on  the  subjects  under  discussion,  was  not,  however,  of  a  kind 
to  supply  the  biographer  with  matter  for  quotation,  or  to  give  that 
insight  into  the  life  and  character  of  the  writer  which  the  letters  of 
literary  men  so  often  furnish.  They  were,  for  the  most  part,  letters 
of  mere  business,  relating  to  works  in  progress,  Parliamentary  con  tests, 
new  surveys,  estimates  of  cost,  and  railway  policy — curt,  and  to  the 
point ;  in  short,  the  letters  of  a  man  every  moment  of  whose  time 
was  precious. 

Fortunately,  George  Stephenson  possessed  a  facility  of  sleeping, 
which  enabled  him  to  pass  through  this  enormous  amount  of  fatigue 
and  labor  without  injury  to  his  health.  He  had  been  trained  in  a 
hard  school,  and  could  bear  with  ease  conditions  which,  to  men  more 
softly  nurtured,  would  have  been  the  extreme  of  physical  discomfort. 
Many,  many  nights  he  snatched  his  sleep  while  traveling  in  his 
chaise;  and  at  break  of  day  he  would  be  at  work,  surveying  until 
dark,  and  this  for  weeks  in  succession.  His  whole  powers  seemed  to 
be  under  the  control  of  his  will,  for  he  could  wake  at  any  hour,  and 
go  to  work  at  once.  It  was  difficult  for  secretaries  and  assistants  to 
keep  up  with  such  a  man. 

It  is  pleasant  to  record  that  in  the  midst  of  these  engrossing  oc- 
cupations his  heart  remained  as  soft  and  loving  as  ever.  In  spring- 
time he  would  not  be  debarred  of  his  boyish  amusement  of  bird-nest- 
ing, but  would  go  rambling  along  the  hedges  spying  for  nests.  In 
the  autumn  he  went  nutting,  and  when  he  could  snatch  a  few  minutes 
he  indulged  in  his  old  love  of  gardening.  His  uniform  kindness  and 
good  temper,  and  his  communicative,  intelligent  disposition,  made 
him  a  great  favorite  with  the  neighboring  farmers,  to  whom  he  would 
volunteer  much  valuable  advice  on  agricultural  operations,  drainage, 
plowing,  and  labor-saving  processes.  Sometimes  he  took  a  long  rural 
ride  on  his  favorite  "Bobby,"  now  growing  old,  but  as  fond  of  his 
master  as  ever.  Toward  the  end  of  his  life  "Bobby  "  lived  in  clover, 
his  master's  pet,  doing  no  work  ;  and  he  died  at  Tapton  in  1845, 
more  than  twenty  years  old. 


ipo  •    GEORGE     STEPHENSON. 

The  amount  of  Parliamentary  business  having  greatly  increased, 
the  Stephensons  found  it  necessary  to  set  up  an  office  in  London,  in 
1836.  There  consultations  were  held,  schemes  matured,  and  depu- 
tations were  received.  Besides  journeys  at  home,  Stephenson  was 
called  abroad  ;  at  the  desire  of  King  Leopold,  he  made  visits  to  Bel- 
gium, to  assist  the  Belgian  engineers.  That  monarch  early  discerned 
the  powerful  instrumentality  of  railways  in  developing  a  country's 
resources,  and  determined  at  the  earliest  possible  period  to  adopt 
them  as  the  great  highroads  of  the  nation. 

Mr.  Stephenson  made  a  second  visit,  in  1837,  on  the  opening  of 
the  line  from  Brussels  to  Ghent.  Stephenson  dined  with  the  chief 
ministers  of  state,  the  municipal  authorities,  and  five  hundred  of  the 
principal  inhabitants.  On  entering  the  room,  the  general  and  excited 
inquiry  was,  "Which  is  Stephenson?"  The  English  engineer  had 
not  before  imagined  that  he  was  esteemed  to  be  so  great  a  man. 

At  the  dinner  at  York,  which  followed  the  partial  opening  of  the 
York  and  North  Midland  Railway,  Mr.  Stephenson  said  "he  was 
sure  they  would  appreciate  his  feelings  when  he  told  them  that,  when 
he  first  began  railway  business,  his  hair  was  black,  although  it  was 
now  gray ;  and  that  he  began  his  life's  labor  as  a  poor  plowboy. 
About  thirty  years  since,  he  had  applied  himself  to  the  study  of  how 
to  generate  high  velocities  by  mechanical  means.  He  thought  he  had 
solved  that  problem ;  and  they  had  for  themselves  seen,  that  day, 
what  perseverance  had  brought  him  to.  He  was,  on  that  occasion, 
only  too  happy  to  have  an  opportunity  of  acknowledging  that  he  had, 
in  the  latter  portion  of  his  career,  received  much  most  valuable  assist- 
ance, particularly  from  young  men  brought  up  in  his  manufactory. 
Whenever  talent  showed  itself  in  a  young  man,  he  had  always  given 
that  talent  encouragement  where  he  could,  and  he  would  continue 
to  do  so/' 

This  was  no  exaggerated  statement.  Stephenson  was  no  niggard 
of  encouragement  and  praise,  when  he  saw  honest  industry  struggling 
for  a  footing.  Many  were  the  young  men  whom  he  took  by  the  hand 
and  led  steadily  up  because  he  had  noted  their  zeal,  diligence,  and 
integrity.  One  youth,  a  carpenter  on  the  Manchester  line,  before 
many  years,  was  recognized  as  an  engineer  of  distinction.  Another 
young  man,  found  industriously  working,  he  engaged  as  his  private 
secretary,  who  soon  rose  to  eminent  influence  and  usefulness.  Indeed, 
nothing  gave  him  greater  pleasure  than  to  help  any  deserving  youth. 

The  proprietors  of  the  canals  were  astounded  that,  notwithstanding 
the  immense  traffic  by  rail,  their  own  receipts  continued  to  increase ; 
and  that  they  fully  shared  in  the  expansion  of  trade  and  commerce. 
The  cattle-owners  were  amazed  to  find  the  price  of  horse-flesh  increas'- 
ing  with  the  extension  of  railways,  and  that  the  number  of  coaches 
running  to  and  from  the  new  railway  stations  gave  employment  to  a 
greater  number  of  horses  than  under  the  old  stage-coach  system. 
Those  who  had  prophesied  the  decay  of  the  metropolis,  and  the  ruin 


EFFECTS    OF    RAILWAYS — CITY    AND     COUNTY.       IQI 

of  the  suburban  cabbage-growers,  in  consequence  of  the  approach  of 
railways  to  London,  were  disappointed  ;  for,  while  the  new  roads  let 
citizens  out  of  London,  they  also  let  country  people  in.  Their  action, 
in  this  respect,  was  centripetal  as  well  as  centrifugal.  Tens  of  thou- 
sands who  had  never  seen  the  metropolis  could  now  visit  it  expedi- 
tiously  and  cheaply ;  and  Londoners  who  had  never  visited  the  coun- 
try, or  but  rarely,  were  enabled,  at  little  cost  of  time  or  money,  to 
see  green  fields  and  clear  blue  skies  far  from  the  smoke  and  bustle 
of  town. 

The  prophecies  of  ruin  and  disaster  to  landlords  and  farmers  were 
equally  confounded  by  the  openings  of  the  railways.  The  agricul- 
tural communications,  so  far  from  being  "destroyed,"  as  had  been 
predicted,  were  immensely  improved.  The  farmers  were  enabled  to 
buy  their  coals,  lime,  and  manure,  for  less  money,  while  they  obtained 
a  readier  access  to  the  best  markets  for  their  stock  and  farm-produce. 
Notwithstanding  the  predictions  to  the  contrary,  their  cows  gave 
milk  as  before,  the  sheep  fed  and  fattened,  and  even  skittish  horses 
ceased  to  shy  at  the  passing  trains.  The  smoke  of  the  engines  did 
not  obscure  the  sky,  nor  were  farm- yards  burnt  up  by  the  fire  thrown 
from  the  locomotives.  The  farming  classes  were  not  reduced  to  beg- 
gary; on  the  contrary,  they  soon  felt  that,  so  far  from  having  any 
thing  to  dread,  they  had  very  much  good  to  expect  from  the  exten- 
sion of  railways. 

Landlords  also  found  that  they  could  get  higher  rent  for  farms  sit- 
uated near  a  railway  than  at  a  distance  from  one.  Hence  they  be- 
came clamorous  for  "sidings."  They  felt  it  to  be  a  grievance  to  be 
placed  at  a  distance  from  a  station.  After  a  railway  had  been  once 
opened,  not  a  landlord  would  consent  to  have  the  line  taken  from 
him.  Owners  who  had  fought  the  promoters  before  Parliament,  and 
compelled  them  to  pass  their  domains  at  a  distance,  at  a  vastly  in- 
creased expense  in  tunnels  and  deviations,  now  petitioned  for  branches 
and  nearer  station-accommodation.  Those  who  held  property  near 
towns,  and  had  extorted  large  sums  as  compensation  for  the  antici- 
pated deterioration  in  the  value  of  their  building  land,  found  a  new 
demand  for  it  springing  up  at  greatly  advanced  prices.  Land  was 
now  advertised  for  sale  with  the  attraction  of  being  "near  a  railway 
station." 

The  prediction  that,  even  if  railways  were  made,  the  public  would 
not  use  them,  was  also  completely  falsified  by  the  results.  The  ordi- 
nary mode  of  fast  traveling  for  the  middle  classes  had,  heretofore, 
been  by  mail-coach  and  stage-coach.  Those  who  could  not  afford 
to  pay  the  high  prices  charged  by  such  conveyance  went  by  wagon, 
and  the  poorer  classes  trudged  on  foot.  George  Stephenson  was  wont 
to  say  that  he  hoped  to  see  the  day  when  it  would  be  cheaper  for 
a  poor  man  to  travel  by  railway  than  to  walk,  and  not  many  years 
passed  before  his  expectation  was  fulfilled.  The  railway  proved  a  great 
benefactor  to  men  of  industry  in  all  classes. 


192  GEORGE     STEPHENS©  N. 

Many  deplored  the  inevitable  downfall  of  the  old  stage-coach  sys- 
tem. There  was  to  be  an  end  of  that  delightful  variety  of  incident 
usually  attendant  on  a  journey  by  road.  The  rapid  scamper  across 
a  fine  country  on  the  outside  of  a  four-horse  "Express"  or  "High- 
flyer;" the  seat  on  the  box  beside  Jehu,  or  the  equally  coveted  place 
near  the  facetious  guard  behind ;  the  journey  amid  open  green  fields, 
through  smiling  villages  and  fine  old  towns,  where  the  stage  stopped 
to  change  horses  and  the  passengers  to  dine,  was  all  very  delightful 
in  its  way,  and  many  regretted  that  this  old-fashioned  and  pleasant 
style  of  traveling  was  about  to  pass  away. 

The  avidity  with  which  the  public  at  once  availed  themselves  of 
the  railways  proved  that  a  better  system  had  been  discovered.  Not- 
withstanding the  reduction  of  the  coach-fares  on  many  of  the  roads 
to  one-third  of  their  previous  rate,  the  public  preferred  traveling  by 
railway.  They  saved  in  time,  and  they  saved  in  money,  taking  the 
whole  expenses  into  account. 

It  was  some  time  before  the  more  opulent  classes,  who  could  afford 
to  post  to  town  in  aristocratic  style,  became  reconciled  to  the  railway 
train.  It  put  an  end  to  that  gradation  of  rank  in  traveling  which 
was  one  of  the  few  things  left  by  which  the  nobleman  could  be  dis- 
tinguished from  the  Manchester  manufacturer  and  bagman.  But  to 
younger  sons  of  noble  families  the  convenience  and  cheapness  of  the 
railway  did  not  fail  to  commend  itself.  One  of  these,  whose  eldest 
brother  had  just  succeeded  to  an  earldom,  said  to  a  railway  manager, 
"I  like  railways;  they  just  suit  young  fellows  like  me,  with  'nothing 
per  annum,  paid  quarterly.'  You  know,  we'  can't  afford  to  post,  and 
it  used  to  be  deuced  annoying  to  me,  as  I  was  jogging  along  on  the 
box-seat  of  the  stage-coach,  to  see  the  little  earl  go  by,  drawn  by  his 
four  posters,  and  just  look  up  at  me  and  give  me  a  nod.  But  now, 
with  railways,  it's  different.  It's  true,  he  may  take  a  first-class  ticket, 
while  I  can  only  afford  a  second-class  one,  but  we  both  go  the  same 
pace. ' ' 

For  a  time,  however,  many  of  the  old  families  sent  forward  their 
servants  and  luggage  by  railroad,  and  condemned  themselves  to  jog 
along  the  old  highway  in  the  accustomed  family  chariot,  dragged  by 
country  post-horses.  But  the  superior  comfort  of  the  railway  shortly 
recommended  itself  to  even  the  oldest  families;  posting  went  out  of 
date ;  post-horses  were  with  difficulty  to  be  had  along  even  the  great 
high-roads;  and  nobles  and  servants,  manufacturers  and  peasants, 
alike  shared  in  the  comfort,  the  convenience,  and  the  dispatch  of  rail- 
way traveling.  The  late  Dr.  Arnold,  of  Rugby,  regarded  the  open- 
ing of  the  London  and  Birmingham  line  as  another  great  step  ac- 
complished in  the  march  of  civilization.  "I  rejoice  to  see  it,"  he 
said,  as  he  stood  on  one  of  the  bridges  over  the  railway,  and  watched  the 
train  flashing  along  under  him,  and  away  through  the  distant  hedge- 
rows— "I rejoice  to  see  it,  and  to  think  that  feudality  is  gone  forever: 
it  is  so  great  a  blessing  to  think  that  any  one  evil  is  really  extinct." 


OPENS     NEW     COAL     MINES.  193 

It  was  long  before  the  late  Duke  of  Wellington  would  trust  him- 
self behind  a  locomotive.  The  fatal  accident  to  Mr.  Huskisson, 
which  had  happened  before  his  eyes,  contributed  to  prejudice  him 
strongly  against  railways,  and  it  was  not  until  the  year  1843,  tnat  ne 
performed  his  first  trip  on  the  South-western  Railway,  in  attendance 
upon  her  majesty.  Prince  Albert  had  for  some  time  been  accustomed 
to  travel  by  railway  alone,  but  in  1842  the  queen  began  to  make  use 
of  the  same  mode  of  conveyance  between  Windsor  and  London. 

GEORGE  STEPHENSON'S  COAL-MINES  —  APPEARS  AT  MECHANICS'  INSTI- 
TUTES— HIS  OPINION  ON   RAILWAY  SPEEDS ATMOSPHERIC   SYSTEM 

RAILWAY    MANIA — VISITS  TO  BELGIUM  AND   SPAIN. 

While  George  Stephenson  was  engaged  on  the  works  of  the  Mid- 
land Railway,  in  the  neighborhood  of  Chesterfield,  several  seams  of 
coal  were  cut  through  in  the  Claycross  Tunnel,  when  it  occurred  to 
him  that  if  mines  were  opened  out  there,  the  railway  would  provide 
the  means  of  a  ready  sale  for  the  article  in  the  midland  counties, 
and  even  as  far  south  as  the  metropolis  itself. 

At  a  time  when  every  body  else  was  skeptical  as  to  the  possibility 
of  coals  being  carried  from  the  midland  counties  to  London,  he 
induced  some  of  his  Liverpool  friends  to  join  him  in  a  coal-mining 
adventure  at  Chesterfield.  A  lease  was  taken  of  the  Claycross  estate, 
then  for  sale,  and  operations  were  shortly  after  begun.  At  a  subse- 
quent period,  Stephenson  extended  his  coal-mining  operations  in  the 
same  neighborhood,  and,  in  1841,  he  entered  into  a  contract  with 
owners  of  land  in  the  townships  of  Tapton,  Brimington,  and  New- 
bold  for  the  working  of  the  coal  thereunder,  and  pits  were  opened  on 
the  Tapton  estate  on  an  extensive  scale.  About  the  same  time,  he 
erected  great  lime  works,  close  to  the  Ambergate  station  of  the  Midland 
Railway,  from  which,  when  in  full  operation,  he  was  able  to  turn  out 
upward  of  two  hundred  tons  a  day.  The  limestone  was  brought  on 
a  tram-way  from  the  village  of  Crich,  two  or  three  miles  distant,  the 
coal  being  supplied  from  Claycross  Colliery.  The  works  were  on  a 
scale  such  as  had  not  before  been  attempted,  and  proved  very  suc- 
cessful. 

Tapton  House  was  included  in  the  lease  of  one  of  the  collieries, 
and  was  conveniently  situated — the  engineer  could  proceed  north  or 
south  on  the  various  lines  then  under  construction.  He  took  up  his 
residence  there,  and  it  continued  his  home  until  the  close  of  his  life. 

Tapton  House  is  situated  amid  woods,  upon  a  commanding  emi- 
nence. Green  fields  dotted  with  fine  trees  slope  away  from  the 
house  in  all  directions.  Mr.  Stephenson  had  so  long  been  accus- 
tomed to  laborious  pursuits,  and  felt  himself  still  so  full  of  work, 
that  he  could  not  at  once  settle  down  into  the  habit  of  quietly  enjoy- 
ing the  fruits  of  his  industry. 

13 


194  GEORGE     STEPHENSON. 

Besides  directing  the  mining  operations  at  Claycross,  the  lime- 
kilns at  Ambergate,  and  the  construction  of  extensive  railways  still 
in  progress,  he  occasionally  paid  visits  to  Newcastle,  where  his  loco- 
motive manufactory  was  now  reaping  the  advantages  of  his  early 
foresight  in  an  abundant  measure  of  prosperity.  One  of  his  most 
interesting  visits  was  in  1838,  at  the  meeting  of  the  British  Associa- 
tion there,  when  he  acted  as  one  of  the  Vice-Presidents  in  the  section 
of  Mechanical  Science.  Extraordinary  changes  had  taken  place  in  his 
own  fortunes,  as  well  as  in  the  face  of  the  country,  since  he  had  first 
appeared  before  a  scientific  body  in  Newcastle — the  members  of  the 
Literary  and  Philosophical  Institute— to  submit  his  safety-lamp  for 
their  examination.  Twenty-three  years  had  passed  over  his  head,  full 
of  honest  work,  of  manful  struggle,  and  the  humble  "colliery  engine- 
wright,  of  the  name  of  Stephenson,"  had  achieved  an  almost  world- wide 
reputation.  His  fellow-townsmen,  therefore,  could  not  hesitate  to  do 
honor  to  his  presence.  He  took  the  opportunity  of  paying  a  visit  to 
Killingworth,  accompanied  by  distinguished  savans,  his  friends.  He 
pointed  them,  with  honest  pride,  to  the  cottage  in  which  he  lived  so 
many  years,  showing  what  parts  had  been  his  handiwork,  and  told 
them  the  story  of  the  sun-dial  over  the  door.  The  dial  had  been 
serenely  numbering  the  hours  through  the  busy  years  that  had 
elapsed  since  that  dwelling  had  been  his  home. 

From  a  very  early  period  in  his  history  he  had  taken  an  active  in- 
terest in  Mechanics'  Institutes.  While  residing  at  Newcastle,  in  1824, 
he  presided  at  a  public  meeting  held  in  that  town  for  the  purpose  of 
establishing  a  Mechanics'  Institute.  But,  as  George  Stephenson  was 
comparatively  unknown,  his  name  failed  to  secure  "  an  influential 
attendance."  The  local  papers  scarcely  noticed  the  proceedings, 
yet  the  Mechanics'  Institute  was  founded  and  struggled  into  existence. 
Years  passed,  and  it  was  felt  to  be  an  honor  to  secure  Mr.  Stephen- 
son's  presence.  Among  the  Mechanics'  Institutes  in  the  neighborhood 
of  Tapton,  were  those  of  Belper  and  Chesterfield,  and  at  their  soirees 
he  was  a  frequent  and  a  welcome  visitor,  and  loved  to  tell  his  audit- 
ors of  the  difficulties  which  had  early  beset  him  through  want  of 
knowledge,  and  of  the  means  by  which  he  had  overcome  them.  His 
grand  text  was — PERSEVERE. 

George  Stephenson  was  always  an  immense  favorite  with  his  audi- 
ences. His  personal  appearance  was  in  his  favor.  A  handsome, 
ruddy,  expressive  face,  lit  up  by  bright  dark  blue  eyes,  prepared  one 
for  his  earnest  words  when  he  stood  up,  and  the  cheers  had  subsided 
which  invariably  hailed  his  rising  to  speak.  He  was  not  glib,  but 
very  impressive.  And  who,  so  well  as  he,  could  guide  the  working- 
man  in  endeavors  after  higher  knowledge?  His  early  life  had  been 
all  struggle — encounter  with  difficulty — groping  in  the  dark  after 
greater  light,  but  always  earnestly  and  perseveringly.  His  words 
were,  therefore,  all  the  more  weighty,  since  he  spoke  from  the  fullness 
of  his  own  experience. 


SPEED     OF     RAILWAY      TRAINS.  195 

Nor  did  he  remain  an  inactive  spectator  of  improvements  in  rail- 
way working,  but  continued  to  contrive  improvements  in  the  loco- 
motive, and  to  mature  his  invention  of  the  carriage-brake.  When 
examined  before  the  Select  Committee  on  Railways,  in  1841,  his 
mind  seems  to  have  been  impressed  with  the  necessity  which  existed 
for  adopting  a  system  of  self-acting  brakes,  stating  that,  in  his  opin- 
ion, this  was  the  most  important  arrangement  that  could  be  provided 
for  increasing  the  safety  of  railway  traveling.  "I  believe,"  he  said, 
"  that  if  self-acting  brakes  were  put  upon  every  carriage,  scarcely  any 
accident  could  take  place." 

While  before  the  same  committee,  he  stated  his  views  with  refer- 
ence to  railway  speeds,  about  which  wild  ideas  were  afloat,  one  gen- 
tleman of  celebrity  having  publicly  expressed  the  opinion  that  a  speed 
of  a  hundred  miles  an  hour  was  practicable  in  railway  traveling !  Not 
many  years  had  passed  since  Mr.  Stephenson  had  been  pronounced 
insane  for  stating  his  conviction  that  twelve  miles  an  hour  could  be 
performed  by  the  locomotive ;  but,  now  that  he  had  established  the 
fact,  and  greatly  exceeded  that  speed,  he  was  thought  behind  the  age 
because  he  recommended  it  to  be  limited  to  forty  miles  an  hour.  He 
said:  "I  do  not  like  either  forty  or  fifty  miles  an  hour  upon  any 
line — I  think  it  an  unnecessary  speed;  and  if  there  is  danger  upon 
a  railway,  it  is  high  velocity  that  creates  it.  I  should  say  no  railway 
ought  to  exceed  forty  miles  an  hour  on  the  most  favorable  gradient ; 
but,  upon  a  curved  line,  the  speed  ought  not  to  exceed  twenty-four 
or  twenty-five  miles  an  hour."  He  had,  indeed,  constructed  for  the 
Great  Western  Railway  an  engine  capable  of  running  fifty  miles  an 
hour  with  a  load,  and  eighty  miles  without  one.  But  he  never  was 
in  favor  of  a  hurricane  speed  of  this  sort,  believing  it  could  only  be 
accomplished  at  an  unnecessary  increase  both  of  danger  and  expense. 

"It  is  true,"  he  observed  on  other  occasions,  "I  have  said  the 
locomotive  engine  might  be  made  to  travel  a  hundred  miles  an  hour, 
but  I  always  put  a  qualification  on  this,  namely,  as  to  what  speed 
would  best  suit  the  public.  The  public  may,  however,  be  unreasonble; 
and  fifty  or  sixty  miles  an  hour  is  an  unreasonable  speed.  Long  be- 
fore railway  traveling  became  general,  I  said  to  my  friends  that  there 
was  no  limit  to  the  speed  of  the  locomotive,  provided  the  works  could 
be  made  to  stand;  but  there  are  limits  to  the  strength  of  iron,  whether 
it  be  manufactured  into  rails  or  locomotives,  and  there  is  a  point  at 
which  both  rails  and  tires  must  break.  Every  increase  of  speed,  by 
increasing  the  strain  upon  the  road  and  the  rolling  stock,  brings  us 
nearer  to  that  point.  At  thirty  miles,  a  slighter  road  will  do,  and 
less  perfect  rolling  stock  may  be  run  upon  it  with  safety.  But  if  you 
increase  the  speed  by  say  ten  miles,  then  every  thing  must  be  greatly 
strengthened.  You  must  have  heavier  engines,  heavier  and  better- 
fastened  rails,  and  all  your  working  expenses  will  be  immensely 
increased.  I  think  I  know  enough  of  mechanics  to  know  where  to 
stop.  I  know  that  a  pound  will  weigh  a  pound,  and  that  more 


196  GEORGE     STEPHENSON. 

should  not  be  put  upon  an  iron  rail  than  it  will  bear.  If  you  could 
insure  perfect  iron,  perfect  rails,  and  perfect  locomotives,  I  grant  fifty 
miles  an  hour  or  more  might  be  run  with  safety  on  a  level  railway. 
But  then  you  must  not  forget  that  iron,  even  the  best,  will  'tire,'  and 
with  constant  use  will  become  more  and  more  liable  to  break  at  the 
weakest  point  —  perhaps  where  there  is  a  secret  flaw  that  the  eye 
can  not  detect.  Then  look  at  the  rubbishly  rails  now  manufactured 
on  the  contract  system — some  of  them  little  better  than  cast  metal : 
indeed,  I  have  seen  rails  break  merely  on  being  thrown  from  the 
truck  on  to  the  ground.  How  is  it  possible  for  such  rails  to  stand  a 
twenty  or  thirty  ton  engine  dashing  over  them  at  the  speed  of  fifty 
miles  an  hour?  No,  no,"  he  would  conclude,  "I  am  in  favor  of 
low  speeds  because  they  are  safe,  and  because  they  are  economical ; 
and  you  may  rely  upon  it  that,  beyond  a  certain  point,  with  every 
increase  of  speed  there  is  a  certain  increase  in  the  element  of  danger." 

While  the  railway  mania  was  at  its  height  in  England,  railways 
were  also  being  extended  abroad,  and  George  Stephenson  continued 
to  be  invited  to  give  the  directors  of  foreign  undertakings  the  benefit 
of  his  advice.  One  of  the  most  agreeable  of  his  excursions  with  that 
object  was  his  third  visit  to  Belgium,  in  1845.  His  special  purpose 
was  to  examine  the  proposed  line  of  the  Sambre  and  Meuse  Railway. 
Arrived  on  the  ground,  he  went  carefully  over  the  entire  length 
of  the  proposed  line,  and  was  delighted  with  the  novelty  of 
the  journey,  the  beauty  of  the  scenery,  and  the  industry  of  the 
population.  His  companions  were  entertained  by  his  ample  and 
varied  stores  of  practical  information  on  all  subjects,  and  his  con- 
versation was  full  of  reminiscences  of  his  youth,  on  which  he  always 
delighted  to  dwell  when  in  the  society  of  his  more  intimate  friends. 

The  engineers  of  Belgium  invited  him  to  a  magnificent  banquet  at 
Brussels.  Stephenson  was  greatly  pleased  with  the  entertainment. 
Not  the  least  interesting  incident  of  the  evening  was  his  observing, 
when  the  dinner  was  about  half  over,  the  model  of  a  locomotive  en- 
gine placed  upon  the  center-table,  under  a  triumphal  arch.  Turning 
suddenly  to  his  friend  Sopwith,  he  exclaimed,  "Do  you  see  the 
'Rocket?' '  It  was,  indeed,  the  model  of  that  celebrated  locomo- 
tive ;  and  the  engineer  prized  the  delicate  compliment  thus  paid  him 
perhaps  more  than  all  the  encomiums  of  the  evening. 

The  next  day  (April  5th)  King  Leopold  invited  him  to  a  private 
interview  at  the  palace.  Accompanied  by  Mr.  Sopwith,  he  proceeded 
to  Laaken,  and  was  cordially  received  by  his  majesty.  The  king 
immediately  entered  into  familiar  conversation  with  him,  discussing 
first  the  railway  project  which  had  been  the  object  of  his  visit  to  Bel- 
gium, and  then  the  structure  of  the  Belgian  coal-fields,  his  majesty 
expressing  his  sense  of  the  great  importance  of  economy  in  a  fuel  to 
the  comfort  and  well-being  of  society.  The  subject  was  always  a 
favorite  one  with  George  Stephenson,  and,  encouraged  by  the  king, 
he  proceeded  to  explain  to  him  the  geological  structure  of  Belgium. 


INTERVIEW    WITH    KING     OF    BELGIUM.  197 

In  describing  the  coal-beds,  he  used  his  hat  as  a  sort  of  model  to 
illustrate  his  meaning,  and  the  eyes  of  the  king  were  fixed  upon  it 
as  he  proceeded  with  his  description.  The  conversation  then  passed 
to  the  rise  and  progress  of  trade  and  manufactures,  Stephenson  point- 
ing out  how  closely  they  every-where  followed  the  coal,  being  mainly 
dependent  upon  it,  as  it  were,  for  their  very  existence.  The  king 
seemed  greatly  pleased,  and  expressed  himself  as  obliged  by  the  inter- 
esting information  which  the  engineer  had  communicated. 

George  Stephenson  paid  a  farther  visit  to  Belgium  in  the  course  of 
the  same  year,  on  the  business  of  the  West  Flanders  Railway,  and  he 
had  scarcely  returned  from  it  ere  he  was  requested  to  proceed  to  Spain 
for  the  purpose  of  examining  and  reporting  upon  a  scheme  then  on 
foot  for  constructing  "the  Royal  North  of  Spain  Railway." 

Urgent  business  required  Mr.  Stephenson's  presence  in  London  on 
the  last  day  of  November.  He  traveled,  therefore,  almost  continu- 
ously, day  and  night,  and  the  fatigue  consequent  on  the  journey, 
added  to  the  privations  endured  by  the  engineer  while  carrying  on 
the  survey  among  the  Spanish  mountains,  began  to  tell  seriously  on 
his  health.  By  the  time  he  reached  Paris  he  was  evidently  ill,  but 
he  nevertheless  determined  on  proceeding.  He  reached  Havre  in 
time  for  the  Southampton  boat,  but  when  on  board  pleurisy  developed 
itself,  and  it  was  necessary  to  bleed  him  freely.  After  a  few  weeks' 
rest  at  home,  however,  he  gradually  recovered,  though  his  health  re- 
mained severely  shaken. 

ROBERT  STEPHENSON'S  CAREER — THE  STEPHENSONS  AND  BRUNEL — EAST 

COAST  ROUTE   TO    SCOTLAND ROYAL   BORDER   BRIDGE,  BERWICK — 

HIGH-LEVEL  BRIDGE,  NEWCASTLE. 

The  career  of  George  Stephenson  was  drawing  to  a  close.  He  had 
for  some  time  been  gradually  retiring;  in  1840,  when  the  extensive 
main  lines  in  the  Midland  districts  had  been  finished  and  opened,  he 
publicly  expresed  his  intention  of  withdrawing.  Being  now  sixty,  and 
having  spent  the  greater  portion  of  his  life  in  very  hard  work,  he 
naturally  desired  rest.  There  was  less  necessity  for  continuing  "in 
harness,"  as  Robert  was  in  full  career  as  a  leading  engineer,  and  his 
father  had  pleasure  in  handing  over  to  him  nearly  all  the  railway  ap- 
pointments which  he  held. 

Robert  Stephenson  had  amply  repaid  his  father's  care.  The  sound 
education  of  which  he  had  laid  the  foundations  at  school,  improved 
by  his  subsequent  culture,  but  more  than  all  by  his  father's  ex- 
ample of  application,  industry,  and  thoroughness  in  all  that  he  un- 
dertook, told  powerfully  in  the  formation  of  his  character  not  less 
than  in  the  discipline  of  his  intellect.  His  father  had  familiarized 
him  with  the  laws  of  mechanics,  and  carefully  trained  and  stimulated 
his  inventive  faculties.  "I  am  fully  conscious  in  my  own  mind," 
said  the  son,  at  a  meeting  of  the  Mechanical  Engineers  at  Newcastle, 


198  GEORGE     STEPHENSON. 

in  1858,  "how  greatly  my  civil  engineering  has  been  regulated  and 
influenced  by  the  mechanical  knowledge  which  I  derived  directly 
from  my  father;  and  the  more  my  experience  has  advanced,  the  more 
convinced  I  have  become  that  it  is  necessary  to  educate  an  engineer 
in  the  workshop.  That  is,  emphatically,  the  education  which  will 
render  the  engineer  most  intelligent,  most  useful,  and  the  fullest  of 
resources  in  time  of  difficulty." 

Robert  Stephenson  was  but  twenty-six  years  old  when  the  perform- 
ances of  the  "Rocket"  established  the  practicability  of  steam  loco- 
motion on  railways.  He  was  shortly  after  appointed  engineer 
of  the  Leicester  and  Swannington  Railway ;  after  which,  at  his  fa- 
ther's request,  he  was  made  joint  engineer  with  himself  in  laying  out 
the  London  and  Birmingham  Railway,  and  the  execution  of  that  line 
was  afterward  intrusted  to  him  as  sole  engineer.  The  stability  and 
excellence  of  that  railway,  the  difficulties  which  had  been  successfully 
overcome  in  its  construction,  and  the  judgment  displayed  by  Robert 
Stephenson  throughout  the  whole  undertaking,  established  his  reputa- 
tion as  an  engineer,  and  his  father  could  now  look  with  confidence 
and  pride  upon  his  son's  achievements.  From  that  time  forward,  fa- 
ther and  son  worked  together  cordially,  each  jealous  of  the  other's 
honor;  and,  on  the  father's  retirement,  it  was  generally  recognized 
that,  in  the  sphere  of  railways,  Robert  Stephenson  was  the  foremost 
man,  the  safest  guide,  and  the  most  active  worker. 

We  have  thus  noted  some  leading  points  in  the  life  of  the  son  up 
to  the  age  of  forty,  and  here  direct  the  reader's  attention  to  "The  Life 
of  Robert  Stephenson,  F.R.S.,  late  President  of  the  Institution  of 
Civil  Engineers,  by  J.  C.  Jeaffreson,  Barrister-at-Law,  2  Vols.,  8vo., 
London,  1864,"  and  briefly  proceed  to  sketch  the  later  days,  more 
especially  of  the  father,  who  fought  his  own  way  from  obscurity  to 
eminence  as  the  son  did  net. 

George  Stephenson  could  not  brook  the  idea  of  seeing  the  loco- 
motive, for  which  he  had  fought  so  many  stout  battles,  pushed  to  one 
side,  and  that  in  the  very  county  in  which  its  great  powers  had  been  first 
developed,  for  Brunei's  atmospheric  railway,  which  finally  proved 
wholly  valueless  for  practical  purposes.  Shareholders  in  the  projected 
Atmospheric  Company  were  happily  prevented  by  his  opposition  from 
investing  their  capital  in  what  would  unquestionably  have  proved  a 
gigantic  blunder,  for,  in  less  than  three  years  later,  the  whole  of  the 
atmospheric  tubes  which  had  been  laid  down  on  other  lines  were 
pulled  up,  and  the  materials  sold,  including  Mr.  Brunei's  immense 
tube  on  the  South  Devon  Railway,  to  make  way  for  the  working  of 
the  locomotive  engine.  George  Stephenson's  first  verdict  of  "It 
won't  do"  was  thus  conclusively  confirmed. 

One  day  George  was  standing  with  his  back  to  the  fire,  when  Lord 
Howick  called  to  see  Robert.  Oh  !  thought  George,  he  has  come  to 
try  and  talk  Robert  over  about  that  atmospheric  gimcrack;  but  I'll 
tackle  his  lordship.  "Come  in,  my  lord,"  said  he;  "Robert's  busy; 


"ATMOSPHERIC     SYSTEM"     A     FAILURE.  199 

but  I'll  answer  your  purpose  quite  as  well ;  sit  down  here,  if  you 
please."  George  began,  "  Now,  my  lord,  I  know  very  well  what  you 
have  come  about;  it's  that  atmospheric  line  in  the  North;  I  will 
show  you,  in  less  than  five  minutes,  that  it  can  never  answer."  "  If 
Mr.  Robert  Stephenson  is  not  at  liberty,  I  can  call  again,"  said  his 
lordship.  "He's  certainly  occupied  on  important  business  just  at 
present,"  was  George's  answer,  "but  I  can  tell  you  far  better  than 
he  can  what  nonsense  the  atmospheric  system  is :  Robert's  good-na- 
tured, you  see,  and  if  your  lordship  were  to  get  alongside  of  him,  you 
might  talk  him  over;  so  you  have  been  quite  lucky  in  meeting  with 
me.  Now  just  look  at  the  question  of  expense  ;"  and  then  he  pro- 
ceeded in  his  strong  Doric  to  explain  his  views  in  detail,  until  Lord 
Howick  could  stand  it  no  longer,  and  he  rose  and  walked  toward 
the  door.  George  followed  him  down  stairs  to  finish  his  demolition 
of  the  atmospheric  system,  and  his  parting  words  were,  "You  may 
take  my  word  for  it,  my  lord,  it  will  never  answer."  George  after- 
ward told  his  son  with  glee  of  "the  settler"  he  had  given  Lord 
Howick. 

So  closely  were  the  Stephensons  identified  with  the  Newcastle  and 
Berwick  Railway,  and  so  great  was  the  personal  interest  which  they 
were  both  known  to  take  in  its  success,  that,  on  the  news  of  the  pass- 
ing of  the  bill  reaching  Newcastle,  a  sort  of  general  holiday  took 
place,  and  the  workmen  belonging  to  the  Stephenson  Locomotive 
Factory,  upward  of  eight  hundred  in  number,  walked  in  procession 
through  the  principal  streets  of  the  town,  accompanied  by  music  and 
banners. 

CLOSING  YEARS    OF   GEORGE    STEPHENSON's    LIFE — ILLNESS   AND   DEATH 

CHARACTER. 

George  Stephenson  was  present  on  the  occasion  of  the  floating  and 
raising  of  the  first  Conway  tube,  and  there  witnessed  a  proof  of  the 
soundness  of  Robert's  judgment  as  to  the  efficiency  and  strength  of 
the  structure,  of  which  he  had  at  first  expressed  some  doubt ;  but  be- 
fore the  like  test  could  be  applied  at  the  Britannia  Bridge,  George 
Stephenson's  mortal  anxieties  were  at  an  end,  for  he  had  then  ceased 
from  all  his  labors.  Toward  the  close  of  his  life,  George  Stephenson 
devoted  himself  chiefly  to  his  extensive  collieries  and  lime  works, 
taking  a  local  interest  only  in  such  projected  railways  as  were  calcu- 
lated to  open  up  new  markets  for  their  products. 

At  home  he  lived  the  life  of  a  country  gentleman,  enjoying  his 
garden  and  grounds,  and  indulging  his  love  of  nature,  which,  through 
all  his  busy  life,  had  never  left  him.  It  was  not  until  the  year  1845 
that  he  took  an  active  interest  in  horticultural  pursuits.  Then  he  be- 
gan to  build  new  melon-houses,  pineries,  and  vineries,  of  great  extent; 
and  he  now  seemed  as  eager  to  excel  all  other  growers  of  exotic 
plants  in  his  neighborhood,  as  he  had  been  some  thirty  years  before 


200  GEORGE     STEPHENSON. 

to  surpass  the  villagers  of  Killingworth  in  the  production  of  cabbages 
and  cauliflowers.  He  had  a  pine-house  built  68  feet  in  length,  and  a 
vinery  140  feet.  Workmen  were  constantly  employed  in  enlarging 
them,  until  at  length  he  had  no  fewer  than  ten  glass  forcing-houses. 
He  did  not  take  so  much  pleasure  in  flowers  as  in  fruits.  At  one  of 
the  county  agricultural  meetings,  he  said  that  he  intended  yet  to  grow 
pine-apples  at  Tapton  as  big  as  pumpkins.  The  only  man  to  whom 
he  would  "knock  under  "  was  his  friend  Paxton,  the  gardener  to  the 
Duke  of  Devonshire ;  but  he  was  so  old  in  the  service,  and  so  skillful, 
that  he  could  scarcely  hope  to  beat  him.  Yet  his  "Queen"  pines 
did  take  the  first  prize  at  a  competition  with  the  duke,  though 
this  was  not  until  shortly  after  his  death,  when  the  plants  had  become 
fully  grown.  Stephenson's  grapes  also  took  the  first  prize  at  Rother- 
ham,  at  a  competition  open  to  all  England.  He  was  extremely  suc- 
cessful in  producing  melons,  having  invented  a  method  of  suspending 
them  in  baskets  of  wire  gauze,  which,  by  relieving  the  stalk  from 
tension,  allowed  nutrition  to  proceed  more  freely,  and  better  enabled 
the  fruit  to  grow  and  ripen. 

Farming  operations  were  carried  on  by  him  with  success.  He  ex- 
perimented on  manure,  and  fed  cattle  after  methods  of  his  own.  He 
was  very  particular  as  to  breed  and  build  in  stock-breeding.  "  You 
see,  sir,"  he  said  to  one  gentleman,  "I  like  to  see  the  coo's  back  at 
a  gradient  something  like  this"  (drawing  an  imaginary  line  with  his 
hand),  "and  then  the  ribs  or  girders  will  carry  more  flesh  than  if 
they  were  so — or  so."  When  he  attended  the  county  agricultural 
meetings,  which  he  frequently  did,  he  was  accustomed  to  take  part  in 
the  discussions,  and  he  brought  the  same  vigorous  practical  mind  to 
bear  upon  questions  of  tillage,  drainage,  and  farm  economy  which  he 
had  before  been  accustomed  to  exercise  on  mechanical  and  engineer- 
ing matters. 

All  his  early  affection  for  birds  and  animals  revived.  He  had 
favorite  dogs  and  cows  and  horses ;  and  again  he  began  to  keep 
rabbits,  and  to  pride  himself  on  the  beauty  of  his  breed.  There  was 
not  a  bird's  nest  in  the  grounds  that  he  did  not  know  of;  and  from 
day  to  day  he  went  round  watching  the  progress  which  the  birds  made 
with  their  building,  carefully  guarding  them  from  harm.  His  minute 
knowledge  of  the  habits  of  British  birds  was  the  result  of  a  long,  lov- 
ing, and  close  observation  of  nature. 

At  Tapton  he  remembered  the  failure  of  his  early  experiment  in 
hatching  birds'  eggs  by  heat,  and  he  now  performed  it  successfully, 
being  able  to  secure  a  proper  apparatus  for  maintaining  a  uniform 
temperature.  He  was  also  curious  about  the  breeding  and  fattening 
of  fowls  ;  and  when  his  friend,  Edward  Pease,  of  Darlington,  visited 
him  at  Tapton,  he  explained  a  method  which  he  had  invented  of  fat- 
tening chickens  in  half  the  usual  time.  The  chickens  were  confined 
in  boxes,  which  were  so  made  as  to  exclude  the  light.  Dividing  the 
day  into  two  or  three  periods,  the  birds  were  shut  up  at  the  end  of 


AN      OBSERVER,      NOT     A     READER.  2OI 

each,  after  a  heavy  feed,  and  went  to  sleep.  The  plan  proved  very 
successful,  and  Mr.  Stephenson  jocularly  said  that  if  he  were  to  devote 
himself  to  chickens  he  could  soon  make  a  little  fortune. 

Mrs.  Stephenson  tried  to  keep  bees,  but  found  they  would  not 
thrive  at  Tapton.  Many  hives  perished,  and  there  was  no  case  of 
success.  The  cause  of  failure  was  long  a  mystery  to  the  engineer; 
but  one  day  his  acute  powers  of  observation  enabled  him  to  unravel 
it.  At  the  foot  of  the  hill  on  which  Tapton  House  stands,  he  saw 
some  bees  trying  to  rise  up  from  among  the  grass,  laden  with  honey 
and  wax.  They  were  already  exhausted,  as  if  with  long  flying ;  and 
then  it  occurred  to  him  that  the  height  at  which  the  house  stood 
above  the  bees'  feeding-ground  rendered  it  difficult  for  them  to  reach 
their  hives  when  heavy  laden,  and  hence  they  sank  exhausted.  He 
afterward  incidentally  mentioned  the  circumstance  to  Mr.  Jesse,  the 
naturalist,  who  concurred  in  his  view  as  to  the  cause  of  failure,  and 
was  much  struck  by  the  keen  observation  which  had  led  to  its  solution. 

George  Stephenson  had  none  of  the  habits  of  the  student.  He  read 
very  little  ;  for  reading  is  a  habit  which  is  generally  acquired  in  youth, 
and  his  youth  and  manhood  had  been,  for  the  most  part,  spent  in 
hard  work.  Books  weariedjhim  and  sent  him  to  sleep.  Novels  ex- 
cited his  feelings  too  much,  and  he  avoided  them,  though  he  would 
occasionally  read  through  a  philosophical  work  on  a  subject  in  which 
he  felt  particularly  interested.  He  wrote  very  few  letters  with  his 
own  hand.  Nearly  all  his  letters  were  dictated,  and  he  avoided  even 
dictation  when  he  could.  His  greatest  pleasure  was  in  conversation, 
from  which  he  gathered  most  of  his  imparted  information. 

It  was  his  practice,  when  about  to  set  out  on  a  journey  by  railway, 
to  walk  along  the  train  before  it  started,  and  look  into  the  carriages 
to  see  if  he  could  find  "a  conversible  face."  On  one  of  such  occa- 
sions, at  the  Euston  Station,  he  discovered  in  a  carriage  a  very  hand- 
some, manly,  and  intelligent  face,  which  he  afterward  found  was  that 
of  the  late  Lord  Denman.  He  was  on  his  way  down  to  his  seat  at 
Stony  Middleton,  in  Derbyshire.  Stephenson  entered  the  carriage, 
and  the  two  were  shortly  engaged  in  interesting  conversation.  It 
turned  upon  chronometry  and  horology,  and  the  engineer  amazed  his 
lordship  by  the  extent  of  his  knowledge  on  the  subject,  in  which  he 
displayed  as  much  minute  information,  even  down  to  the  latest  im- 
provements in  watch-making,  as  if  he  had  been  bred  a  watchmaker 
and  lived  by  the  trade.  Lord  Denman  was  curious  to  know  how  a 
man,  whose  time  must  have  been  mainly  engrossed  by  engineering, 
had  gathered  so  much  knowledge  on  a  subject  quite  out  of  his  own 
line,  and  he  asked  the  question.  "  I  learned  clock-making  and  watch- 
making,"was  the  answer, "while  a  working  man  at  Killingworth,  when  I 
made  a  little  money  in  my  spare  hours  by  cleaning  the  pitmen's  clocks 
and  watches;  and  since  then  I  have  kept  up  my  information  on  the 
subject."  This  led  to  farther  questions;  and  then  he  proceeded  to 


202  GEORGE     STEPHENSON. 

i  tell  ,Lord  Denman  the  interesting  story  of  his  life,  which  held  him 
entranced  during  the  remainder  of  the  journey. 

Many  of  his  friends  readily  accepted  invitations  to  Tapton  House 
to  enjoy  his  hospitality,  which  never  failed.  With  them  he  would 
"fight  his  battles  o'er  again,"  reverting  often  to  his  battle  for  the  loco- 
motive ;  and  he  was  never  tired  of  telling,  nor  were  his  auditors  of 
listening  to,  the  lively  anecdotes  with  which  he  was  accustomed  to 
illustrate  the  struggles  of  his  early  career.  While  walking  in  the 
woods  or  through  the  grounds,  he  would  arrest  his  friends'  attention 
by  allusion  to  some  simple  object — such  as  a  leaf,  a  blade  of  grass,  a 
bit  of  bark,  a  nest  of  birds,  or  an  ant  carrying  its  eggs  across  the  path 
— and  descant  in  glowing  terms  on  the  creative  power  of  the  Divine 
Mechanician,  whose  contrivances  were  so  exhaustless  and  so  wonderful. 
This  was  a  theme  upon  which  he  was  often  accustomed  to  dwell  in 
reverential  admiration  when  in  the  society  of  his  more  intimate 
friends. 

One  night,  when  walking  under  the  stars,  and  gazing  up  into  the 
field  of  suns,  each  the  probable  center  of  a  system,  forming  the  Milky 
Way,  a  friend  observed,  "  What  an  insignificant  creature  is  man  in 
sight  of  so  immense  a  creation  as  thisl*'  "Yes!"  was  his  reply: 
"  but  how  wonderful  a  creature  also  is  man,  to  be  able  to  think  and 
reason,  and  even  in  some  measure  to  comprehend  works  so  infinite!" 

A  microscope  which  he  had  brought  down  to  Tapton  was  a  source 
of  immense  eftjoyment,  and  he  was  never  tired  of  contemplating  the 
minute  wonders  which  it  revealed.  One  evening,  when  some  friends 
were  visiting  him,  he  induced  each  of  them  to  puncture  his  skin  so 
as  to  draw  blood,  in  order  that  he  might  examine  the  globules  through 
the  microscope.  One  of  the  gentlemen  present  was  a  teetotaler,  and 
Stephenson  pronounced  his  blood  to  be  the  most  lively  of  the  whole. 
He  had  a  theory  of  his  own  about  the  movement  of  the  globules  in 
the  blood,  which  has  since  become  familiar.  It  was,  that  they  were 
respectively  charged  with  electricity,  positive  at  one  end  and  negative 
at  the  other,  and  that  they  thus  attracted  and  repelled  each  other,  caus- 
ing a  circulation.  No  sooner  did  he  observe  any  thing  new  than  he 
immediately  set  about  devising  a  reason  for  it.  His  training  in  mechan- 
ics, his  practical  familiarity  with  matter  in  all  its  forms,  and  the 
strong  bent  of  his  mind,  led  him  first  of  all  to  seek  for  a  mechanical 
explanation  ;  and  yet  he  was  ready  to  admit  that  there  was  a  some- 
thing in  the  principle  of  life — so  mysterious  and  inexplicable — which 
baffled  mechanics,  and  seemed  to  dominate  over  and  control  them. 
He  did  not  care  much,  either,  for  abstruse  mechanics,  but  only  for 
the  experimental  and  practical,  as  is  usually  the  case  with  those  whose 
knowledge  has  been  self-acquired. 

Even  at  his  advanced  age  the  spirit  of  frolic  had  not  left  him. 
When  proceeding  from  Chesterfield  Station  to  Tapton  House  with  his 
friends,  he  would  almost  invariably  challenge  them  to  a  race  up  the 
steep  path,  partly  formed  of  stone  steps,  along  the  hill-side.  And  he 


HIS     TEMPERATE     LIVING.  203 

would  struggle,  as  of  old,  to  keep  the  front  place,  though  by  this 
time  his  "wind"  greatly  failed  him.  He  would  occasionally  invite 
an  old  friend  to  take  a  wrestle  with  him  on  the  lawn,  to  keep  up  his 
skill,  and  perhaps  to  try  some  new  "knack"  of  throwing.  In  the 
evening  he  would  sometimes  indulge  his  visitors  by  reciting  the  old 
"  Damon  and  Phyllis,"  or  singing  his  favorite  song  of  "John  Ander- 
son my  Joe." 

But  his  greatest  enjoyment  on  such  occasion  was  "  a  crowdy." 
"Let's  have  a  crowdie  night,"  he  would  say;  and  forthwith  a  kettle 
of  boiling  water  was  ordered  in,  with  a  basin  of  oatmeal.  Taking  a 
large  bowl,  containing  a  sufficiency  of  hot  water,  and  placing  it  be- 
tween his  knees,  he  poured  in  oatmeal  with  one  hand  and  stirred  the 
mixture  vigorously  with  the  other.  When  enough  meal  had  been 
added,  and  the  stirring  was  completed,  the  crowdie  was  made.  It 
was  then  supped  with  new  milk,  and  Mr.  Stephenson  generally  pro- 
nounced it  "capital !"  It  was  the  diet  to  which  he  had  been  accus- 
tomed when  a  working-man,  and  all  the  dainties  with  which  he  had 
become  familiar  in  recent  years  had  not  spoiled  his  simple  tastes.  To 
enjoy  crowdie  at  his  years,  besides,  indicated  that  he  still  possessed 
that  quality  on  which  no  doubt  much  of  his  practical  success  in  life 
depended — a  strong  and  healthy  digestion. 

He  would  also  frequently  invite  to  his  house  the  humbler  compan- 
ions of  his  early  life,  and  take  pleasure  in  talking  over  old  times  with 
them.  He  never  assumed  any  of  the  bearings  of  the  great  man  on 
such  occasions,  but  treated  his  visitors  with  the  same  friendliness  and 
respect  as  if  they  had  been  his  equals,  sending  them  away  pleased 
with  themselves  and  delighted  with  him.  At  other  times,  needy  men 
who  had  known  him  in  their  youth  would  knock  at  his  door,  and  they 
were  never  refused  access.  But  if  he  had  heard  of  any  misconduct 
on  their  part,  he  would  rate  them  soundly.  One  who  knew  him  in- 
timately in  private  life  has  seen  him  exhorting  such  backsliders,  and 
denouncing  their  misconduct  and  imprudence,  with  the  tears  stream- 
ing down  his  cheeks.  And  he  would  generally  conclude  by  opening 
his  purse,  and  giving  them  the  help  which  they  needed  "  to  make  a 
fresh  start  in  the  world." 

His  life  at  Tapton  during  his  later  years  was  occasionally  diversified 
by  a  visit  to  London.  His  engineering  business  having  become  lim- 
ited, he  generally  went  there  for  the  purpose  of  visiting  friends,  or 
"to  see  what  there  was  fresh  going  on."  He  found  a  new  race  of 
engineers  springing  up  on  all  sides — men  who  knew  him  not;  and 
his  London  journeys  gradually  ceased  to  yield  him  pleasure.  At 
other  times  he  visited  Newcastle,  which  always  gave  him  great  pleas- 
ure. He  would,  on  such  occasions,  go  out  to  Killingworth  and  seek 
up  old  friends,  and  if  the  people  whom  he  knew  were  too  retiring, 
and  shrunk  into  their  cottages,  he  went  and  sought  them  there. 
Striking  the  floor  with  his  stick,  and  holding  his  noble  person  up- 
right, he  would  say,  in  his  own  kind  way,  "  Well,  and  how's  all 


204  GEORGE     STEPHENSON. 

here  to-day?"  To  the  last  he  had  always  a  warm  heart  for  Newcastle 
and  its  neighborhood. 

Sir  Robert  Peel,  on  more  than  one  occasion,  invited  George  Ste- 
phenson  to  his  mansion  at  Dray  ton,  where  he  was  accustomed  to 
assemble  round  him  men  of  the  highest  distinction  in  art,  science, 
and  legislation,  during  the  intervals  of  his  Parliamentary  life.  The 
first  invitations  were  respectfully  declined ;  but  Sir  Robert  again 
pressing  him  to  come  down  to  Tamworth,  where  he  would  meet 
Buckland,  Follett,  and  others  well  known  to  both,  he  at  last  con- 
sented. 

Stephenson's  strong  powers  of  observation,  together  with  his  native 
humor  and  shrewdness,  imparted  to  his  conversation  at  all  times 
much  vigor  and  originality.  Though  mainly  an  engineer,  he  was  also 
a  profound  thinker  on  many  scientific  questions,  and  there  was 
scarcely  a  subject  of  speculation,  or  a  department  of  recondite  science, 
on  which  he  had  not  employed  his  faculties  in  such  a  way  as  to  have 
formed  large  and  original  views. 

In  1847,  the  year  before  his  death,  George  Stephenson  was  again 
invited  to  join  a  distinguished  party  at  Drayton  Manor,  and  to  assist 
in  the  ceremony  of  formally  opening  the  Trent  Valley  Railway, 
which  had  been  designed  and  laid  out  by  himself  many  years  before. 
The  first  sod  of  the  railway  had  been  cut  by  the  prime  minister  in 
November,  1845,  an<^  tne  formal  opening  took  place  on  the  26th  of 
June,  1847,  tne  une  having  thus  been  constructed  in  less  than  two 
years. 

What  a  change  had  come  over  the  spirit  of  the  landed  gentry 
since  the  time  when  George  Stephenson  had  first  projected  a  railway 
through  that  district !  Then  they  were  up  in  arms  against  him,  char- 
acterizing him  as  the  devastator  and  spoiler  of  their  estates,  whereas 
now  he  was  hailed  as  one  of  the  greatest  benefactors  of  the  age. 
Sir  Robert  Peel,  the  chief  political  personage  in  England,  welcomed 
him  as  a  guest  and  friend,  and  spoke  of  him  as  the  chief  among 
practical  philosophers.  A  dozen  members  of  Parliament,  seven  bar- 
onets, with  all  the  landed  magnates  of  the  district,  assembled  to  cel- 
ebrate the  opening  of  the  railway.  The  clergy  were  there  to  bless 
the  enterprise,  and  to  bid  all  hail  to  railway  progress,  as  "enabling 
them  to  carry  on  with  greater  facility  those  operations  in  connection 
with  religion  which  were  calculated  to  be  so  beneficial  to  the  coun- 
try." The  army,  speaking  through  the  mouth  of  General  A' Court, 
acknowledged  the  vast  importance  of  railways,  as  tending  to  improve 
the  military  defenses  of  the  country.  And  representatives  from  eight 
corporations  were  there  to  acknowledge  the  great  benefits  which  rail- 
ways had  conferred  upon  the  merchants,  tradesmen,  and  working 
classes  of  their  respective  towns  and  cities. 

In  the  spring  of  1848,  George  Stephenson  was  invited  to  Whittington 
House,  near  Chesterfield,  the  residence  of  his  friend  and  former 
pupil,  Mr.  Swanwick,  to  meet  the  distinguished  American,  Emerson. 


LAST    DAYS     AND     DECEASE.    '  205 

On  being  introduced  to  each  other,  they  did  not  immediately  engage 
in  conversation ;  but  presently  Stephenson  jumped  up,  took  Emerson 
by  the  collar,  and,  giving  him  one  of  his  friendly  shakes,  asked  how 
it  was  that  in  England  we  could  always  tell  an  American.  This  led 
to  an  interesting  conversation,  in  the  course  of  which  Emerson  said 
that  he  had  every-where  been  struck  by  the  haleness  and  come- 
liness of  the  English  men  and  women,  from  which  they  diverged  into 
a  discussion  of  the  influences  which  air,  climate,  moisture,  soil,  and 
other  conditions  exercised  on  the  physical  and  moral  development 
of  a  people.  The  conversation  was  next  directed  to  the  subject  of 
electricity,  on  which  Stephenson  launched  out  enthusiastically,  ex- 
plaining his  views  by  several  simple  and  some  striking  illustrations. 
From  thence  it  gradually  turned  to  the  events  of  his  own  life,  which 
he  related  in  so  graphic  a  manner  as  completely  to  rivet  the  attention 
of  the  American.  Aftenvard  Emerson  said  "that  it  was  worth  cross- 
ing the  Atlantic,  were  it  only  to  have  seen  Stephenson — he  had  such 
force  of  character  and  vigor  of  intellect." 

The  rest  of  George  Stephenson's  days  were  spent  quietly  at  Tap- 
ton,  among  his  dogs,  his  rabbits,  and  his  birds.  When  not  engaged 
about  the  works  connected  with  his  collieries,  he  was  occupied  in 
horticulture  and  farming.  He  continued  proud  of  his  flowers,  his 
fruits,  and  his  crops,  while  the  old  spirit  of  competition  was  still 
strong  within  him.  Although  he  had  for  some  time  been  in  delicate 
health,  and  his  hand  shook  from  nervous  debility,  he  appeared  to 
possess  a  sound  constitution.  Emerson  had  observed  of  him  that  he 
had  the  lives  of  many  men  in  him.  But,  perhaps,  the  American 
spoke  figuratively,  in  reference  to  his  vast  stores  of  experience.  It 
appeared  that  he  had  never  completely  recovered  from  the  attack  of 
pleurisy  which  seized  him  during  his  return  from  Spain.  As  late, 
however,  as  the  26th  of  July,  1848,  he  felt  himself  sufficiently  well 
to  be  able  to  attend  a  meeting  of  the  Institute  of  Mechanical  Engi- 
neers at  Birmingham,  and  to  read  to  the  members  his  paper  "  On  the 
Fallacies  of  the  Rotatory  Engine." 

It  was  his  last  public  appearance.  Shortly  after  his  return  to  Tap- 
ton,  he  had  an  attack  of  intermittent  fever,  from  which  he  seemed  to 
be  recovering,  when  a  sudden  effusion  of  blood  from  the  lungs  car- 
ried him  off,  on  the  i2th  of  August,  1848,  in  the  sixty-seventh  year 
of  his  age.  When  all  was  over,  Robert  wrote  to  Edmund  Pease : 
"  With  deep  pain  I  inform  you,  as  one  of  his  oldest  friends,  of  the 
death  of  my  dear  father  this  morning  at  twelve  o'clock,  after  about 
ten  days'  illness  from  severe  fever."  Mr.  Starbuck,  who  was  also 
present,  wrote:  "The  favorable  symptoms  of  yesterday  morning 
were  toward  evening  followed  by  a  serious  change  for  the  worse. 
This  continued  during  the  night,  and  early  this  morning  it  became 
evident  that  he  was  sinking.  At  a  few  minutes  before  twelve  to-day 
he  breathed  his  last.  All  that  the  most  devoted  and  unremitting  care 


206  GEORGE     STEPHENSON. 

of  Mrs.  Stephenson*  and  the  skill  of  medicine  could  accomplish  has 
been  done,  but  in  vain." 

George  Stephenson's  remains  were  followed  to  the  grave  by  a  large 
body  of  his  work-people,  by  whom  he  was  greatly  admired  and  be- 
loved. They  remembered  him  as  a  kind  master,  who  was  ever  ready 
actively  to  promote  all  measures  for  their  moral,  physical,  and  men- 
tal improvement.  The  inhabitants  of  Chesterfield  evinced  their 
respect  for  the  deceased  by  suspending  business,  closing  their  shops, 
and  joining  in  the  funeral  procession,  which  was  headed  by  the  cor- 
poration of  the  town.  Many  of  the  surrounding  gentry  also  attended. 
The  body  was  interred  in  Trinity  Church,  Chesterfield,  where  a  simple 
tablet  marks  the  great  engineer's  last  resting-place. 

The  statue  of  George  Stephenson,  which  the  Liverpool  and  Man- 
chester and  Grand  Junction  Companies  had  commissioned,  was  on 
its  way  to  England  when  his  death  occurred  ;  and  it  served  for  a 
monument,  though  his  best  monument  will  always  be  his  works.  The 
statue  referred  to  was  placed  in  St.  George's  Hall,  Liverpool.  A  full- 
length  statue  of  him,  by  Bailey,  was  also  erected,  a  few  years  later, 
in  the  noble  vestibule  of  the  London  and  North-western  Station,  in 
Euston  Square.  A  subscription  for  the  purpose  was  set  on  foot  by  the 
Society  of  Mechanical  Engineers,  of  which  he  had  been  the  founder 
and  president.  A  few  advertisements  were  inserted  in  the  newspapers, 
inviting  subscriptions ;  and  it  is  a  notable  fact  that  the  voluntary 
offerings  included  an  average  of  two  shillings  each  from  3,150  work- 
ing men,  who  embraced  this  opportunity  of  doing  honor  to  their 
distinguished  fellow-workman. 

But  the  finest  and  most  appropriate  statue  to  the  memory  of  George 
Stephenson  is  that  which  was  erected  in  1862,  after  the  design  of 
John  Lough,  at  Newcastle-upon-Tyne.  It  is  in  the  immediate  neigh- 
borhood of  the  Literary  and  Philosophical  Institute,  to  which  both 
George  and  his  son  Robert  were  so  much  indebted  in  their  early 
years ;  close  to  the  great  Stephenson  locomotive  foundry,  established 
by  the  shrewdness  of  the  father ;  and  in  the  vicinity  of  the  High- 
Level  Bridge,  one  of  the  grandest  products  of  the  genius  of  the  son. 
The  head  of  Stephenson,  as  expressed  in  this  noble  work,  is  massive, 
characteristic,  and  faithful ;  and  the  attitude  of  the  figure  is  simple, 
yet  manly  and  energetic.  It  stands  on  a  pedestal,  at  the  respective 
corners  of  which  are  sculptured  the  recumbent  figures  of  a  pitman,  a 
mechanic,  an  engine-driver,  and  a  plate-layer.  The  statue  appro- 
priately stands  in  a  very  thoroughfare  of  working-men,  thousands  of 
whom  see  it  daily  as  they  pass  to  and  from  their  work ;  and  we  can 
imagine  them,  as  they  look  up  to  Stephenson's  manly  figure,  applying 

*The  second  Mrs.  Stephenson  having  died  in  1845,  George  married  a  third 
time,  in  1848,  about  six  months  before  his  death.  The  third  Mrs.  Stephenson 
was  an  intelligent  and  respectable  lady,  who  had  for  some  years  officiated  as 
his  housekeeper. 


WEALTH      LEFT      HIS      SON.  207 

to  it  the  words  addressed  by  Robert  Nicoll  to  Robert  Burns,  with 
perhaps  still  greater  appropriateness  : 

"Before  the  proudest  of  the  earth 

We  stand,  with  an  uplifted  brow ; 
Like  us,  thou  wast  a  toiling  man — 
And  we  are  noble  now  !" 

George  Stephenson  had  a  shrewd,  kind,  honest,  manly  face.  His  fair, 
clear  countenance  was  ruddy,  and  seemingly  glowed  with  health. 
The  forehead  was  large  and  high,  projecting  over  the  eyes,  and  there 
was  that  massive  breadth  across  the  lower  part,  which  is  usually  ob- 
served in  men  of  eminent  constructive  skill.  The  mouth  was  firmly 
marked,  and  shrewdness  and  humor  lurked  there  as  well  as  in  the 
keen  gray  eye.  His  frame  was  compact,  well  knit,  and  rather  spare. 
His  hair  became  gray  at  an  early  age,  and  toward  the  close  of  his 
life  it  was  of  a  pure  silky  whiteness.  He  dressed  neatly  in  black, 
wearing  a  white  neckcloth ;  and  his  face,  his  person,  and  his  deport- 
ment at  once  arrested  attention. 

ROBERT  STEPHENSON'S  VICTORIA  BRIDGE,  LOWER  CANADA — RAILROAD 
STATISTICS  OF  CANADA,  THE  UNITED  STATES,  AND  OTHER  COUNTRIES 
THE  DISTINGUISHED  HONOR  CONFERRED  UPON  ROBERT  STEPHEN- 
SON — HIS  ILLNESS  AND  DEATH. 

George  Stephenson  bequeathed  to  his  son  his  valuable  collieries, 
his  share  in  the  engine  manufactory  at  Newcastle,  and  his  large  ac- 
cumulation of  savings,  which,  together  with  the  fortune  he  had  him- 
self amassed  by  railway  work,  gave  Robert  the  position  of  an 
engineer  millionaire — the  first  of  his  order.  He  continued,  however, 
to  live  in  a  quiet  style ;  and  although  he  bought  occasional  pictures 
and  statues,  and  indulged  in  the  luxury  of  a  yacht,  he  did  not  live 
up  to  his  income,  which  went  on  accumulating  until  his  death. 

Although  Robert  Stephenson,  in  conformity  with  this  expressed  in- 
tention, for  the  most  part  declined  to  undertake  new  business,  he 
did  not  altogether  lay  aside  his  harness,  and  he  lived  to  repeat  his 
tubular  bridges  both  in  Egypt  and  Canada.  The  success  of  the  tubu- 
lar system,  as  adopted  at  Menai  and  Conway,  was  such  as  to  recom- 
mend it  for  adoption  wherever  great  span  was  required,  and  the  pecu- 
liar circumstances  connected  with  the  navigation  of  the  Nile  and  the 
St.  Lawrence  may  be  said  to  have  compelled  its  adoption  in  carrying 
railways  across  both  those  rivers. 

Having,  as  engineers  say,  "diverged  from  the  main  line,"  and  got 
over  into  Canada,  we  may  go  on  to  speak  briefly  of  what  has  been 
done  in  railroads  in  the  provinces,  and  also  in  the  United  States.* 
The  two  main  lines  of  Canada,  the  "Grand  Trunk"  and  "Great 

•Up  to  the  beginning  of  1872. 


208  GEORGE     STEPHENSON. 

Western,"  make,  with  their  branches,  about  2,000  miles;  the  former 
has  336  locomotives  and  160  first-class  passenger  cars,  and  the  latter 
140  locomotives  and  133  first-class  cars.  Altogether  there  are,  per- 
haps, in  the  Canadas  nearly  3,000  miles  of  railroad  in  operation,  and 
over  600  locomotives  employed. 

The  people  of  the  United  States  were  the  first  to  follow  the  exam- 
ple of  England,  after  the  practicability  of  steam  locomotion  had  been 
proved  on  the  Stockton  and  Darlington  and  Liverpool  and  Man- 
chester Railways.  The  first  sod  of  the  Baltimore  and  Ohio  Railway 
was  cut  on  the  4th  of  July,  1828,  and  the  line,  as  originally  contracted 
for,  was  completed  and  opened  for  traffic  in  the  following  year,  when 
it  was  worked  partly  by  horse-power,  and  partly  by  a  locomotive  built 
at  Baltimore,  which  is  still  preserved  in  the  Company's  workshops.  In 
1830  the  Hudson  and  Mohawk  Railway  was  begun,  while  other  lines 
were  under  construction  in  Pennsylvania,  Massachusetts,  and  New  Jersey; 
and  in  the  course  of  ten  years,  1,843  miles  were  finished  and  in  operation. 
In  ten  more  years,  8,827  miles  were  at  work;  at  the  end  of  1864, 
not  less  than  35,000  miles,  mostly  single  tracks ;  while  about  15,000 
miles  more  were  under  construction.  At  the  close  of  1870  there 
were  in  operation  53,400  miles;  and  at  the  opening  of  the  present 
year,  1872,  there  were  60,850  miles  of  railway  in  the  United  States 
doing  active  duty.  In  the  passenger  and  freight  service  on  these 
roads  there  were  employed  nearly  12,000  locomotive  engines,  all  con- 
structed essentially  on  the  same  general  plan  as  the  improved  engines 
produced  by  the  Stephensons  at  Newcastle. 

Among  the  illustrations  in  this  volume  appear  cuts  representing  the 
locomotive  in  its  various  stages  of  development:  the  later  one,  a 
picture  of  one  of  the  better  class  now  used  in  the  United  States,  ac- 
companied by  a  diagram,  which  will  convey  to  the  reader  a  much 
clearer  idea  of  the  different  parts  of  this  ponderous  and  agile  machine 
than  can  be  given  by  words  alone. 

Having  spoken  of  the  length  of  railroads  in  Canada  and  the  United 
States,  we  proceed  to*  give  the  number  of  miles  in  operation  at  the 
opening  of  1867,  in  the  different  countries  of  the  world:  In  Mexico 
there  were  but  78  miles ;  in  Cuba  396  miles  ;  in  all  of  South  America 
about  1,250  miles;  in  Australasia  about  600  miles;  in  Africa  491 
miles;  in  Asiatic  Turkey  143  miles;  in  Java  101  miles;  in  Ceylon 
37  miles,  and  in  British  India  3,379  miles.  While  on  the  continent 
of  Europe  there  were  in  Turkey  170  miles;  in  Russia  2,775  miles; 
Norway  44  miles,  and  Sweden  1,025  miles;  Denmark  295  miles;  in 
Holland  700  miles;  Belgium  about  1,600  miles;  in  Austria  3,830 
miles ;  in  Prussia  and  the  remaining  German  States  9,400  miles ;  in 
Switzerland  824  miles;  in  Italy  3,215  miles;  in  Portugal  434  miles; 
in  Spain  3,116  miles;  in  France  8,982  miles;  and  in  Great  Britain 
and  Ireland  13,289  miles.  About  50,000  miles  in  all  Europe,  and  be- 
tween 6,000  and  7,000  miles  on  the  other  continents,  not  counting 


RAILWAY     WORKMEN  —  SPEEDS.  209 

North  America,  which  now  more  than  equals  in  number  of  miles 
all  that  had  elsewhere  been  built  five  years  ago. 

According  to  Mr.  Mills,  166,047  men  and  officers  were  employed 
in  the  working  of  13,289  miles  open  in  the  United  Kingdom  in  1865, 
besides  53,923  employed  on  lines  then  under  construction.  The 
most  numerous  body  of  workmen  is  that  of  the  laborers  (81,284) 
employed  in  the  maintenance  of  the  permanent  way.  Being  mostly 
picked  men  from  the  laboring  class  of  the  adjoining  districts,  they 
are  paid  considerably  higher  wages,  and  hence  one  of  the  direct 
effects  of  railways  on  the  laboring  population  (besides  affording  them 
greater  facilities  for  locomotion)  has  been  to  raise  the  standard  of 
wages  of  ordinary  labor  at  least  2s.  a  week  in  all  the  districts  into 
which  they  have  penetrated.  The  workmen  next  in  number  is  that 
of  the  artificers  (40,167)  employed  in  constructing  and  repairing  the 
rolling-stock;  the  porters  (25,381),  the  plate-layers  (12,901),  guards 
and  brakemen  (5,799),  firemen  (5,266),  and  engine-drivers  (5,171). 
But,  besides  the  employees  directly  engaged  in  the  working  and 
maintenance  of  railways,  large  numbers  of  workmen  are  also  occu- 
pied in  the  manufacture  of  locomotives  and  rolling-stock,  and  in 
providing  the  requisite  materials  for  the  permanent  way.  Thus  the 
consumption  of  rails  alone  averages  nearly  400,000  tons  a  year  in  the 
United  Kingdom  alone,  while  the  replacing  of  decayed  sleepers  re- 
quires about  10,000  acres  of  forest  to  be  cut  down  annually  and 
sawn  into  sleepers.  Taking  the  various  railway  workmen  into  account, 
with  their  families,  it  will  be  found  that  they  represent  a  total  of 
about  three-quarters  of  a  million  persons,  or  about  one  in  fifty  of 
the  population,  who  are  dependent  on  railways  for  their  subsistence. 

The  results  of  the  working  of  railways  in  many  respects  differ  from 
those  anticipated  by  their  projectors.  One  of  the  most  unexpected 
has  been  the  growth  of  an  immense  passenger-traffic.  The  Stockton 
and  Darlington  line  was  projected  as  a  coal  line  only,  and  the  Liv- 
erpool and  Manchester  as  a  merchandise  line.  Passengers  were  not 
taken  into  account  as  a  source  of  revenue;  for,  at  the  time  of  their 
projection,  it  was  not  believed  that  people  would  trust  themselves  to 
be  drawn  upon  a  railway  by  an  "explosive  machine,"  as  the  locomo- 
tive was  described  to  be.  Indeed,  a  writer  of  eminence  declared 
that  he  would  as  soon  think  of  being  fired  off  on  a  ricochet  rocket  as 
travel  on  a  railway  at  twice  the  speed  of  the  old  stage-coaches.  So 
great  was  the  alarm  which  existed  as  to  the  locomotive,  that  the  Liv- 
erpool and  Manchester  Committee  pledged  themselves,  in  their  second 
prospectus,  issued  in  1825,  "not  to  require  any  clause  empowering 
its  use;"  and  as  late  as  1829,  the  Newcastle  and  Carlisle  Act  was 
conceded  on  the  express  condition  that  it  should  not  be  worked  by 
locomotives,  but  by  horses  only. 

Nevertheless,  the  Liverpool  and  Manchester  Company  obtained 
powers  to  make  and  work  their  railway  without  any  such  restriction ; 
and  when  the  line  was  made  and  opened,  a  locomotive  passenger- 
14 


210  GEORGE      STEPHENSON. 

train  was  ordered  to  be  run  upon  it  by  way  of  experiment.  Greatly 
to  the  surprise  of  the  directors,  more  passengers  presented  themselves 
than  could  conveniently  be  carried.  The  first  passenger  vehicles  were 
of  a  very  primitive  character,  being  mainly  copied  from  the  old  stage- 
coach. The  passengers  were  "booked"  at  the  railway  office,  and 
their  names  were  entered  in  a  way-bill  which  was  given  to  the  guard 
when  the  train  started.  Though  the  usual  stage-coach  bugleman 
could  not  conveniently  go  along,  the  trains  were  played  out  of  the 
terminal  stations  by  a  lively  tune  performed  at  the  end  of  the  platform ; 
this  was  done  at  the  Manchester  Station  until  a  comparatively  recent 
date. 

The  number  of  passengers  was  so  unexpectedly  great  that  it  was 
soon  found  necessary  to  remodel  the  entire  system.  Tickets  were  in- 
troduced, and  more  roomy  and  commodious  carriages  provided. 
Every  thing  was  found  to  have  been  made  too  light.  The  prize 
"  Rocket,"  which  weighed  only  4^  tons  when  loaded  with  its  coke 
and  water,  was  found  quite  unsuited  for  drawing  the  increasingly 
heavy  loads  of  passengers.  There  was  this  difference  between  the 
stage-coach  and  the  railway  train,  the  former  was  "  full"  with  six  in- 
side and  ten  outside,  the  latter  must  be  able  to  accommodate  what- 
ever number  of  passengers  came.  Hence  heavier  and  more  powerful 
engines,  and  larger  and  more  substantial  carriages,  were  from  time  to 
time  added. 

The  speed  of  the  trains  was  increased.  The  first  locomotives  used 
with  coal-trains  ran  four  to  six  miles  an  hour.  On  the  Darlington 
line  the  speed  was  increased  to  about  ten  miles,  and  on  the  Manches- 
ter line  the  first  passenger-trains  were  run  at  the  average  speed  of 
seventeen  miles  an  hour,  at  that  time  considered  very  fast.  When 
the  London  and  Birmingham  line  was  opened,  the  mail-trains  were 
run  at  twenty-three  miles  an  hour ;  and  gradually  the  speed  went  up, 
until  now  the  fast  trains  are  run  fifty  to  sixty  miles  an  hour — the 
pistons  in  the  cylinders,  at  sixty  miles,  traveling  800  feet  per  minute. 

To  bear  the  heavy  engines  run  at  high  speeds,  a  much  stronger  and 
heavier  road  was  found  necessary.  Shortly  after  the  opening  of  the 
Liverpool  and  Manchester  line,  it  was  entirely  relaid  with  stronger 
materials.  Now  that  express  passenger-engines  are  from  thirty  to 
thirty-five  tons  each,  the  weight  of  the  rails  has  been  increased  from 
35  Ibs.  to  75  Ibs.  or  86  Ibs.  to  the  yard.  Stone  blocks  have  given 
place  to  wooden  sleepers ;  rails  with  loose  ends  resting  on  the  chairs, 
to  rails  with  their  ends  firmly  "fished"  together;  and  in  many 
places,  where  the  traffic  is  unusually  heavy,  iron  rails  have  been  re- 
placed by  those  of  steel. 

And  now  see  the  enormous  magnitude  to  which  railway  passenger- 
traffic  has  grown.  In  the  year  1866,  274,293,668  passengers  were 
carried  by  day  tickets  in  Great  Britain  alone.  But  this  was  not  all ; 
for  in  that  year  110,227  periodical  tickets  were  issued  by  the  different 
railways ;  and  assuming  half  of  them  to  be  annual,  one-fourth  half- 


STATISTICS     OF      RAILWAY    TRAFFIC.  211 

yearly,  and  the  remainder  quarterly,  tickets,  and  that  their  holders 
made  only  five  journeys  each  way  weekly,  this  would  give  an  addi- 
tional number  of  39,405,600  journeys,  or  a  total  of  313,699,268  pas- 
sengers carried  in  Great  Britain  in  one  year. 

It  is  difficult  to  grasp  the  idea  of  the  enormous  number  of  persons 
represented  by  these  figures.  The  mind  is  bewildered,  and  can  form 
no  adequate  notion  of  their  magnitude.  To  reckon  them  singly  would 
occupy  twenty  years,  counting  one  a  second  for  twelve  hours  a  day. 
Or,  supposing  every  man,  woman,  and  child  in  Great  Britain  to  make 
ten  journeys  by  rail  yearly,  the  number  would  fall  short  of  the  passen- 
gers carried  in  1866. 

Mr.  Porter,  in  his  "Progress  of  the  Nation,"  estimated  that  thirty 
millions  of  passengers,  or  about  eighty-two  thousand  a  day,  traveled 
by  coaches  in  Great  Britain  in  1834,  an  average  distance  of  twelve 
miles  each,  at  an  average  cost  of  5^.  a  passenger,  or  at  the  rate  of  5^. 
a  mile  ;  whereas  above  313  millions  are  now  carried  by  railway  an 
average  distance  of  8^4  miles  each,  at  an  average  cost  of  is.  \yzd. 
per  passenger,  or  about  three  half-pence  per  mile,  iy  considerably 
less  than  half  the  time. 

But,  besides,  one  hundred  and  twenty-four  million  tons  of  minerals 
and  merchandise  were  carried  by  railway  in  the  United  Kingdom  in 
1866,  and  fifteen  millions  of  cattle,  besides  mails,  parcels,  and  other 
traffic.  The  distance  run  by  passenger  and  goods  trains  in  the  year 
was  142,807,853  miles,  to  accomplish  which  it  is  estimated  that  four 
miles  of  railway  on  an  average  must  be  covered  by  running  trains 
during  every  second  all  the  year  round. 

To  perform  this  service,  there  were,  in  1866,  8,125  locomotives  at 
work  in  the  United  Kingdom,  consuming  about  three  million  tons  of 
coal  and  coke,  and  flashing  into  the  air  every  minute  some  thirty 
tons  of  water  in  the  form  of  steam  in  a  high  state  of  elasticity.  There 
were  also  19,228  passenger-cars,  7,276  vans  and  breaks  attached  to 
passenger-trains,  and  242,947  trucks,  wagons,  and  other  vehicles  ap- 
propriated to  merchandise.  Buckled  together,  buffer  to  buffer,  the 
locomotives  and  tenders  would  extend  for  a  length  of  about  54  miles, 
or  more  than  the  distance  from  London  to  Brighton  ;  while  the  carry- 
ing vehicles,  joined  together,  would  form  two  trains  occupying  a 
double  line  of  railway  extending  from  London  to  beyond  Inverness. 

A  notable  feature  in  the  growth  of  railway  traffic  of  late  years  has 
been  the  increase  in  the  number  of  third-class  passengers,  compared 
with  first  and  second  class.  Sixteen  years  since,  the  third-class  pas- 
sengers constituted  only  about  one-third ;  ten  years  later  they  were 
about  one-half;  whereas  now  they  form  nearly  two-thirds  of  the  whole 
number  carried.  Thus  George  Stephenson's  prediction,  "  that  the  time 
would  come  when  it  would  be  cheaper  for  a  working  man  to  make  a 
journey  by  railway  than  to  walk  on  foot,"  is  already  realized. 

The  degree  of  safety  with  which  this  great  traffic  has  been  con- 
ducted is  not  the  least  remarkable  of  its  features.  Of  course,  so  long 


212  GEORGE     STEPHENSON. 

as  railways  are  worked  by  men,  they  will  be  liable  to  the  imperfections 
belonging  to  all  things  human.  Though  their  machinery  may  be 
perfect,  and  their  organization  as  complete  as  skill  and  forethought 
can  make  it,  workmen  will  at  times  be  forgetful  and  listless,  and  a 
moment's  carelessness  may  lead  to  the  most  disastrous  results.  Yet, 
taking  all  circumstances  into  account,  the  wonder  is  that  traveling  by 
railway  at  high  speeds  should  have  been  rendered  comparatively  so 
safe. 

To  be  struck  by  lightning  is  one  of  the  rarest  of  all  causes  of  death, 
yet  more  persons  were  killed  by  lightning  in  Great  Britain,  in  1866, 
than  were  killed  on  railways  from  causes  beyond  their  own  control ; 
the  number  in  the  former  case  having  been  nineteen,  and  in  the  latter 
fifteen,  or  one  in  every  twenty  millions  of  passengers  carried.  Most 
persons  would  consider  the  probability  of  their  dying  by  hanging  to 
be  extremely  remote ;  yet,  according  to  the  Registrar  General's  re- 
turns for  1867,  it  is  thirty  times  greater  than  that  of  being  killed  by 
railway  accident.  Taking  the  number  of  persons  who  traveled  in 
Great  Britain  in  1866  at  313,699,268,  of  whom  fifteen  were  accident- 
ally killed,  it  would  appear  that,  even  supposing  a  person  to  have  a 
permanent  existence,  and  to  make  a  journey  by  railway  daily,,  the 
probability  of  his  being  killed  in  an  accident  would  occur  on  an 
average  once  in  above  50,000  years. 

The  remarkable  safety  with  which  railway  traffic  is  on  the  whole 
conducted,  is  due  to  constant  watchfulness  and  highly-applied  skill. 
The  men  who  work  the  railways  are  for  the  most  part  picked  men. 
Where  railways  fail  in  these  respects,  it  will  usually  be  found  that  it 
is  because  better  men  are  not  to  be  had.  It  must  also  be  added  that 
the  onerous  and  responsible  duties  which  railway  workmen  are  called 
upon  to  perform  require  a  degree  of  consideration  on  the  part  of  the 
public  which  is  not  very  often  extended  to  them. 

Few  are  aware  of  the  complicated  means  and  agencies  that  are  in 
constant  operation  on  railways  day  and  night  to  insure  the  safety  of 
the  passengers  to  their  journeys'  end.  The  road  is  under  a  system 
of  continuous  inspection,  under  gangs  of  men — about  twelve  to  every 
five  miles,  under  a  foreman — whose  duty  it  is  to  see  that  the  rails  and 
chairs  are  sound,  all  their  fastenings  complete,  and  the  line  clear  of 
obstructions. 

Then,  at  all  the  junctions,  sidings,  and  crossings,  switch-men  are 
stationed,  with  definite  instructions  as  to  the  duties  to  be  performed 
by  them.  At  these  places  signals  are  provided,  worked  from  the 
station  platforms,  or  from  special  signal-boxes,  for  the  purpose  of  pro- 
tecting the  stopping  or  passing  trains.  When  the  first  railways  were 
opened  the  signals  were  of  a  very  simple  kind.  The  station-men 
gave  them  with  their  arms  stretched  out  in  different  positions ;  then 
flags  of  different  colors  were  used ;  next  fixed  signals,  with  arms  or 
discs,  or  of  rectangular  or  triangular  shape.  These  were  followed  by 


RUNNING     TRAINS    BY     TELEGRAPH.  213 

a  complete  system  of  semaphore  signals,  near  and  distant,  protecting 
all  junctions,  sidings,  and  crossings. 

The  Electric  Telegraph  has  also  been  found  a  valuable  auxiliary 
in  insuring  the  safe  working  of  large  railway  traffics.  Though  the 
locomotive  may  run  at  sixty  miles  an  hour,  electricity,  when  at  its 
fastest,  travels  at  the  rate  of  288,000  miles  a  second,  and  is  therefore 
always  able  to  herald  the  coming  train.  The  electric  telegraph  may, 
indeed,  be  regarded  as  the  nervous  system  of  the  railway.  By  its 
means  the  whole  line  is  kept  throbbing  with  intelligence.  The  method 
of  working  electric  signals  varies  on  different  lines ;  but  the  usual 
practice  is  to  divide  a  line  into  so  many  lengths,  each  protected  by  its 
signal-stations,  the  fundamental  law  of  telegraph  working  being  that 
two  engines  are  not  to  be  allowed  to  run  on  the  same  line  between 
two  signal-stations  at  the  same  time.  When  a  train  passes  one  of 
such  stations,  it  is  immediately  signaled  on — usually  by  electric  sig- 
nal-bells— to  the  station  in  advance,  and  that  inverval  of  railway  is 
"blocked"  until  the  signal  has  been  received  from  the  station  in  ad- 
vance that  the  train  has  passed  it.  Thus,  an  interval  of  space  is  always 
secured  between  trains  following  each  other,  which  are  thereby  alike 
protected  before  and  behind.  And  thus,  when  a  train  starts  on  a 
journey  of  it  may  be  hundreds  of  miles,  it  is  signaled  on  from  station 
to  station,  and  "lives  along  the  line,"  until  at  length  it  reaches  its 
destination,  and  the  last  signal  of  "train  in"  is  given.  By  this 
means  an  immense  number  of  trains  can  be  worked  with  regularity 
and  safety. 

One  of  the  remarkable  effects  of  railways  has  been  to  extend  the 
residential  area  of  all  large  towns  and  cities.  This  is  especially  nota- 
ble in  the  case  of  London.  Before  the  introduction  of  railways,  the 
residential  area  of  the  metropolis  was  limited  by  the  time  occupied 
by  business  men  in  making  the  journey  outward  and  inward  daily ; 
but  now  that  stations  have  been  established  near  the  center  of  the 
^ity,  the  metropolis  has  become  extended  in  all  directions  along  its 
railway  lines,  and  the  population  of  London,  instead  of  living  in  the 
city  or  its  immediate  vicinity  as  formerly,  have  come  to  occupy  a 
residential  area  of  not  less  than  six  hundred  square  miles  ! 

We  have  little  to  add  as  to  the  closing  events  in  Robert  Stephen- 
son's  life.  Retired  in  a  great  measure  from  the  business  of  an  en- 
gineer, he  occupied  himself  for  the  most  part  in  society,  in  yachting, 
and  in  attending  the  House  of  Commons  and  the  Clubs.  It  was  in 
the  year  1847  l^at  he  entered  the  House  of  Commons  as  member  for 
Whitby;  but  he  does  not  seem  to  have  been  very  regular  in  his  at- 
tendance, and  only  appeared  on  divisions  when  there  was  a  "whip" 
of  the  party  to  which  he  belonged.  He  was  a  member  of  the  Sew- 
age and  Sanitary  Commissions,  and  of  the  Commission  which  sat  on 
Westminster  Bridge.  He  very  seldom  addressed  the  House,  and  then 
only  on  matters  relating  to  engineering.  The  last  occasions  on  which 


214  GEORGE     STEPHENSON. 

he  spoke  were  on  the  Suez  Canal  and  the  cleansing  of  the  Serpentine. 
Besides  constructing  the  railway  between  Alexandria  and  Cairo,  he 
was  consulted,  like  his  father,  by  the  King  of  Belgium  as  to  the  rail- 
ways of  that  country;  and  he  was  made  Knight  of  the  Order  of  Leo- 
pold, because  of  the  improvements  which  he  had  made  in  locomotive 
engines,  so  much  to  the  advantage  of  the  Belgian  system  of  inland 
transit.  He  was  consulted  by  the  King  of  Sweden  as  to  the  railway 
between  Christiana  and  Lake  Miosen,  and  in  consideration  of  his  ser- 
vices was  decorated  with  the  Grand  Cross  of  the  Order  of  St.  Olaf. 
He  also  visited  Switzerland,  Piedmont,  and  Denmark,  to  advise  as  to 
the  system  of  railway  communication  best  suited  for  those  countries. 
At  the  Paris  Exhibition  of  1855,  the  Emperor  of  France  decorated 
him  with  the  Legion  of  Honor  in  consideration  of  his  public  services; 
and  at  home  the  University  of  Oxford  made  him  a  Doctor  of  Civil 
Laws.  In  1855,  he  was  elected  President  of  the  Institute  of  Civil 
Engineers,  which  office  he  held  with  honor  and  filled  with  distin- 
guished ability  for  two  years,  giving  place  to  his  friend  Mr.  Locke  at 
the  end  of  1857. 

He  was  habitually  careless  of  his  health,  and  perhaps  he  indulged 
in  narcotics  to  a  prejudicial  extent.  Hence  he  often  became  "  hip- 
ped," and  sometimes  ill.  When  Mr.  Sopwith  accompanied  him  to 
Egypt  in  the  Titania,  in  1856,  he  succeeded  in  persuading  Mr.  Ste- 
phenson  to  limit  his  indulgence  in  cigars  and  stimulants,  and  the 
consequence  was  that  by  the  end  of  the  voyage  he  felt  himself,  as  he 
said,  "quite  a  new  man."  Arrived  at  Marseilles,  he  telegraphed 
from  thence  a  message  to  Great  George  Street,  prescribing  certain 
stringent  and  salutary  rules  for  observance  in  the  office  there  on  his 
return.  But  he  was  of  a  facile,  social  disposition,  and  the  old  asso- 
ciations proved  too  strong  for  him.  When  he  sailed  for  Norway  in 
the  autumn  of  1859,  though  then  ailing  in  health,  he  looked  like  a 
man  who  had  still  plenty  of  life  in  him.  By  the  time  he  returned 
his  fatal  illness  had  seized  him.  He  was  attacked  by  congestion  of 
the  liver,  which  first  developed  itself  in  jaundice,  and  then  ran  into 
dropsy,  of  which  he  died  on  the  i2th  of  October,  in  the  fifty-sixth 
year  of  his  age.  He  was  buried  by  the  side  of  Telford  in  Westmin- 
ster Abbey,  amid  the  departed  great  men  of  his  country,  and  was  at- 
tended to  his  resting-place  by  many  of  the  intimate  friends  of  his 
boyhood  and  his  manhood.  Among  those  who  assembled  round  his 
grave  were  some  of  the  greatest  men  of  thought  and  action  in  Eng- 
land, who  embraced  the  sad  occasion  to  pay  the  last  mark  of  their 
respect  to  this  illustrious  son  of  one  of  England's  greatest  working 
men. 

It  would  be  out  of  keeping  with  the  subject  thus  drawn  to  a  con- 
clusion to  pronounce  any  panegyric  on  the  character  and  achieve- 
ments of  George  and  Robert  Stephenson.  These,  for  the  most  part, 
speak  for  themselves  ;  and  both  were  emphatically  true  men,  exhibit- 
ing in  their  lives  many  valuable  and  sterling  qualities. 


SINCERE     IN    WORK,    AND     IN     FRIENDSHIP.  215 

No  beginning  could  have  been  less  promising  than  that  of  the  elder 
Stephenson.  Born  in  a  poor  condition,  yet  rich  in  spirit,  he  was  from 
the  first  compelled  to  rely  upon  himself,  every  step  of  advance  which 
he  made  being  conquered  by  patient  labor.  Whether  working  as  a 
brakeman  or  an  engineer,  his  mind  was  always  full  of  the  work  in 
hand.  He  gave  himself  thoroughly  up  to  it.  Like  the  painter,  he 
might  say  that  he  had  become  great  "by  neglecting  nothing." 
Whatever  he  was  engaged  upon,  he  was  as  careful  of  the  details  as  if 
each  were  itself  the  whole.  He  did  all  thoroughly  and  honestly. 
There  was  no  "scamping"  with  him.  When  a  workman,  he  put  his 
brains  and  labor  into  his  work ;  and  when  a  master,  he  put  his  con- 
science and  character  into  it.  He  would  have  no  slop-work  executed 
merely  for  the  sake  of  profit.  The  materials  must  be  as  genuine  as 
the  workmanship  was  skillful.  The  structures  which  he  designed  and 
executed  were  distinguished  for  their  thoroughness  and  solidity ;  his 
locomotives  were  famous  for  their  durability  and  excellent  working 
qualities.  The  engines  which  he  sent  to  the  United  States  in  1832 
are  still  in  good  condition ;  and  even  the  engines  built  by  him  for 
the  Killingworth  Colliery,  upward  of  thirty  years  since,  are  working 
there  to  this  day.  All  his  work  was  honest,  representing  the  actual 
character  of  the  man. 

He  was  ready  to  turn  his  hand  to  any  thing — shoes  and  clocks, 
railways  and  locomotives.  He  contrived  his  safety-lamp  with  the  ob- 
ject of  saving  pitmen's  lives,  and  periled  his  own  life  in  testing  it. 
With  him  to  resolve  was  to  do.  Many  men  knew  far  more  than 
he,  but  none  was  more  ready  forthwith  to  apply  what  he  did 
know  to  practical  purposes.  It  was  while  working  at  Willington 
as  a  brakeman  that  he  first  learned  how  best  to  handle  a  spade  in 
throwing  ballast  out  of  the  ship's  holds.  This  casual  employment 
seems  to  have  left  upon  his  mind  the  most  lasting  impression  of  what 
"hard  work"  was;  and  he  often  used  to  revert  to  it,  and  say  to  the 
young  men  about  him,  "  Ah,  ye  lads  !  there's  none  o'  ye  know  what 
work  is."  Mr.  Gooch  says  he  was  proud  of  the  dexterity  in  hand- 
ling a  spade  which  he  had  thus  acquired,  and  that  he  has  frequently 
seen  him  take  the  shovel  from  a  laborer  in  some  railway  cutting,  ami 
show  him  how  to  use  it  more  deftly  in  filling  wagons  of  earth,  gravel, 
or  sand. 

In  manner,  George  Stephenson  was  simple,  modest,  and  unassum- 
ing, but  always  manly.  He  was  frank  and  social  in  spirit.  When 
a  humble  workman,  he  had  carefully  preserved  his  sense  of  self- re- 
spect. His  companions  looked  up  to  him,  and  his  example  was  worth 
much  more  to  many  of  them  than  books  or  schools.  His  devoted 
love  of  knowledge  made  his  poverty  respectable,  and  adorned  his  hum- 
ble calling.  When  he  rose  to  a  more  elevated  station,  and  associated 
with  men  of  the  highest  position  and  influence  in  Britain,  he  took 
his  place  among  them  with  perfect  self-possession.  They  wondered 
at  the  quiet  ease  and  simple  dignity  of  his  deportment ;  and  men  in 


2l6  GEORGE     STEPHENSON. 

the  best  ranks  of  life  have  said  of  him  that  "  he  was  one  of  Nature's 
gentlemen." 

Probably  no  military  chiefs  were  ever  more  beloved  by  their  sol- 
diers than  were  both  father  and  son  by  the  army  of  men  who,  under 
their  guidance,  worked  at  labors  of  profit,  made  labors  of  love  by 
their  earnest  will  and  purpose.  True  leaders  of  men  and  lords  of 
industry,  they  were  always  ready  to  recognize  and  encourage  talent 
in  those  who  worked  for  and  with  them.  Thus  it  was  pleasant,  at 
the  openings  of  the  Stephenson  lines,  to  hear  the  chief  engineers  at- 
tributing the  successful  completion  of  the  works  to  their  assistants ; 
while  their  assistants,  on  the  other  hand,  ascribed  the  principal  glory 
to  their  chiefs. 

George  Stephenson,  though  a  thrifty  and  frugal  man,  was  essen- 
tially unsordid.  His  rugged  path  in  early  life  made  him  careful  of 
his  resources.  He  never  saved  to  hoard,  but  saved  for  a  purpose, 
such  as  the  maintenance  of  his  parents  or  the  education  of  his  son. 
In  his  later  years,  he  became  a  prosperous  and  even  a  wealthy  man  ; 
but  riches  never  closed  his  heart,  nor  stole  away  the  elasticity  of  his 
soul.  He  enjoyed  life  cheerfully,  because  hopefully.  When  he  en- 
tered upon  a  commercial  enterprise,  whether  for  others  or  for  himself, 
he  looked  carefully  at  the  ways  and  means.  Unless  they  would 
"pay,"  he  held  back.  "He  would  have  nothing  to  do,"  he  de- 
clared, "with  stock-jobbing  speculations."  His  refusal  to  sell  his 
name  to  the  schemes  of  the  railway  mania — his  survey  of  the  Spanish 
lines  without  remuneration — his  offer  to  postpone  his  claim  for  pay- 
ment from  a  poor  company  until  their  affairs  became  more  prosper- 
ous, are  instances  of  the  unsordid  spirit  in  which  he  acted. 

Another  marked  feature  m  Mr.  Stephenson's  character  was  his  pa- 
tience. Notwithstanding  the  strength  of  his  convictions  as  to  the 
great  uses  to  which  the  locomotive  might  be  applied,  he  waited  long 
and  patiently  for  the  opportunity  of  bringing  it  into  notice ;  and  for 
years  after  he  had  completed  an  efficient  engine,  he  went  on  quietly 
devoting  himself  to  the  ordinary  work  of  the  colliery.  He  made  no 
noise  nor  stir  about  his  locomotive,  but  allowed  another  to  take  credit 
for  the  experiments  on  velocity  and  friction  which  he  had  made  with 
it  upon  the  Killingworth  railroad.  By  patient  industry  and  labori- 
ous contrivance,  he  was  enabled,  with  the  powerful  help  of  his  son, 
almost  to  do  for  the  locomotive  what  James  Watt  had  done  for  the 
condensing  engine.  He  found  it  clumsy  and  inefficient,  and  he  made 
it  powerful,  efficient,  and  useful.  Both  have  been  described  as  the 
improvers  of  their  respective  engines;  but,  as  to  all  that  is  admirable 
in  their  structure  or  vast  in  their  utility,  they  are  rather  entitled  to 
be  described  as  their  inventors.  They  have  both  tended  to  increase 
indefinitely  the  mass  of  human  comforts  and  enjoyments,  and  to 
render  them  cheap  and  accessible  to  all.  But  Stephenson's  inven- 
tion, by  the  influence  which  it  is  daily  exercising  upon  the  civiliza- 
tion of  the  world,  is  even  more  remarkable  than  that  of  Watt,  and  is 


POWERS     OF     CONVERSATION    AND     OBSERVATION.    217 

calculated  to  have  still  more  important  consequences.  In  this  respect 
it  is  to  be  regarded  as  the  grandest  application  of  steam  power  that 
has  yet  been  discovered. 

George  Stephenson's  powers  of  conversation  were  very  great.  He 
was  so  thoughtful,  original,  and  suggestive.  There  was  scarcely  a 
department  of  science  on  which  he  had  not  formed  some  novel  and 
sometimes  daring  theory.  Thus  Mr.  Gooch,  his  pupil,  who  lived 
with  him  when  at  Liverpool,  informs  us  that,  when  sitting  over  the 
fire,  he  would  frequently  broach  his  favorite  theory  of  the  sun's  light 
and  heat  being  the  original  source  of  the  light  and  heat  given  forth 
by  the  burning  coal.  "It  fed  the  plants  of  which  that  coal  is  made," 
he  would  say,  "and  has  been  bottled  up  in  the  earth  ever  since,  to 
be  given  out  again  now  for  the  use  of  man."  His  son  Robert  once 
said  of  him,  "My  father  flashed  his  bull's  eye  full  upon  a  subject, 
and  brought  it  out  in  its  most  vivid  light  in  an  instant :  his  strong 
common  sense  and  his  varied  experience,  operating  on  a  thoughtful 
mind,  were  his  most  powerful  illuminators." 

The  Bishop  of  Oxford  related  the  following  anecdote  of  him  at  a 
recent  public  meeting  in  London:  "He  heard  the  other  day  of  an 
answer  given  by  the  great  self-taught  man,  Stephenson,  when  he  was 
speaking  with  something  of  distrust  of  what  were  called  competitive 
examinations.  Stephenson  said,  'I  distrust  them  for  this  reason — 
they  will  lead,  it  seems  to  me,  to  an  unlimited  power  of  cram;'  and 
he  added,  '  Let  me  give  you  one  piece  of  advice — never  to  judge  of 
your  goose  by  its  stuffing !"; 

George  Stephenson  had  once  a  conversation  with  a  watchmaker, 
whom  he  astonished  by  the  extent  and  minuteness  of  his  knowledge 
as  to  the  parts  of  a  watch.  The  watchmaker  knew  him  to  be  an  emi- 
nent engineer,  and  asked  how  he  had  acquired  so  extensive  a  knowl- 
edge of  a  branch  of  business  so  much  out  of  his  sphere.  "It  is  very 
easily  explained,"  said  Stephenson;  "I  worked  long  at  watch-clean- 
ing myself,  and  when  I  was  at  a  loss,  I  was  never  ashamed  to  ask  for 
information." 

His  hand  was  open  to  his  former  fellow-workmen  whom  old  age 
had  left  in  poverty.  To  poor  Robert  Gray,  of  Newburn,  who  acted 
as  his  brideman  on  his  marriage  to  Fanny  Henderson,  he  left  a  pen- 
sion for  life.  He  would  slip  a  five-pound  note  into  the  hand  of  a 
poor  man  or  a  widow  in  such  a  way  as  not  to  offend  their  delicacy, 
but  to  make  them  feel  as  if  the  obligation  were  all  on  his  side. 
When  Farmer  Paterson,  who  married  a  sister  of  George's  first  wife, 
Fanny  Henderson,  died  and  left  a  large  young  family  fatherless,  pov- 
erty stared  them  in  the  face.  "But  ye  ken,"  said  our  informant, 
"George  struck  infaytherfor  them"  And  perhaps  the  providential 
character  of  the  act  could  not  have  been  more  graphically  expressed 
than  in  these  simple  words. 

On  his  visit  to  Newcastle,  he  would  frequently  meet  the  friends  of 
his  early  days,  occupying  very  nearly  the  same  station  in  life,  while 


2l8  GEORGE    STEPHENSON. 

he  had  meanwhile  risen  to  almost  world-wide  fame ;  but  he  was  not 
less  hearty  in  his  greeting  of  them  than  if  their  relative  position  had 
remained  the  same.  Thus,  one  day,  after  shaking  hands  with  Mr. 
Brandling  on  alighting  from  his  carriage,  he  proceeded  to  shake  hands 
with  his  coachman,  Anthony  Wigham,  a  still  older  friend,  though  he 
only  sat  on  the  box. 

Robert  Stephenson  inherited  his  father's  kindly  spirit  and  benevo- 
lent disposition,  and  almost  worshiped  his  father's  memory;  he  was 
ever  ready  to  attribute  to  him  the  chief  merit  of  his  own  achieve- 
ments as  an  engineer.  "It  was  his  thorough  training,  his  example, 
and  his  character,  which  made  me  the  man  I  am." 

In  society  Robert  Stephenson  was  simple,  unobtrusive,  and  modest, 
but  charming  and  even  fascinating  in  an  eminent  degree.  Sir  John 
Lawrence  has  said  of  him  that  he  was,  of  all  others,  the  man  he 
most  delighted  to  meet  in  England — he  was  so  manly,  yet  gentle, 
and  withal  so  great.  While  admired  and  beloved  by  men  of  such 
caliber,  he  was  equally  a  favorite  with  women  and  children.  He  put 
himself  upon  the  level  of  all,  and  charmed  them  no  less  by  his  inex- 
pressible kindliness  of  manner  than  by  his  simple  yet  impressive  con- 
versation. 

His  great  wealth  enabled  him  to  perform  many  generous  acts  in  a 
right  noble  and  yet  modest  manner,  not  letting  his  right  hand  know 
what  his  left  hand  did.  Both  father  and  son  were  offered  knight- 
hood, and  both  declined  it. 

As  respects  the  immense  advantages  of  railways  to  mankind,  there 
can  not  be  two  opinions.  They  exhibit,  probably,  the  grandest  or- 
ganization of  capital  and  labor  that  the  world  has  yet  seen.  Although 
they  have  unhappily  occasioned  great  loss  to  many,  the  loss  has  been 
that  of  individuals,  while,  as  a  national  system,  the  gain  has  already 
been  enormous.  As  tending  to  multiply  and  spread  abroad  the  con- 
veniences of  life,  opening  up  new  fields  of  industry,  bringing  nations 
nearer  to  each  other,  and  thus  promoting  the  great  ends  of  civiliza- 
tion, the  founding  of  the  railway  system  by  George  Stephenson  and 
his  son  must  be  regarded  as  one  of  the  most  important  events,  if  not 
the  very  greatest,  in  the  first  half  of  this  nineteenth  century. 


THE  STEAM-ENGINE. 


DO  not  be  startled,  dear  reader  of  biographies,  at  the  subject 
pressed  upon  us  for  our  present  sketch,  albeit  our  work  is  a 
volume  of  biographies.  We  hear  much  of  the  iron  age,  the  golden 
age,  the  age  of  steam,  etcetera,  but  can  any  one  tell  us  when  steam  was 
born,  or  when  it  will  cease  to  be?  Manifestly  then,  we  are,  at  least  appar- 
ently, unequal  to  the  task  in  hand.  Many  may  almost  remember  the 
time  when  "all  the  steam  came  from  grand-ma's  kettle;"  but  our 
boilers  are  getting  large  now,  and  frequently  burst  and  destroy  us 
poor  humans.  Thus  far  our  biographical  sketches  have  been  of  men, 
high  in  the  scale  of  mental  power  and  mechanical  genius;  men  of 
brains  and  spirit.  Out  of  their  brains  and  spirit,  the  great,  may  we  say 
undying,  life  of  the  STEAM-ENGINE  was  first  spoken,  and  then  wrought 
into  power.  We  know  its  spirit,  we  can  in  some  degree  measure  its 
power ;  we  have  felt  and  seen  its  manifestations  of  strength  ;  we  know 
its  frame ;  its  thews,  its  sinews,  are  of  iron,  and  we  have  all  felt  the 
pulsations  of  its  Titan  heart ;  and  so  we  move  on  to  detail  somewhat 
more  of  its  life  and  sources  of  power  than  has  in  previous  sketches 
been  made  clear.  There  are  many  circumstances  attending  this  ex- 
traordinary piece  of  mechanism  which  impart  to  it  an  interest  univer- 
sally felt ;  whether  we  regard  the  details  of  its  structure  and  operation, 
the  physical  principles  which  it  calls  into  play,  or  the  beautiful  con- 
trivances by  which  these  physical  principles  are  rendered  available. 

The  limnings  thus  far  presented  to  our  readers  are,  with  two  ex- 
ceptions, biographies  of  men  out  of  whose  lives  was  evolved,  so  to 
speak,  the  Life  of  the  Steam-Engine,  and  it  is  not  a  little  remarkable 
perhaps,  that  in  nearly  every  instance  these  individuals  began  their 
speculations  and  investigations  into  steam — this  dormant  element  of 
strength — in  districts  where  the  food  for  our  gigantic  motive-power 
lay  treasured  in  Nature's  great  store-houses,  of  limitless  extent ;  ready 
to  feed  the  monster,  from  the  day  of  its  birth  to  the  day  of  its 
death ;  which  for  aught  that  appears  will  occur  at  the  end  of  time. 

(219) 


220  WHO      DEVELOPED      STEAM-POWER. 

Mr.  Phillips,  the  eminent  Professor  of  Geology,  in  the  University 
of  Oxford,  remarks  that,  "  coal,  since  it  has  been  applied  to  the 
steam-engine,  is  really  hoarded  power  applicable  to  almost  every  pur- 
pose which  human  labor,  directed  by  ingenuity,  can  accomplish." 
He  then  goes  on  to  remark,  with  the  pride  of  a  genuine  Briton,  "It 
is  the  possession  of  her  coal-mines  which  has  rendered  Britain  in  re- 
lation to  the  whole  world,  what  a  city  is  to  the  rural  district  which 
surrounds  it — the  producer  and  dispenser  of  the  various  products  of 
art  and  industry.  Our  coal-fields  are  vastly  more  precious  to  us  than 
would  have  been  mines  of  the  precious  metals,  like  those  of  Peru  and 
Mexico."  If  the  latter  statement  be  true  of  Britain  it  must  be  true 
of  the  United  States  also,  even  to  a  much  greater  extent. 

According  to  Mr.  Hunt,  the  keeper  of  the  Mining  Records  of 
Britain,  the  coal  area  of  the  British  Islands  is  12,800  square  miles,  or 
one-tenth  of  the  whole  surface ;  according  to  the  same  authority,  the 
proportion  in  the  United  States  is  still  greater ;  the  coal  area  being 
two-ninths  of  the  whole  surface.  Scotland  possesses  the  largest  coal- 
field in  Britain — 1,600  square  miles  in  the  basin  of  the  Forth  and 
Clyde ;  this  field  is  very  rich  in  iron  as  well  as  coal.  Between  the 
Tweed  and  the  Trent,  in  the  north  of  England,  there  are  nearly 
10,000  square  miles. 

As  already  suggested  in  this  connection  it  was  in  one  of  these  dis- 
tricts that  Watt  brought  forth  his  almost,  if  not  quite  perfect,  con- 
densing engine.  On  the  Forth  and  Clyde  Canal  was  the  theater  for 
Symington's  steam-boat.  Near  Newcastle — the  Newcastle  of  coals — 
the  Stephensons  grew  to  maturity,  connected  with  those  great  collieries; 
and  there,  too,  grew  to  full  development  of  monstrous  power  and 
bird-like  speed,  their  giant  pet,  the  locomotive.  On  the  Schuylkill 
and  the  Delaware  successfully  experimented  Oliver  Evans  and  John 
Fitch  ;  here,  too,  on  or  near  the  great  anthracite  coal-fields  of  Penn- 
sylvania, Robert  Fulton  first  saw  the  light,  and  noted  the  development 
of  steam-power,  to  which  he  has  allied  his  name  for  all  time. 

We  propose  now  to  see  what  the  steam-engine,  well  fed  and 
watered,  can  do;  in  the  language  of  Dr.  Lardner,  "Coals  are  by 
the  steam-engine,  made  to  spin,  weave,  dye,  print,  and  dress  silks, 
cottons,  woollens,  and  other  cloths ;  to  make  paper,  and  print  books 
upon  it,  when  made,  to  express  oil  from  the  olive  [aye,  we  may  add, 
and  from  cotton-seed  too,  which  is  largely  taking  the  place  of  the 
oil  from  the  olive,  for  which  it  is  sold  in  all  the  markets  of  the 
world],  and  wine  from  the  grape  ;  to  draw  up  metal  from  the  bowels 
of  the  earth;  to  pound  and  smelt  it,  to  melt  and  mold  it,  to  forge 
it,  to  roll  it,  and  fashion  it  into  every  desirable  form  ;  to  transport 
these  manifold  products  of  its  own  labor  to  the  doors  of  those  for 
whose  convenience  they  are  produced ;  to  carry  persons  and  goods 
over  water  and  land,  from  town  to  town,  and  country  to  country, 
with  a  speed  as  much  exceeding  the  ordinary  wind,  as  the  ordinary 
wind  exceeds  that  of  a  common  pedestrian." 


INTERESTING     FACTS.  221 

"  Such  are  the  virtues,  such  the  powers,  which  the  steam-engine, 
with  its  rotary  or  continuously  circular  motion,  as  brought  into  being  by 
Watt,  has  conferred  upon  COALS.  The  means  of  calling  these  powers 
into  activity  are  supplied  by  a  substance  which  nature  has  happily  pro- 
vided in  unbounded  quantity  in  every  part  of  the  earth  ;  and,  though 
it  has  no  price,  it  has  inestimable  value.  This  substance  is  water.  A 
pint  of  water  may  be  evaporated  by  two  ounces  of  coals.  In  its 
evaporation  it  swells  into  two  hundred  and  sixteen  gallons  of  steam, 
with  a  mechanical  force  sufficient  to  raise  a  weight  of  thirty-seven 
tons  a  foot  high.  The  steam  thus  produced  has  a  pressure  equal  to 
that  of  common  atmospheric  air ;  and  by  allowing  it  to  expand  by 
virtue  of  its  elasticity,  a  further  mechanical  force  may  be  obtained 
at  least  equal  in  amount  to  the  former.  A  pint  of  water,  therefore, 
and  two  ounces  of  common  coal,  are  thus  rendered  capable  of  doing 
as  much  work  as  is  equivalent  to  seventy-four  tons  raised  a  foot  high. 

"The  circumstances  under  which  the  steam-engine  is  worked  on  a 
railway  are  not  favorable  to  the  economy  of  fuel;  nevertheless,  a 
pound  of  coke  burned  in  a  locomotive-engine  will  evaporate  about 
five  pints  of  water.  In  their  evaporation,  they  will  exert  a  mechanical 
force  sufficient  to  draw  two  tons  weight  on  the  railway  a  distance  of 
one  mile  in  two  minutes.  Four  horses,  working  in  a  stage-coach  on  a 
common  road,  are  necessary  to  draw  the  same  weight  the  same  dis- 
tance in  six  minutes. 

"  A  train  of  cars,  weighing  about  eighty  tons,  and  transporting  240 
passengers  with  their  luggage,  has  been  taken  from  Liverpool  to 
Birmingham,  and  thence  back  to  Liverpool,  the  trip  each  way  taking 
about  four  and  a  half  hours,  stoppages  included — the  distance  being 
95  miles.  This  double  journey  of  190  miles  is  effected  by  the 
mechanical  force  produced  from  the  combustion  of  four  tons  of  coke, 
valued  at  about  5/.  To  carry,  in  England,  the  same  number  of  pas- 
sengers daily  between  the  same  places,  by  stage  coaches,  would  require 
20  vehicles  and  an  establishment  of  3,800  horses,  with  which  the 
journey  would  be  performed  both  ways  in  about  twelve  hours,  stop- 
pages included. 

"The  circumference  of  the  earth  measures  2,500  miles;  and  if  it 
were  begirt  with  an  iron  railway,  such  a  train  as  that  described  car- 
rying 240  passengers  would  be  drawn  round  it  by  the  combustion  of 
about  thirty  tons  of  coke,  and  the  circuit  would  be  accomplished  in 
five  weeks." 

Capt.  Savery  contrived  his  engine,  in  1698,  .with  especial  reference 
to  the  drainage  by  pumping  of  the  deep  mines  of  England,  and  it 
was  used  mainly  for  this  purpose.  Indeed,  it  is  necessary  to  recollect 
that,  notwithstanding  the  extensive  and  various  applications  of  steam- 
power  in  the  arts  and  manufactures,  up  to  the  time  when  Watt  got  his 
patent  extended  in  1775,  the  steam-engine  had  never  been  employed 
for  any  other  purpose  than  that  of  raising  water  by  working  pumps. 

The  water  of  streams  was  used  over  and  again,  in  the  manufacturing 


222  THE     STEAM-ENGINE. 

districts  of  England,  by  being  pumped  up,  and  thus  re-supplied  to 
water-wheels  driving  machinery.  The  motion  required,  therefore, 
was  merely  an  upward  force,  such  as  is  necessary  to  elevate  the  piston 
of  a  pump. 

"  In  the  drainage  of  the  Cornish  mines  now,  the  economy  of  fuel 
is  much  attended  to,  and  coal  is  made  to  do  more  there  than  else- 
where. A  bushel  of  coal  usually  raises  40,000  tons  of  water  a  foot 
high ;  but  on  some  occasions  it  has  raised  60,000  tons  a  foot  high. 
Let  us  take  its  labor  at  50,000  tons.  A  horse,  worked  in  a  fast  stage- 
coach, pulls  against  an  average  resistance  of  about  a  quarter  of  a  ton 
weight.  Against  this  he  is  able  to  work  at  the  usual  speed  through 
about  8  miles  daily;  his  work  is,  therefore,  equivalent  to  about  five 
hundred  tons  raised  one  foot.  A  bushel  of  coals,  as  used  in  Corn- 
wall, therefore,  performs  as  much  labor  as  a  day's  work  of  one  hun- 
dred such  horses." 

"  When  steam-engines  were  first  brought  into  use,  they  were  com- 
monly applied  to  work  pumps  for  mills,  which  had  previously  been 
worked  or  driven  by  horses.  In  forming  their  contracts,  the  first 
steam-engine  builders  found  themselves  called  upon  to  supply  engines 
for  executing  the  same  work  as  before  had  been  executed  by  some 
certain  number  of  horses.  It  was,  therefore,  convenient,  and  indeed 
necessary,  to  be  able  to  express  the  performance  of  these  machines 
by  comparison  with  the  animal  power  to  which  manufacturers,  miners, 
and  others,  had  been  so  long  accustomed.  When  an  engine,  there- 
fore, was  capable  of  performing  the  same  work,  in  a  given  time,  as 
any  given  number  of  horses  of  average  strength  usually  performed,  it 
was  said  to  be  an  engine  of  so  many  horses'  power.  It  was,  how- 
ever, a  considerable  period  before  this  term  came  to  have  a  definite 
meaning.  Mr.  Smeaton  estimated  that  a  horse  of  average  strength, 
working  for  eight  hours  a  day,  was  capable  of  performing  a  quantity 
of  work  equal  in  its  mechanical  effect  to  22,916  tons  raised  one 
foot  per  minute,  while  Desaguliers  estimated  the  same  power  at  27,500 
tons.  The  difference  between  these  estimates  probably  arose  from 
their  being  made  from  the  performances  of  different  classes  of 
horses." 

"Messrs.  Boulton  and  Watt  caused  experiments  to  be  made  with 
the  strong  horses  used  in  the  breweries  in  London,  and  from  the  re- 
sults of  these  trials  they  assigned  33,000  pounds,  raised  one  foot  per 
minute,  as  the  value  of  a  horse's  power.  This  is  the  unit  of  engine 
power  now  universally  adopted.  The  steam-engine  is  no  longer  used 
to  replace  the  power  of  horses,  and,  therefore,  no  contracts  are  based 
upon  this  comparison.  The  term  horse-power,  then,  means  simply 
the  ability  of  the  engine  to  move  33,000  pounds  through  one  foot 
per  minute." 

"  The  conversion  of  a  given  volume  of  water  into  steam  is  produc- 
tive of  a  certain  definite  amount  of  mechanical  force,  this  amount 
depending  on  the  pressure  under  which  this  water  is  evaporated,  and 


COAL     CONSUMED. 


223 


the  extent  to  which  the  expansive  principle  is  used  in  working  the 
steam.  It  is  evident  that  this  amount  of  mechanical  effect  is  a  major 
limit,  which  can  not  be  exceeded  by  the  power  of  the  engine. 

"What  is  known  as  the  duty  or  service  of  engines  varies  according 
to  their  form  and  magnitude,  the  circumstances  under  which  they 
are  worked,  and  the  purposes  to  which  they  are  applied.  In  double- 
acting  engines,  working  without  expansion,  the  coal  consumed  per 
nominal  horse-power  per  hour  varies  from  7  to  i2lbs.  An  examina- 
tion of  the  steam-logs  of  several  government  steamers,  made  a  few 
years  since,  gave  as  the  average  consumption  of  fuel  at  that  time  of 
the  best  class  of  marine  engines,  about  8  Ibs.  per  nominal  horse-power 
per  hour.  Out  of  fifteen  atmospheric  engines  working  at  Newcastle- 
on-Tyne,  in  1769 — the  date  of  Watt's  earliest  discoveries — the  yearly 
duty  of  the  poorest  was  shown  to  be  3,220,000  Ibs.,  and  of  the  best 
7, 440,000 Ibs.  In  1772,  Smeaton  began  his  improvements  on  the  atmos- 
pheric-engine, and  raised  the  duty  to  9,450,000,  but  when  Watt,  in 
1776,  had  obtained  a  duty  of  21,600,000,  Smeaton  acknowledged 
that  Watt's  engines  gave  a  duty  double  that  of  his  own.  From  1779 
to  1798,  Watt  increased  that  of  his  engines  from  23,400,000  to  27,- 
000,000.  The  engine  which  accomplished  the  last  was  under  the 
care  of  Mr.  Murdock,  at  Cornwall,  and  was  by  Mr.  Watt  pronounced 
perfect.  [Mr.  Murdock  will  be  remembered  as  the  ingenious  producer 
of  a  model  locomotive  heated  by  a  spirit-lamp,  which  so  frightened 
the  village  parson  upon  a  dark  evening,  as  it  moved  rapidly  down 
upon  him  on  the  side  walk.]  Mr.  Watt  thought  further  improvement 
in  the  duty  of  his  steam-engine  could  not  be  expected-.  Yet  in 
twenty  years  afterward  the  best  engine  had  attained  to  an  average 
duty  of  40,000,000  Ibs.,  and  in  forty  years  it  was  about  84,000,000  Ibs. 
per  year.  How  impossible,  then,  for  even  the  most  sagacious  to  fore- 
see the  results  of  mechanical  improvement." 

We  now  revert  again  to  fuel,  or  the  food  of  what  the  men  of  the 
Newcastle  collieries  originally  called  the  "Iron  Horse."  For  this 
home  of  the  Stephensons,  near  the  close  of  the  thirteenth  century 
Henry  III.  gave  a  charter,  granting  license  to  the  burgesses  of 
Newcastle  to  dig  for  coal.  In  1281 — just  five  hundred  years  be- 
fore George  Stephenson  was  born,  at  Wylam  Colliery — Newcastle 
is  said  to  have  had  a  considerable  trade  in  this  article,  and  about 
this  time  the  use  of  coal  had  commenced  in  London,  by  smiths, 
brewers,  dyers,  soap-boilers,  etc.  A  notion  got  abroad  that  the 
smoke  was  highly  injurious  to  the  public,  and  in  1316,  on  petition 
of  Parliament  his  majesty  Edward  I.  issued  a  proclamation  prohibit- 
ing its  use,  on  the  ground  of  its  being  an  intolerable  nuisance. 
Notwithstanding  this,  and  the  fact  that  more  rigorous  means  were 
resorted  to,  its  use  continued  progressively  to  gain  ground.  Since  the 
reign  of  Charles  I.,  the  use  of  coal  in  London  has  been  universal,  to 
the  exclusion  of  nearly  all  other  articles  of  fuel.  The  coals  of 
Britain  are  almost  wholly  bituminous,  similar  to  the  coals  taken  out 


224  THE    STEAM-ENGINE. 

of  the  Western  Alleghanies  and  generally  mined  in  the  Mississippi 
Valley.  The  Anthracite  Coal,  of  Pennsylvania,  is  nearly  pure  carbon, 
igniting  with  some  difficulty,  and  giving  out  intense  heat  during  com- 
bustion. It  is  almost  exclusively  used  in  the  cities  and  towns  of  the 
Northern  Atlantic  States,  and  wherever  wood  is  not  cheaper,  in  that 
part  of  the  Union.  Its  adaptation  for  use  in  blast  furnaces  makes  it 
immensely  valuable  to  the  great  home  interest  in  iron,  of  the  Key- 
stone State ;  and  it  yields  a  rich  revenue  to  her  citizens  from  the  de- 
mand for  it  in  the  large  manufacturing  and  commercial  districts  of 
the  Eastern  States,  "while  it  is  in  growing  request  wherever  in  the 
South  and  West  a  cleaner  fuel  is  preferred  to  the  smoky  and  sooty 
coals  of  the  great  central  valley.  Strangely  enough,  it  was  scarcely 
known  to  exist  in  this  country  fifty  years  ago,  and  now  the  tonnage 
engaged  in  transporting  it — to  a  minor  extent  by  the  old  canals — on 
the  railroads  of  the  East  is  of  enormous  magnitude,  as  will  appear 
from  the  reports  of  the  Philadelphia  and  Reading  Railroad,  the  Le- 
high  Valley,  the  Delaware  and  Lackawanna,  the  New  Jersey  Central, 
the  Pennsylvania  Central,  and  other  roads.  A  half  century  ago,  this 
coal,  as  discovered  in  Ireland,  and  in  South  Wales,  was  considered 
to  be  incombustible  refuse  and  was  thrown  away,  but  now  it  is  there 
thought  to  be  of  the  very  highest  value  for  furnace  purposes. 

In  this  running  and  brief  history  of  coal,  we  not  only  discover  the 
food  for  our  iron  horse  developed  from  the  great  store-houses  of  na- 
ture in  a  rapidly  increasing  measure,  just  as  the  creature  is  developed 
into  a  perfect  life,  but  we  also  discover  the  work  it  is  being  called 
upon  to  perform.  Its  family  is  growing  by  thousands  a  year,  while 
its  habitat,  the  railroads,  are  multiplying  in  endless  ratio.  The  iron 
steamers  of  the  sea,  too,  and  of  the  great  inland  routes  of  commerce, 
are,  and  are  to  be,  insatiable  in  their  demands  for  this  great  genera- 
tor of  strength  for  iron  arms  and  sinews.  Europeans,  if  not  Ameri- 
cans, are  demonstrating  that  iron  steam-ships  can  carry  much  cheaper 
than  sailing  vessels,  the  time  taken  for  trips  considered,  because  ves- 
sels propelled  by  steam  are  gradually  superseding  sailing  vessels.  It 
is  probable  that  coal  will  ere  long  be  included  among  those  articles 
that  are  reckoned  as  contraband  of  war.  Now  that  steam  is  destined 
to  play  an  important  part  in  naval  warfare,  the  coal  by  which  steam 
is  produced  is  certainly  entitled  to  a  prominent  place  among  muni- 
tions de  guerre. 

Nearly  all  the  coal  consumed  in  London  was  taken  there  by  coast- 
wise vessels  from  Newcastle  and  elsewhere  forty  years  ago  (1832), 
while  within  that  period  the  transportation  into  London,  by  railways- 
alone,  has  grown  to  be  equal  to  that  taken  by  vessels,  and  the  amount 
carried  by  the  latter  is  fifty  per  cent  in  excess  of  what  it  was  then ; 
mean-time,  its  average  price  has  not  increased  there.  In  this  no  mention 
is  made  of  the  tonnage  required  on  railways  for  distributing  coal  to 
the  manufacturing  and  other  districts  of  Britain.  Herein  may  be 
seen  outlines  of  a  future  traffic,  huge  in  proportions,  yet  to  be  ac- 


COAL     ITS     FOOD.  225 

quired  by  the  railroads  of  the  Western  States  of  the  Union,  not  to 
name  others. 

The  importation  into  the  United  States  of  what  has  been  for  many 
years  known  on  the  Atlantic  coast  as  "  Liverpool  coal"  has  always 
been  considerable;  so  late  as  1865  the  amount  was  134,000  tons;  an 
ugly  fact  in  view  of  our  greater  supplies.  The  productive  coal  measures 
of  the  United  States  exceed  those  of  all  the  rest  of  the  world,  as  at 
present  known,  and  the  greatest  fields  of  coal  in  the  Union  are  in  the 
districts  of  the  Mississippi  Valley,  already  pointed  out. 

Coal  for  most  purposes  is  much  better  than  wood ;  but,  in 
fact,  the  two,  although  in  appearance  so  different,  are,  in  their 
ultimate  composition,  very  nearly  allied.  They  both  have  for 
their  basis  or  chief  ingredient  the  substance  called  by  the  chemists 
carbon,  and  their  chief  other  ingredient,  the  substance  called  hydrogen, 
which,  when  separated,  exists  in  the  form  of  gas.  The  hydrogen  is 
easily  driven  away  or  volatilized  from  either  coal  or  wood,  by  heat- 
ing in  a  close  place ;  and  when  it  is  caught  and  preserved,  it  forms 
the  gas  now  used  to  light  the  streets  and  buildings  of  our  cities  and 
larger  towns.  What  remains  of  coal  after  being  so  treated  is  the  sub- 
stance called  coke,  referred  to  in  this  article  as  used  in  running  loco- 
motives on  the  English  railways  ;  and  what  remains  of  wood,  similarly 
treated,  is  the  substance  called  charcoal ;  both  being  nearly  pure  car- 
bon, but  differing  as  to  the  states  of  compactness.  This  kindred 
nature  of  coal  and  wood  does  not  surprise  us  when  the  fact  is  known 
that  much  of  our  coal  is  really  transformed  wood  ;  many  coal-mines 
being  evidently  the  remains  of  antediluvian  forests,  swept  together  in 
the  course  of  terrestrial  changes,  and  afterward  solidified  to  the  state 
now  seen.  The  species  of  the  plants  or  trees  which  formed  them  are 
often  quite  apparent.  The  extensive  beds  of  peat  moss  or  turf,  now 
existing  on  the  surface  of  the  earth  consist  chiefly  of  vegetable  remains 
in  an  early  stage  of  change,  which  finally  terminates  in  the  formation 
of  coal. 

The  phenomenon  of  common  fire  or  combustion  is  merely  the  fuel 
being  chemically  dissolved  in  the  air  of  the  atmosphere.  If  the  fuel 
has  nothing  volatile  in  it,  as  is  true  of  pure  carbon,  and  nearly  true 
of  coke  and  charcoal,  it  burns  with  the  appearance  of  red-hot  stones ; 
but  if  there  be  an  ingredient,  as  hydrogen,  which  on  being  heated, 
readily  assumes  the  form  of  air,  that  ingredient  dilates  before  burning, 
and  in  the  act  produces  the  more  bulky  incandescence  called  flame. 

The  two  great  purposes  which  combustion  serves  to  man  are  to 
give  light  and  heat.  By  the  former  he  may  be  said  to  lengthen  con- 
siderably the  duration  of  his  natural  existence;  for  he  converts  a 
portion  of  the  almost  useless  night  into  what,  for  many  ends,  serves 
him  as  well  as  day ;  and  by  the  latter,  besides  converting  winter 
into  any  climate — within  doors — which  he  desires,  he  is  enabled 
to  effect  most  important  mutations  in  many  of  the  substances 
which  nature  offers  for  his  use;  and  since  the  invention  of 

'5 


226  THE     STEAM-ENGINE. 

the  steam-engine,  he  makes  heat  perform  a  great  and  constantly 
increasing  proportion  of  the  work  of  society.  From  these  considera- 
tions may  be  perceived  the  importance  of  having  fire  at  command  ; 
and  as  the  cheapest  means  of  commanding-fire,  of  having  abundance 
of  coal.  By  it  our  dwellings  are  lighted  and  heated,  and  thus  made 
more  comfortable ;  with  it  the  steam-engine  may  be  fed,  labor 
lifted  from  our  shoulders  and  taken  from  our  hands,  and  we  may 
be  enabled  comfortably  to  go  with  railroad  and  steamer  speed  to 
the  ends  of  the  earth. 

From  an  admirable  article  by  Robert  Hunt,  F.  R.  S.,  we  make  the 
following  extract  on 

"COAL   AS  A   RESERVOIR   OF   POWER." 

"The  sun,  according  to  the  philosophy  of  the  day,  is  the  great 
store-house  of  Force.  All  the  grand  natural  phenomena  are  directly 
dependent  upon  the  influence  of  energies  which  are  poured  forth  with- 
out intermission  from  the  central  star  of  our  system.  Under  the  in- 
fluences of  light,  heat,  actinism,  and  electricity,  plants  and  animals 
are  produced,  live,  and  grow,  in  all  their  infinite  variety.  Those 
physical  powers,  or,  as  they  were  formerly  called,  those  imponderable 
elements,  have  their  origin  in  one  or  other  of  those  mysterious  zones 
which  envelop  the  orb  of  day,  and  become  evident  to  us  only  when 
mighty  cyclones  break  them  up  into  dark  spots.  Is  it  possible  to 
account  for  the  enormous  amount  of  energy  which  is  constantly  being 
developed  in  the  sun  ?  This  question  may  be  answered  by  saying 
that  chemical  changes  of  the  most  intense  activity  are  discovered  to 
be  forever  progressing,  and  that  to  these  changes  we  owe  the  develop- 
ment of  all  the  physical  powers  with  which  we  are  acquainted.  In 
our  laboratory  we  establish,  by  mechanical  disturbance,  some  chemi- 
cal phenomenon,  which  becomes  evident  to  our  senses  by  the  heat 
and  light  which  are  developed,  and  we  find  associated  with  them  the 
principle  which  can  set  up  chemical  change  and  promote  electrical 
manifestations.  We  have  produced  combustion,  say,  of  a  metal,  or 
of  a  metallic  compound,  and  we  have  a  flame  of  a  color  which  belongs 
especially  to  the  substance  which  is  being  consumed.  We  examine  a 
ray  of  light  produced  by  that  flame  by  passing  it  through  a  prism, 
and  this  analysis  informs  us  that  colored  bands,  having  a  fixed  angle 
of  refraction,  are  constant  for  that  especial  metal.  Beyond  this,  re- 
search acquaints  us  with  the  fact  that,  if  the  ray  of  light  is  made  to 
pass  through  the  vapor  of  the  substance  which  gives  color  to  the 
flame,  the  lines  of  the  spectrum  which  were  chromatic  become  dark 
and  colorless.  We  trap  a  ray  of  sunlight,  and  we  refract  it  by  means 
of  a  spectroscope — an  instrument  giving  results  which  we  already 
have  seen  described* — when  we  detect  the  same  lines  as  those  which 
we  have  discovered  in  our  artificial  flame.  We  pursue  this  very  in- 

*  Popular  Science  Review,  vol.  i.,  pp.  210-214. 


SUNSHINE     AND    COAL-BEDS.  227 

teresting  discovery,  and  we  find  that  several  metals  which  give  color 
to  flame,   and   produce    certain  lines,  when   subjected  to  spectrum 
analysis,  are  to  be  detected  in  the  rays  of  the   sun.      Therefore  our 
inference  is,  that  some   substances,  similar  to  the  terrestrial  bodies, 
with  which  we  are  familiar,  are  actually  undergoing  a  change  in  the 
sun,  analogous  to  those  changes  which  we  call  combustion  ;  and,  more 
than  this,  we  argue  that  the  high  probability  is,  that  all  solar  energies 
are  developed   under  those  conditions  of  chemical  change — that,  in 
fact,  the  sun  is  burning,  and  while  solar  matter  is  changing  its  form, 
Force  is  rendered  active,  and  as  ray-power  passes  off  into  space   as 
light,  heat,  etc.,  to  do  its  work  upon  distant  worlds,  and  these  forms 
of  Force  are  expended  in  doing  the  work  of  development   on  those 
worlds.      This    idea — theory — call   it  what    you  may — involves    of 
necessity  the  waste  of  energy  in  the  sun,   and  we   must  concede  the 
possibility  of  the  blazing  sun's  gigantic  mass  becoming  eventually 
a  globe  of  dead  ashes,  unless  we  can  comprehend  some  method  by 
which  energy  can  be  again  restored  to  the  inert  matter.     Certain  it  is 
that  the  sun  has  been  shining  thousands  of  years,  and  its  influence  on 
this  earth  we  know  to  have  been  the  production  of  organized  masses, 
absorbing  the  radiant  energies,  in  volumes  capable  of  measurement. 
On  this  earth,  for  every  equivalent  of  heat  developed,  a  fixed  equiva- 
lent of  matter  has  changed  its  form  ;  and  so  likewise  is  it  with  regard 
to  the  other  forces.     On  the  sun,  in  like  manner,  every  cubic  mile  of 
sunshine  represents  the  change  of  form  of  an  equivalent  of  solar  mat- 
ter, and  that  equivalent  of  matter  is  no  longer  capable  of  supplying 
Force,  unless  by  some  conditions,  beyond  our  grasp  at  present,   it 
takes  up  again  that  which  it   has  lost.     That  something  of  this  kind 
must  take  place  is  certain.     The  sun  is  not  burning  out.     After  the 
lapse  of  thousands  of  years  we  have  the  most  incontrovertible  evidence 
that  the  light  of  to-day  is  no  less  brilliant  now  than  it  was  when  man 
walked  amid  the  groves  of  Eden.     We  may  venture  farther  back  into 
the  arcana  of  time,  and  say  that  the  sun  of  the  past  summer  (1872)  has 
shone  with  splendor  equal   to  the  radiant  power  which,  myriads  of 
ages  ere  yet  man  appeared  on  this  planet,  stimulated  the  growth  of 
those  luxuriant  forests  which  perished  to  form  those  vast  beds  from 
which  we  derive  our  coal.     Not  a  ray  the  less  is  poured  out  in  any 
hour  of  sunshine  ;  not  a  grain-weight  of  matter  is  lost  from  the  mass 
of  the  sun.     If  either  the  sunshine  were  weakened,  or  the  weight  of 
the  vast  globe  diminished,  the  planets  would  vary  in  their  physical 
conditions,  and  their  orbits  would  be  changed.     There  is  no  evidence 
that  either  the  one  or  the  other  has  resulted.     Let  us  see  if  we  can 
guess  at  any  process   by  which  this  stability  of  the   solar  system  is 
maintained. 

It  was  first  shown  by  Faraday,  in  a  series  of  experimental  investi- 
gations which  may  be  regarded  as  the  most  beautiful  example  of  in- 
ductive science  with  which  the  world  has  been  favored  since  Bacon 
promulgated  his  new  philosophy,  that  the  quantity  of  electricity  con- 


228  THE    STEAM-ENGINE. 

tained  in  a  body  was  exactly  the  quantity  which  was  necessary  to 
decompose  that  body.  For  example,  in  a  voltaic  battery — of  zinc  and 
copper  plates — a  certain  fixed  quantity  of  electricity  is  eliminated  by 
the  oxidation  of  a  portion  of  the  zinc.  If,  to  produce  this  effect,  the 
oxygen  of  a  given  measure  of  water — say  a  drop — is  necessary,  the 
electricity  developed  will  be  exactly  that  which  is  required  to  separate 
the  gaseous  elements  of  a  drop  of  water  from  each  other.  An  equiva- 
lent of  electricity  is  developed  by  the  oxidation  of  an  equivalent  of 
zinc,  and  that  electricity  is  required  for  the  decomposition  of  an 
equivalent  of  water,  or  the  same  quantity  of  electricity  would  be 
equal  to  the  power  of  effecting  the  re-combination  of  oxygen  and  hy- 
drogen, into  an  equivalent  of  water.  The  law  which  has  been  so 
perfectly  established  for  electricity  is  found  to  be  true  of  the  other  phys- 
ical forces.  By  the  combustion — which  is  a  condition  of  oxidation — 
of  an  equivalent  of  carbon,  or  of  any  body  susceptible  of  this  change 
of  state,  exact  volumes  of  light  and  heat  are  liberated.  It  is  theo- 
retically certain  that  these  equivalents  of  light  and  heat  are  exactly 
the  quantities  necessary  for  the  formation  of  the  substance  from  which 
those  energies  have  been  derived.  That  which  takes  place  in  terres- 
trial phenomena  is,  it  is  highly  probable,  constantly  taking  place  in 
solar  phenomena.  Chemical  changes,  or  disturbances  analogous  to 
them,  of  vast  energy,  are  constantly  progressing  in  the  sun,  and  thus 
is  maintained  that  unceasing  outpour  of  sunshine  which  gladdens  the 
earth,  and  illumines  all  the  planets  of  our  system.  Every  solar  ray  is 
a  bundle  of  powerful  forces ;  light,  the  luminous  life-maintaining 
energy,  giving  color  to  all  things ;  heat,  the  calorific  power  which 
determines  the  conditions  of  all  terrestrial  matter;  actinism,  peculiarly 
the  force  which  produces  all  photographic  phenomena;  and  electricity 
regulating  the  magnetic  conditions  of  this  globe.  Combined  in  action, 
these  solar  radiations  carry  out  the  conditions  necessary  to  animal 
and  vegetable  organization,  in  all  their  varieties,  and  create  out  of  a 
chaotic  mass  forms  of  beauty  rejoicing  in  life. 

To  confine  our  attention  to  the  one  subject  before  us.  Every  per- 
son knows  that,  to  grow  a  tree  or  shrub  healthfully,  it  must  have 
plenty  of  sunshine.  In  the  dark  we  may  force  a  plant  to  grow,  but  it 
forms  no  woody  matter,  it  acquires  no  color ;  even  in  shade  it  grows 
slowly  and  weak.  In  sunshine  it  glows  with  color,  and  its  frame  is 
strengthened  by  the  deposition  of  woody  matter  eliminated  from  the 
carbonic  acid  of  the  air  in  which  it  grows.  A  momentary  digression 
will  make  one  point  here  more  clear.  Men  and  animals  live  by  con- 
suming the  products  of  the  vegetable  world.  The  process  of  support- 
ing life  by  food  is  essentially  one  of  combustion.  The  food  is  burnt 
in  the  system,  developing  that  heat  which  is  necessary  for  life,  and 
the  living  animal  rejects,  with  every  expiration,  the  combinations, 
principally  carbonic  acid,  which  result  from  this  combustion.  This 
carbonic  acid  is  inhaled  by  the  plant ;  and,  by  its  vital  power,  excited 
by  sunshine,  it  is  decomposed ;  the  carbon  forms  the  ligneous  structure 


HOW    WOOD     AND    COAL    ARE      DEVELOPED.         229 

of  the  plant,  and  the  oxygen  is  liberated  to  renew  the  healthful  con- 
dition of  the  atmosphere.  Here  we  see  a  sequence  of  changes  analo- 
gous to  those  which  have  been  shown  to  be  a  law  of  electricity. 

Every  equivalent  of  matter  changing  form  in  the  sun  sends  forth 
a  measured  volume  of  sunshine,  charged  with  the  organizing  powers 
as  potential  energies.  These  meet  with  the  terrestrial  matter  which 
has  the  function  of  living,  and  they  expend  themselves  in  the  labor 
of  producing  a  quantity  of  wood,  which  represents  the  equivalent 
of  matter  which  has  changed  form  in  the  sun.  The  light,  heat, 
chemical  and  electrical  power  of  the  sunshine  have  produced  a  certain 
quantity  of  wood,  and  these  physical  energies  have  been  absorbed — 
used  up — in  the  production  of  that  quantity.  Now,  we  learn  that  a 
cube  of  wood  is  the  result  of  a  fixed  measure  of  sunshine ;  common 
experience  teaches  us  that,  if  we  ignite  that  wood,  it  gives  out,  in 
burning,  light  and  heat ;  while  a  little  examination  proves  the  presence 
of  actinism  and  electricity  in  its  flame.  Philosophy  teaches  us  that 
the  powers  set  free  in  the  burning  of  that  cube  of  wood  are  exactly 
those  which  were  required  for  its  growth,  and  that,  for  the  production 
of  it,  a  definite  equivalent  of  matter  changed  its  form  on  a  globe 
ninety  millions  of  miles  distant  from  us. 

Myriads  of  ages  before  man  appeared — the  monarch  of  this  world — 
the  sun  was  doing  its  work.  Vast  forests  grew,  as  they  now  grow, 
especially  in  the  wide-spread  swamps  of  the  tropics,  and,  decaying, 
gathered  into  thick  mats  of  humus-like  substance.  Those  who  have 
studied  all  the  conditions  of  a  peat-morass,  will  remember  how  the 
ligneous  matter  loses  its  woody  structure  in  depth — depth  here  rep- 
resenting time — and  how  at  the  bottom  a  bituminous  or  coaly  matter 
is  not  unfrequently  formed.  Some  such  process  as  this,  continued 
through  long  ages,  at  length  produced  those  extensive  beds  6f  coal 
which  are  so  distinguishingly  a  feature  of  the  British  and  American 
coal-fields.  At  a  period  in  geological  time,  when  an  Old  Red  Sand- 
stone land  was  washed  by  ocean  waves  highly  charged  with  carbonic 
acid,  in  which  existed  multitudinous  animals,  whose  work  in  Nature 
was  to  aid  in  the  building  up  masses  of  limestone-rock,  there  prevailed 
a  teeming  vegetation  from  which  have  been  derived  all  the  coal-beds 
of  the  British  Isles.  Our  space  will  not  allow  of  any  inquiry  into 
the  immensity  of  time  required  for  the  growth  of  the  forests  necessary 
for  the  production  of  even  a  single  seam  of  coal.  Suffice  it  to  say 
that,  within  one  coal-field,  we  may  discover  coal-beds  to  the  depth 
of  6,000  feet  from  the  present  surface.  The  section  of  such  a  coal- 
field will  show  us  coal  and  sandstone,  or  shale,  alternating  again  and 
again — a  yard  or  two  of  coal  and  hundreds  of  feet  of  shale  or  sand- 
stone— until  we  come  to  the  present  surface,  every  one  of  those  deeply- 
buried  coal-beds  having  been  at  one  time  a  forest,  growing  under  the 
full  power  of  a  brilliant  sun,  the  result  of  solar  forces,  produced  then, 
as  now,  by  chemical  phenomena  taking  place  in  the  sun  itself.  Every 
cubic  yard  of  coal  in  every  coal-bed  is  the  result  of  a  very  slow,  but 


230  THE     STEAM-ENGINE. 

constant,  change  of  a  mass  of  vegetable  matter ;  that  change  being 
analogous  to  the  process  of  rotting  in  a  large  heap  of  succulent 
plants.  The  change  has  been  so  slow,  and  continued  under  a  con- 
stantly-increasing pressure,  that  but  few  of  the  gaseous  constituents 
have  escaped,  and  nearly  all  those  physical  forces  which  were  used  in 
the  task  of  producing  the  woody  matter 'of  the  plant  have  been  held 
prisoners  in  the  vegetable  matter  which  constitutes  coal.  How  vast, 
then,  must  be  the  store  of  power  which  is  preserved  in  the  coal  de- 
posits of  these  islands  ! 

We  are  now  raising  from  our  coal-pits  nearly  one  hundred  and  ten 
millions  of  tons  of  coal  annually.  Of  this  quantity  we  are  exporting 
to  our  colonial  possessions  and  foreign  parts  about  ten  million  tons, 
reserving  nearly  a  hundred  million  tons  of  coal  for  our  home  con- 
sumption. Not  many  less  than  one  hundred  thousand  steam-boilers 
are  in  constant  use  in  these  islands,  producing  steam — to  blow  the 
blast  for  smelting  the  iron  ore  ;  to  urge  the  mills  for  rolling,  crushing, 
and  cutting  with  giant  power  ;  to  twirl  the  spindle,  and  to  urge  the 
shuttle.  For  every  purpose,  from  rolling  cyclopean  masses  of  metal 
into  form  to  weaving  silky  textures  of  the  most  filmy  fineness,  steam 
is  used,  and  this  steam  is  an  exact  representative  of  the  coal  employed, 
a  large  allowance  being  made  for  the  imperfections  of  human  machin- 
ery. This  requires  a  little  explanation.  Coal  is  a  compound  of 
carbon,  hydrogen,  oxygen,  and  nitrogen,  the  last  two  elements  exist- 
ing in  quantities  so  small,  as  compared  with  the  carbon,  that  they 
may  be  rejected  from  our  consideration.  The  heat  which  we  obtain 
in  burning  the  coal  is  almost  all  derived  from  the  carbon ;  the  hy- 
drogen in  burning  produces  some  heat,  but  for  our  purpose  it  is  suffi- 
cient to  confine  attention  to  the  carbon  only. 

Onevpound  of  pure  coal  yields,  in  combining  with  oxygen  in  com- 
bustion, theoretically ',  an  energy  equal  to  the  power  of  lifting  10,808,- 
ooo  pounds  one  foot  high.  The  quantity  of  heat  necessary  to  raise 
a  pound  of  water  one  degree  will  raise  772  pounds  one  foot.  A 
pound  of  coal  burning  should  yield  14,000  units  of  heat,  or  772X14.- 
000=10,808,000  pounds,  as  above.  Such  is  the  theoretical  value  of 
a  pound  of  pure  coal.  Many  of  our  coal-seams  are  about  a  yard  in 
thickness ;  several  important  seams  are  much  thicker  than  this,  and 
one  well-known  seam,  the  thick  coal  of  South  Staffordshire,  is  ten 
yards  in  thickness.  This,  however,  concerns  us  no  further  than  that 
it  is  useful  in  conveying  to  the  mind  some  idea  of  the  enormous  re- 
servoir of  power  which  is  buried  in  our  coal  formations.  One  square 
yard  of  coal  from  a  yard-thick  seam — that  is,  in  fact,  a  cubic  yard  of 
coal — weighs  about  2,240  pounds  avoirdupois;  the  reserved  energy 
in  that  cube  of  coal  is  equal  to  lifting  1,729,200  pounds  one  foot 
high.  We  are  raising  every  year  about  110,000,000  tons  of  coal  from 
our  coal-beds,  each  ton  of  coal  being  about  a  square  yard.  The  heat 
of  that  coal  is  equal  to  a  mechanical  lifting  power  which  it  is  scarcely 
possible  to  convey  to  the  mind  in  any  thing  approaching  to  its  reality. 


COAL     AS     A     RESERVOIR     OF     POWER.  231 

If  we  say  it  is  190,212,000  millions  we  merely  state  an  incomprehen- 
sible number.  We  may  do  something  more  than  this,  if  we  can  con- 
vey some  idea  of  the  magnitude  of  the  mass  of  coal  which  is  raised 
annually  in  these  islands. 

The  diameter  of  this  globe  is  7,926  miles,  or  13,880,760  yards; 
therefore  the  coal  raised  in  1870  would  make  a  solid  bar  more  than 
eight  yards  wide  and  one  yard  thick,  which  would  pass  from  east  to 
west  through  the  earth  at  the  equator.  Supposing  such  a  mass  to  be 
in  a  state  of  ignition,  we  can  perhaps  imagine  the  intensity  of  its  heat, 
and  its  capability,  if  employed  in  converting  water  into  steam,  of  ex- 
erting the  vast  force  which  we  have  endeavored  to  indicate.  It  was 
intimated  last  year  in  the  House  of  Commons,  by  a  member  of  the 
coal  commission,  that  the  decision  of  that  body,  after  a  long  and 
laborious  inquiry,  would  be  that  there  existed  in  our  coal-fields  a 
supply  for  about  one  thousand  years  at  our  present  rate  of  consump- 
tion. We  have  therefore  to  multiply  the  above  computation  by  1,000 
to  arrive  at  any  idea  of  the  reserved  power  of  our  British  coal-fields. 
What  must  it  have  been  ere  yet  our  coal  deposits  were  disturbed !  At 
the  time  of  the  Roman  occupation  coal  was  used  in  this  country.  In 
the  ruins  of  Roman  Uriconium  coal  has  been  found.  Certainly  up 
to  the  present  time  a  quantity  of  not  less  than  three  thousand  million 
tons  of  coal  has  been  dug  out  of  our  carboniferous  deposits  and  con- 
sumed. All  this  enormous  mass  of  matter  has  been  'derived  from 
vegetable  organizations  which  have  been  built  up  by  sunshine.  The 
sun-rays  which  compelled  the  plants  to  grow  were  used  by  the  plant, 
absorbed,  imprisoned  in  the  cells,  and  held  there  as  an  essential  in- 
gredient of  the  woody  matter.  The  heat,  light,  actinism,  and  elec- 
tricity, which  are  developed  when  we  burn  a  lump  of  coal,  represent 
exactly  the  quantity  of  those  forces  which  were  necessary  to  the 
growth  of  the  vegetable  matter  from  which  that  coal  was  formed. 
The  sunshine  of  infinitely  remote  ages  becomes  the  useful  power  of 
the  present  day. 

Let  it  not,  however,  be  supposed  that  we  employ  all  the  heat 
which  is  available  in  our  coal.  All  our  appliances,  even  the  very 
best,  are  so  defective  that  we  lose  far  more  than  we  use.  A  pound 
of  pure  coal  should  evaporate  thirteen  pounds  of  water ;  in  practice 
a  pound  of  coal  does  not  evaporate  four  pounds,  even  in  the  most 
perfectly-constructed  steam-boilers,  with  the  most  complete  steam- 
engines,  such  as  have  been  constructed  for  pumping  water  for  the 
Chelsea  and  the  other  water-works  upon  the  Thames. 

Numerous  attempts  have  been  made  to  burn  our  coal  so  as  to  se- 
cure a  more  effective  result  than  this.  Still,  with  the  best  we  allow 
more  than  one-half  of  the  heat  latent  in  the  coal  to  escape  us. 
The  subtle  element  eludes  our  grasp — our  charms  are  powerless  to 
chain  the  sprite ;  he  will  not  be  bound  to  labor  for  us,  but  passes 
off  into  space,  regardless  of  the  human  Prospero,  whose  wand  of 
science  he  derides. 


232  THE     STEAM-ENGINE. 

In  conclusion,  our  philosophy  has  enabled  us  to  determine  the  heat- 
value  of  our  coal-fields,  and  to  prove  that  all  this  heat  has  a  solar 
origin.  Our  science  has  shown  us  that,  although  we  can  eliminate 
all  this  heat,  we  can  not  use  it.  There  is  an  immense  quantity  con- 
stantly passing  into  space  as  radiant  heat  which  we  can  not  retain. 

The  circle  of  action  between  the  vegetable  and  the  animal  world 
is  a  beautiful  and  a  remarkable  provision.  The  animal  burns  carbon 
and  sends  into  the  air  carbonic  acid  (a  compound  of  carbon  and 
oxygen);  the  vegetable  breathes  that  carbonic  acid  and  decomposes 
it ;  the  carbon  is  retained  and  the  oxygen  liberated  in  purity,  to  main- 
tain the  life  and  fire-supporting  principle  of  the  atmosphere.  Changes 
similar  to  these  may  be  constantly  going  forward  in  the  sun,  and  pro- 
ducing those  radiations  which  are  poured  forth  in  volumes,  far  beyond 
the  requirements  of  all  the  planets  of  our  system.  Although  there  is 
probably  some  circle  of  action  analogous  to  that  which  exists  upon 
this  earth,  maintaining  the  permanency  of  the  vegetable  and  animal 
world,  still  there  must  be  a  waste  of  energy,  which  must  be  resupplied 
to  the  sun. 

May  it  not  be  that  Sir  Isaac  Newton's  idea — that  the  comets  trav- 
ersing space  gather  up  the  waste  heat  of  the  solar  system,  and  event- 
ually, falling  into  the  sun,  restore  its  power — is  nearer  the  truth  than 
the  more  modern  hypothesis,  that  meteorites  are  incessantly  raining 
an  iron  shower  upon  the  solar  surface,  and  by  their  mechanical  impact 
reproducing  the  energy  as  constantly  as  it  is  expended  ? 


THE  WAR  STEAMER  "  DEVASTATION," 

Of  which  we  furnish  a  fine  cut,  is  one  of  the  later  vessels  built  for  the  British  navy. 
She  was  not  designed  for  long  cruises,  but  can  make  long  voyages  with  the  1,800 
tons  of  coal,  which  she  is  able  to  carry.  Her  hull  is  285  feet  long,  with  an  extreme 
width  of  58  feet,  without  the  armor-plates  and  backings,  which  increase  it  to  62  feet 
3  inches.  Her  armor-plates  are  10,  12,  and  14  inches  in  thickness.  The  two  tur- 
rets measure  each  24  feet  3  inches  in  their  internal  diameter,  and  are  built  up  of  five 
layers.  Each  turret  carries  two  Frazer  muzzle-loading  rifled  guns,  of  35  tons  each. 
She  was  built  for  a  powerful  fighting  ship.  "  The  engines  are  two  pairs  of  driving 
twin  screws,  independently  with  a  power  of  800  horse,  but  can  be  made  to  work  to 
seven  times  that  amount." 


SAMUEL  E.  B.  MORSE. 


SAMUEL  F.  B.  MORSE  died  at  his  residence  in  west  Twenty- 
Second  Street,  New  York,  on  Tuesday,  April  2d,  1872.  If  it  be 
legitimate  to  measure  a  man  by  the  magnitude  of  his  achievements, 
by  the  boon  he  has  conferred  on  the  world,  he,  who  gently  folded 
his  hands  upon  his  breast  that  evening,  and  in  Christian  resignation 
bade  farewell  to  earth,  was  the  greatest  man  of  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury. He  was  the  Napoleon  of  Peace.  He  could  afford  to  leave  to 
the  warriors  of  his  generation  the  turbulent  pursuit  of  that  which 
historians  call  glory,  to  become  the  apostle  of  that  higher  glory  which 
men  call  Usefulness.  Even  in  the  whirl  of  battle  and  the  bewilder- 
ing zigzags  of  politics,  the  race,  doubtless,  does  creep  slowly  onward 
toward  a  better  destiny,  but  the  chief  crowns  of  honor  will  always 
be  awarded  to  the  scholars  and  inventors  who  give  leisure  and  oppor- 
tunity to  the  million,  and  make  easier  the  hard  work  of  every  day. 

The  life  of  Professor  Morse  had  been  almost  identical  with  the  life 
of  the  republic.  He  was  born  on  April  27th,  1791,  during  Washing- 
ton's second  term  as  President.  We  think  of  Shelly  and  Keats  as 
poets  of  a  distant  past ;  yet  Morse  was  born  a  year  before  Shelly,  and 
five  years  before  Keats,  while  their  brilliant  friend  and  eulogist, 
Byron,  was  only  three  years  his  senior.  When  Morse  first  opened 
his  eyes,  within  sight  of  Bunker  Hill,  six  of  the  presidents,  whom  he 
lived  to  see  inaugurated,  were  not  yet  born.  James  Buchanan  was  a 
fortnight  old.  Napoleon  Bonaparte  was  a  lieutenant  of  artillery,  and 
had  not  yet  seen  active  service.  Morse  was  a  child  when  Robes- 
pierre held  Paris  in  his  bloody  grasp ;  a  lad  at  school  before  Napoleon 
won  Marengo  ;  an  historical  painter,  struggling  with  poverty  in  Eng- 
land, before  Napoleon  was  captured  by  his  allied  enemies.  He  lived 
under  the  administration  of  every  one  of  the  eighteen  presidents;  saw 
the  republic  grow  from  four  to  forty  millions — from  a  weak  and  de- 
spised band  of  successful  rebels,  to  one  of  the  leading  Powers  of  the 
earth  ;  witnessed  the  struggle  of  slavery  for  conquest,  and  its  triumph- 


234  SAMUEL    F.     B.    MORSE. 

ant  overthrow.  Some  of  the  grandest  enterprises  of  philanthropy 
and  some  of  the  most  important  achievements  of  art  were  perfected 
within  the  zone  of  his  life. 

Samuel  Finley  Breese  Morse  came  of  good  sturdy  stock ;  a  family 
blessed  with  patience  and  pluck,  in  the  habit  of  struggling  with  ad- 
versity, and  of  overcoming  it.  Several  of  his  nearest  relatives  were 
famous  as  authors  and  inventors.  His  father,  Jedediah  Morse,  was 
known  all  over  the  English-speaking  world  as  "  the  father  of  Ameri- 
can geography."  Born  in  Woodstock,  Connecticut,  in  1761,  he  was 
graduated  from  Yale  in  his  twenty-second  year,  and  was  licensed  to 
preach  two  years  thereafter,  having,  meantime,  printed  a  little  i8mo 
geography  for  young  ladies — the  first  American  geography  printed  on 
this  continent.  Serving  three  years  as  tutor,  he  was  in  1789  installed  as 
pastor  of  the  Congregational  Church  in  Charlestown,  Massachusetts. 
He  preached  on  Sunday,  and  served  God  during  the  week  by  enlarg- 
ing and  improving  his  geography,  making  wide  excursions  through 
the  States,  and  establishing  a  large  correspondence,  for  the  purpose 
of  gathering  information.  He  showed  great  vigor  in  obtaining  cor- 
rect surveys  and  statistics,  and  reliable  knowledge  of  the  character 
and  customs  of  the  people,  the  distribution  of  important  staples,  etc. , 
and  this  work  was  pushed  so  assiduously,  and  his  publications  were 
so  exhaustive,  that  Belknap,  the  historian,  of  New  Hampshire, 
Hutchins,  the  geographer-general  of  the  United  States,  and  other 
gentlemen,  graciously  discontinued  their  projects  of  similar  books, 
and  surrendered  all  their  materials  to  him.  He  was  among  the  most 
active  in  securing  the  enactment  of  the  original  copyright  law,  and 
availed  himself  of  its  benefits,  perhaps,  in  1790.  Some  years  later 
Noah  Webster's  first  "  American  spelling-book"  made  its  appearance. 
For  thirty  years,  he  remained  master  of  the  geographical  field, — with 
out  a  peer,  almost  with  a  rival, — and  then  he  surrendered  to  his  son 
Sidney. 

Young  Samuel  speedily  made  a  boy's  acquaintance  with  Charlestown ; 
participating  in  the  village  kite-flying  festivals  and  hop-scotch  tour- 
naments, its  miscKtef,  its  marbles,  and  its  mumble-peg.  He  was  a 
rather  healthy,  rugged,  sturdy  boy;  and  the  success  of  his  father's 
pet  geography  saved  him  from  that  tough  tussle  with  poverty  and 
hard  work,  in  the  midst  of  which  most  of  the  illustrious  Americans 
of  that  generation  fought  their  way  through  the  district  school.  He 
had  an  easy  time  of  it,  on  the  whole.  Earth  seemed  to  the  boy  a 
tolerably  pleasant  planet  to  live  on,  and  life  did  not  assume  the 
fabled  aspect  of  the  hyena  to  him  till  he  arrived  at  mature  years  and 
walked  into  the  arena  to  face  it.  His  studies  were  prosecuted  mostly 
under  his  father's  direction  ;  and  they  were  successful,  for  he  was  only 
fifteen  when,  in  1806,  he  entered  Yale  College  and  took  his  place  in 
the  class  which  his  father  entered  twenty-seven  years  before.  Young 
as  he  was,  his  brother  Sidney  E.,  three  years  younger,  was  in  the 
sophomore  class,  ahead  of  him,  a  brilliant  precocious  boy  of  twelve, 


A     STUDENT     IN    SCIENCE     AND     ART.  235 

predestined  by  a  fond  mother  to  the  pulpit,  and  dreaming  the  dreams 
which  were  to  find  fruition  twenty  years  later,  in  the  establishment 
of  the  New  York  Observer,  for  a  long  period,  the  most  successful  re- 
ligious newspaper  in  America ;  and  having  now  a  larger  circulation 
than  hitherto,  and  thirty  years  later  in  the  invention  of  the  valuable 
art  of  Cerography,  and,  still  later,  of  the  Bathometer,  for  measuring 
the  hitherto  measureless  depths  of  the  sea. 

Samuel  was  never  quite  so  devout  as  Sidney,  but  he  was  a  faithful 
and  orderly  student.  He  is  also  said  to  have  been  "  somewhat  eccen- 
tric." His  principal  eccentricity  consisted  in  learning  his  lessons 
thoroughly  and  methodically.  It  was  also  known,  however,  that  he 
had  strong  predilections  for  the  natural  sciences,  and  that  his  love 
of  the  fine  arts  amounted  to  a  passion.  One  of  the  earliest  proofs 
of  his  fondness  for  painting  is  still  in  the  possessibn  of  his  family ;  it 
is  a  pleasant  group,  in  which  the  father  and  mother  and  the  three 
sons,  Samuel,  Sidney,  and  Richard,  are  sketched,  by  a  hand  not  yet 
skilled  in  art,  in  the  prim  and  stately  outward  adornments  worn 
at  that  day.  He  made  himself  familiar  with  the  small  private  collec- 
tions of  pictures  in  New  Haven  at  that  early  day,  and  even  ventured 
on  a  trip  to  New  York  and  Philadelphia,  where  he  was  entranced  with 
the  productions  of  those  eminent  Americans,  Washington  Allston,  and 
Benjamin  West.  West  was  gloating  over  the  wonders  of  the  Apoc- 
alypse, and  was  covering  his  "  redish-brown  canvas  "  with  ornate 
angels  on  impossible  steeds ;  but  the  very  audacity  stirred  young 
Morse's  soul  within  him,  and  he  resolved  to  be  an  artist. 

Yet  his  love  was  divided.  Having  taken  Nature  for  his  sweetheart, 
he  found  her  absorbing  and  exacting,  developing  new  charms  day  by 
day.  Professor  Benjamin  Silliman  was  instructor  in  chemistry,  and 
Professor  Day  in  philosophy,  and  under  their  guidance  the  young 
enthusiast  found  a  new  world  in  the  laboratory.  Traditions  at  Yale 
still  tell  of  the  perils  encountered  in  his  pursuit  of  knowledge,  and 
how  near  he  came  to  blowing  up  the  Old  South  with  a  retort  that 
exploded  in  his  room. 

The  student  also  developed  a  strong  fondness  for  mathematics,  and 
in  his  junior  year  resolved  to  practice  the  profession  of  civil  engi- 
neering as  the  work  of  his  life.  But  he  was  only  eighteen,  and  sub- 
ject to  rather  sudden  if  not  frequent  changes  of  opinion. 

Commencement-day  arrived,  and  passed  to  the  credit  of  the  stu- 
dent. We  do  not  know  whether  or  not  he  won  any  of  the  honors 
of  his  class;  but  his  success  in  life  may  be  accepted  as  inferential 
proof  that  he  was  not  the  valedictorian.  When  Samuel  Morse,  A. 
B.,  aged  eighteen,  turned  his  back  reluctantly  upon  the  beloved 
laboratory,  in  1810,  Sidney  Morse,  A.  B.,  aged  fifteen,  had  been  out 
of  college  a  year,  and  was  writing  profound  political  treatises  for  the 
Boston  magazines,  on  the  perils  that  menaced  the  federal  system  from 
an  undue  multiplication  of  States!  Once  in  print,  of  course,  Sidney 


23  SAMUEL    F.    B.     MORSE. 

resolved  to  become  an  author  and  editor.  The  touch  of  type  is  gen- 
erally fatal. 

The  time  had  now  arrived  for  Samuel  to  select  his  profession  irrev- 
ocably. His  father  tried  to  increase  the  attraction  which  civil 
engineering  seemed  to  possess  for  him,  urging  that  it  was  at  once 
respectable,  honorable  and  lucrative,  and  that,  in  the  new  and  ex- 
panding country,  these  terrestrial  artists  were  sure  to  grow  in  power 
and  usefulness.  The  number  of  competent  civil  engineers  in  the 
country  at  that  time  was  small,  for  all  constructions  were  comparatively 
rude,  and  George  Stephenson,  in  England,  was  just  being  haunted 
by  his  first  vague  dreams  of  a  railroad. 

The  career  selected  by  the  practical  sire  seemed  to  the  ambitious 
youth  too  earthly.  It  did  not  sufficiently  minister  to  his  Esthetic  and 
literary  taste.  The  incense  of  Silliman's  laboratory  still  hung  pleas- 
antly about  him,  and  his  young  eyes  were  full  of  the  miracles  of 
Benjamin  West.  The  result  of  his  reflections,  under  such  circum- 
stances, may  easily  be  divined.  He  resolved  to  be  a  painter.  His 
father  argued  the  case,  presented  the  obvious  objections  to  the  choice 
he  had  made,  ridiculed  his  chimerical  hopes,  and  resisted  him  gently 
when  Samuel  announced  that  he  was  going  to  Europe  to  study. 

"Who  ever  knew  an  artist  that  amounted  to  any  thing?"  asked  the 
successful  geographer,  contemptuously. 

"The  backers  of  Michael  Angelo !  "  responded  the  boy  proudly. 

"Well,  we'll  see,"  rejoined  the  father;  "go  'long  your  own 
way.  I  don't  like  it,  but  go  along,  and  I'll  give  you  a  good  outfit." 

So  during  the  next  summer — the  summer  of  1811  —  he  started  for 
England  in  company  with  Allston,  and  under  his  protection.  All- 
ston  had  already  won  fame  in  London  and  on  the  continent  as  a 
great  colorist,  and  had  returned  to  his  native  country  for  a  wife,  and 
he  was  now  doubtless  glad  to  carry  back  as  his  protege  the  young 
student  who  had  shown  such  enthusiastic  admiration  of  his  work. 

The  journey  of  Morse  to  Europe,  at  this  time,  was  rendered  doubly 
opportune,  by  the  fact  that  the  Philadelphia  Quaker,  Benjamin  West, 
had  succeeded  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  in  the  Presidency  of  the  Royal 
Academy,  and  George  III  was  his  munificent  patron.  The  young 
man  enjoyed  the  instruction  of  both  Allston  and  West,  and  he  en- 
tered zealously  upon  his  studies.  His  imagination  was  less  grotesque 
and  fantastic  than  that  of  his  teachers,  and  he  had  little  penchant 
for  what  Allston  admiringly  calls  "  the  magnificent  and  the  awful." 
His  treatment  of  historical  and  metaphorical  subjects  was  quieter 
than  theirs,  and  less  vigorous.  He  immediately  became  acquainted 
with  the  young  American,  Charles  Leslie,  who  afterward  acquired 
renown  as  one  of  the  first  painters  of  England,  and  Leslie  and 
Morse  began  the  practice  of  their  profession  by  painting  portraits  of 
each  other. 

Morse  made  rapid  progress.  If  he  took  West  for  his  model  in 
drawing,  and  Allston  in  coloring — if  he  emulated  West's  industry 


RESIDENCE    IN    LONDON,     BOSTON,    ETC.  237 

and  Allston's  genius — he  could  not  have  begun  under  happier  aus- 
pices. During  the  next  year  he  conceived  the  idea  of  his  first  pre- 
tentious composition — The  Dying  Hercules — and  imitated  Allston  in 
first  modeling  the  figure  in  clay.  After  six  weeks  of  careful  labor, 
the  statue  was  finished,  and  submitted  to  West.  The  venerable  artist, 
on  entering  the  room,  put  on  his  spectacles,  and,  as  he  walked  around 
the  model,  a  look  of  genuine  satisfaction  beamed  from  his  face.  He 
rang  for  an  attendant  and  summoned  his  son.  "Look  here,  Raph- 
ael!" said  he,  in  the  presence  of  the  artist,  "did  I  not  always  tell 
you  that  every  painter  could  be  a  sculptor?"  We  may  imagine  the 
delight  of  the  student  at  such  commendation.  The  same  day  his  at- 
tention was  called  to  the  fact  that  the  Adelphi  Society  of  Arts  had 
offered  a  prize  for  the  best  single  figure  in  sculpture.  The  time  for 
entries  would  expire  within  three  days,  but  Morse  seized  the  occa- 
sion and  placed  his  piece  with  the  thirteen  others  on  exhibition.  He 
took  the  prize,  and  received  the  gold  medal  from  the  hand  of  the 
Duke  of  Norfolk.  He  was  evidently  enjoying  the  sunshine.  Spurred 
to  larger  "rivalry"  by  his  success,  he  contended  for  the  prize  of  the 
Royal  Academy  in  historical  painting:  subject,"  Judgment  of  Jupiter 
in  the  case  of  Apollo,  Mapessa,  and  Idas."  He  finished  his  picture, 
but,  before  the  exhibition,  he  suddenly  awoke  one  morning,  in  1815, 
to  the  fact  that  the  last  dollar  of  his  money  was  gone.  His  sweet 
dream  of  an  artist's  paradise  vanished  forever.  Disappointed  and 
chagrined,  he  withdrew  from  the  competition,  and  left  the  Babylon 
of  Britain  for  America.  His  picture  was  highly  praised  by  connois- 
seurs, and  West  afterwards  expressed  the  opinion  that  it  would  have 
won  the  prize.  It  was  obvious  that  the  man  who  made  the  telegraph 
ought  to  have  been  competent  to  portray  the  passions  of  his  great 
rival,  the  god  who  directed  the  lightnings  of  the  Aegean. 

Morse  now  took  up  his  residence  in  Boston,  within  sight  of  the 
old  homestead,  and  announced  that  he  was  willing  to  paint  portraits 
for  cash.  He  was  ready,  as  he  expressed  it,  to  "coin  brains  into 
bread."  His  ambition  was  seriously  crippled  by  the  extreme  reluc- 
tance of  the  people  to  come  forward  and  get  their  portraits.  His 
brother  Sidney  was  in  Boston,  also  editing  the  Recorder,  the  first  or 
second  distinctively  religious  newspaper  in  the  country. 

Discouraged  and  shocked  by  the  low  artistic  taste  which  prevailed 
in  the  city,  the  portrait-painter  plunged  into  the  woods  of  New 
Hampshire,  and  there  sought  refuge  from  the  selfishness  of  the  cold 
world.  He  offered  to  paint  portraits  for  ten  dollars  each;  but  the 
frontier  farmers,  engaged  in  clearing  up  their1  land,  and  eliminating 
superfluous  wildcats  and  woodchucks  from  the  agricultural  problem, 
could  not  generally  afford  even  to  have  their  houses  painted,  and 
after  enduring  a  year  of  their  kindly  but  unprofitable  hospitality,  the 
artist  started  for  Charleston,  South  Carolina,  with  whose  glories  All- 
ston had  made  him  familiar.  At  this  date  the  Muses  were,  undenia- 
bly, more  at  home  in  the  Southern  metropolis  than  in  the  yankee 


238  SAMUEL    F.     B.     MORSE. 

capital ;  and  it  is  somewhat  curious  that  while  Morse  stayed  in 
Charleston,  the  home  of  Allston,  and  practiced  portrait-painting  for 
five  or  six  years,  Allston  returned  to  America  and  settled  down  in 
Boston,  the  home  of  Morse.  The  artist  found  .more  portraits  to  paint 
in  Charleston  than  among  the  pine  hills  of  New  Hampshire ;  but  his 
experience  during  these  years  went  far  to  confirm  the  objections 
which  the  Cambridge  geographer  had  urged  against  reliance  upon  the 
fine  arts  as  a  means  of  support. 

Among  other  ventures,  he  painted  the  interior  of  the  House  of 
Representatives  of  the  United  States — rather  an  ambitious  subject. 
While  in  France  he  had  succeeded  admirably  with  an  Interior  of  the 
Louvre,  introducing  copies  of  the  famous  pictures  on  the  walls  in  min- 
iature, and  he  thought  that  if  he  could  give  portraits  of  the  most 
distinguished  American  Congressmen,  in  miniature,  it  would  be  a  hit. 
It  took  him  nearly  two  years  to  paint  it,  and  when  it  was  done, 
a  though  the  portraits  were  authentic  and  cleverly  arranged,  it  attracted 
little  attention,  and  the  artist  rolled  up  the  huge  canvas  in  disgust. 
His  impecunious  and  cynical  friend,  the  poet  Percival,  stormed  at 
the  public  about  it,  and  declared  it  was  a  disgrace  that  Morse  had 
to  pay  $  1 10  for  the  privilege  of  exhibiting  the  great  work  free  in 
New  York ! 

Morse  now  resolved  to  plunge  into  politics,  and  accepted  the  posi- 
tion of  an  attache  of  the  American  legation  to  Mexico.  He  aban- 
doned the  design,  however,  and  in  1823,  went  to  live  in  New  York, 
attracted  to  the  metropolis  largely  by  the  fact  that  his  brother  Sid- 
ney had  gone  there  to  start  the  New  York  Observer,  the  organ  of  the 
Presbyterians.  Samuel  Morse  was  thirty-two.  He  was  somewhat  in 
debt,  but  his  artistic  ability  and  fine  social  qualities  were  at  once 
recognized,  and  he  found  appreciation  and  patronage.  Lafayette  re- 
visited America  in  1824,  and,  in  the  midst  of  the  furor  of  his  wel- 
come, th«  corporation  of  New  York  commissioned  Morse  to  paint  a 
full-length  portrait  of  him  for  the  City  Hall.  The  distinguished 
patriot  sat  to  the  artist,  and  the  result  was  satisfactory.  William 
Cullen  Bryant,  who  knew  Morse  for  fifty  years,  says  of  his  character 
and  habits  as  an  artist:  "His  mind,  as  I  remember,  was  strongly 
impelled  to  analyze  the  processes  of  his  art — to  give  them  a  certain 
scientific  precision — to  reduce  them  to  fixed  rules,  to  refer  effects  to 
clearly  defined  causes,  so  as  to  put  it  in  the  power  of  the  artist  to 
produce  them  at  pleasure  and  with  certainty,  instead  of  blindly  grop- 
ing for  them,  and,  in  the  end,  owing  them  to  some  happy  accident, 
or  some  instinctive  effort,  of  which  he  could  give  no  account." 

He  was  called  away  from  the  delightful  task  of  finishing  the  portrait  of 
Lafayette  to  attend  the  death-beds  of  his  wife  and  father,  and  to  watch 
over  his  sick  children.  In  the  beautiful  cemetery  at  New  Haven  is  a 
stone  on  which  he  caused  to  be  inscribed:  "In  memory  of  Lucretia 
Pickering,  wife  of  Samuel  F.  B.  Morse,  who  died  February  7,  1825, 
aged  25.  Beautiful  in  form,  features,  and  expression :  bland  in  her 


ELECTRO-MAGNETIC    TELEGRAPH.  239 

manners,  highly  cultivated  in  mind,  dignified  without  haughtiness, 
amiable  without  tameness,  firm  without  severity,  cheerful  without 
levity;  in  suffering  the  most  keen  the  serenity  of  her  mind  never 
left  her ;  though  suddenly  called  from  earth,  eternity  was  no  stranger 
to  her  thoughts,  but  a  welcome  theme  of  contemplation." 

Morse  was  constitutionally  an  organizer.  In  1825  he  induced  the 
artists  of  the  city  to  meet  together  at  his  room,  ostensibly  to  eat 
strawberries  and  cream,  and  the  result  was  the  organization  of  the 
National  Academy  of  Design,  which  has  since  grown  to  such  noble 
proportions,  and  has  given  to  artists  a  far  higher  consideration  in  the 
country  than  was  ever  before  accorded  to  them.  Morse  was  elected 
its  first  president,  and  retained  the  position  for  sixteen  years.  He 
delivered  in  the  New  York  Athenaeum  the  first  course  of  art  lectures 
ever  attempted  in  America. 

Meantime  he  plodded  away  at  the  easel.  Though  he  was  an  excel- 
lent practical  chemist,  and  knew  what  the  nitrate  of  silver  was,  and 
had  read  of  the  success  of  Humphrey  Davy  in  producing  a  transient 
human  profile  on  a  screen,  the  artist-scientist  never  thought  of  the 
yet  unborn  Daguerreotype.  But  his  friendship  for  Prof.  J.  F.  Dana 
had  become  very  intimate,  and  he  attended,  with  keen  appreciation, 
his  lectures  on  electro-magnetism  at  the  Athenaeum.  The  first  electro- 
magnet ever  used  in  the  United  States  belonged  to  Morse,  and  the 
spiral  coil  used  by  Dana  suggested  to  the  inventor  the  magnet  now 
used  in  every  Morse  instrument  in  the  world. 

The  experiments  and  developments  in  the  realm  of  electricity  now 
announced  the  speedy  birth  of  the  telegraph.  Morse  had  kept  up 
his  interest  in  chemistry,  and  had  eagerly  followed  the  progress  of 
the  new  and  marvelous  discoveries.  During  his  whole  life  as  an 
artist  he  had  speculated  frequently  on  the  phenomena  of  electricity 
and  electro-magnetism.  With  his  friend,  Dana,  he  had  investigated 
these  and  cognate  matters,  and,  like  many  of  the  scientific  men  of 
his  age,  they  had  discussed  the  practicability  of  conveying  intelligible 
signs  through  long  distances. 

In  1829  Morse  again  went  to  Europe  to  finish  his  education  in  art, 
which  had  been  so  abruptly  broken  off  fourteen  years  before.  He 
went  to  profit  by  study,  and  hoping  to  acquire  the  facility  and  dex- 
terity, the  lack  of  which  so  much  embarrassed  him.  He  remained 
three  years,  and  in  October,  1832,  he  sailed  from  Havre  for  New 
York  in  the  packet-ship  Sully.  In  the  cabin  of  that  vessel  was  born 
the  electric  telegraph.  In  this  place  let  us  see  what  was  known  of 
electricity  and  telegraphing  when  Morse  discovered  his  new  world 
upon  the  Sully. 

For  conveying  messages,  the  signal,  for  the  sea,  and  the  semaphore, 
for  the  land,  were  deemed  sufficient.  They  were  substantially  the 
same  method.  The  semaphores  were  a  line  of  tall  towers  built  on 
commanding  elevations  at  a  distance  of  five  to  ten  miles,  equipped 
with  powerful  telescopes,  and  an  apparatus  on  the  top  consisting  of 


240  SAMUEL    F.     B.     MORSE. 

a  mast  with  two  arms,  which  turned  in  different  directions  for  the 
different  letters  of  the  alphabet.  This  answered  very  well  in  clear 
weather,  but  it  was  expensive,  and  often  an  important  dispatch  would 
break  off  abrnptly  in  the  middle  with  the  dismal  words  "Stopped  by 
the  fog."  The  semaphore  was  greatly  superior  to  the  telegraph  of 
the  Gauls,  which  consisted  in  shouting  the  news  from  one  hill  to 
another,  and  by  the  use  of  which  Caesar  summoned  his  armies  to- 
gether in  three  days;  and  to  the  signal  of  the  fiery  cross,  by  which 
the  Saxons  announced  the  approach  of  the  Normans;  and  it  served 
so  well  in  France,  that  there  was  much  public  remonstrance  when,  in 
1848,  it  was  superseded  by  the  electric  telegraph. 

Franklin  set  alcohol  on  fire  as  early  as  1748,  almost  half  a  century 
before  Morse  was  born,  by  sending  a  charge  of  friction  electricity 
under  the  Schuylkill  river.  Dr.  Watson,  in  England,  in  1747,  sent 
shocks  through  two  miles  of  wire  suspended  on  posts,  using  the  inter- 
vening earth  to  complete  the  circuit.  Pre-arranged  signals  were  com- 
municated by  the  electric  shock  by  Lesage,  at  Geneva,  in  1774,  and 
by  Lomond,  of  France,  in  1787,  probably  by  causing  the  divergence 
of  pith-balls.  In  1794,  when  Morse  was  three  years  old,  Reizen,  of 
Germany,  constructed  an  electric  telegraph,  using  thirty-seven  wires, 
and  so  arranging  spaces  upon  tin-foil  that  when  they  were  illuminated 
the  indicated  letter  was  exhibited.  Similar  telegraphs  were  .con- 
structed in  Madrid  in  1797-8,  one  of  them  extending  twenty-six 
miles.  Ronolds  set  up  an  eight-mile  electric  telegraph  in  England, 
in  1816,  and  in  1827  Harrison  G.  Dyar  constructed  a  line  of  two 
miles  on  Long  Island,  using  iron  wire,  glass  insulators  and  wooden 
posts,  and  employing  the  chemical  action  of  the  electric  current  on 
litmus  paper  as  his  means  of  communicating.  Ronolds  asked  the 
English  Government  to  adopt  his  invention,  and  the  tardy  reply  set 
forth  that  "telegraphs  are  of  no  use  in  time  of  peace,  and  during  war 
the  semaphore  answers  all  required  purposes  !"  This  in  the  nine- 
teenth century ! 

All  these  attempts  were  partial  failures,  for  the  reason  that  they  all 
used  machine  or  friction  electricity,  and  all,  with  the  exception  of 
Dyar's  New  York  contrivance,  were  merely  signaling  and  not  record- 
ing telegraphs. 

The  construction  of  the  Voltaic  pile,  by  Professor  Alexander  Volta, 
of  Pavia,  was  indispensable  as  a  preliminary  condition  to  the  inven- 
tion of  a  successful  electric  telegraph ;  for  before  a  satisfactory  tele- 
graph could  be  made  possible,  there  must  be  assured  a  regular  and 
constant  flow  of  the  fluid  whenever  summoned,  like  those  electric  cur- 
rents produced  by  chemical  action.  It  must  be  uniform  and  abundant 
under  all  circumstances ;  whereas  the  old  methods  by  friction  supplied 
only  small  quantities,  and  that  irregularly.  A  century  ago  the  crank  of 
the  electrical  machine  was  turned  mainly  for  amusement  and  the  grati- 
fication of  curiosity.  But  at  a  semi-scientific  reunion  at  Bologna,  while 
Galvani  was  making  investigations  on  the  nervous  irritability  of  cold- 


EARLY     ELECTRICIANS.  241 

blooded  animals,  he  discovered  that  the  limbs  of  a  dead  frog  contracted 
violently  on  each  recurrence  of  the  spark.  He  afterwards  obtained  the 
same  results  by  bringing  the  copper  hook,  on  which  the  nerve  hung,  and 
the  limb  itself  simultaneously  in  contact  with  an  iron  railing.  The 
experiment  was  repeated  all  over  Europe  with  great  delight  and 
amazement.  Galvani  insisted  that  the  electricity  arose  in  the  limb 
itself.  Volta  proclaimed  the  opposite  theory,  that  the  electric  force 
originated  in  the  contact  of  the  heterogeneous  metals.  The  contest 
was  vigorous,  but  it  is  now  known  that  both  were  wrong,  and  the  chemi- 
cal theory  is  generally  accepted,  attributing  the  source  of  galvanic 
electricity  to  the  chemical  action  of  a  liquid  on  a  metal  coupled 
with  another  metal  less  easily  acted  on  than  itself. 

In  1799,  Volta  by  accident  discovered  the  extraordinary  action  of 
certain  liquids  on  metals,  and  immediately  conceived  and  constructed 
the  Voltaic  pile.  He  took  a  series  of  two  discs,  _=,_ 
one  of  copper  (c),  and  one  of  zinc  (0),  soldered  ^fl§  ^)  C 
together.  He  separated  each  compound  plate 
with  a  circular  piece  of  woolen  cloth  (/&),  moist- 
ened with  a  solution  of  common  salt  or  diluted 
sulphuric  acid,  and  placed  these  above  each  other 
in  a  pile.  The  electricity  which  he  drew  from  the 
pile  was  sufficient  to  produce  shocks  and  even 
sparks.  These  effects  were  obtained  continuously,  and  the  pile  needed 
no  recharging.  This  was  an  immense  advance  in  the  study  of  elec- 
trical phenomena.  Thenceforward  progress  was  rapid. 

Sommering  began  experimenting  for  a  Voltaic-battery  telegraph  in 
1809.  He  used  thirty-five  wires,  each  terminating  in  a  gold  point, 
and  all  the  points  were  set  up  vertically  on  a  horizontal  line  at  the 
bottom  of  a  reservoir  of  water.  An  electric  current  caused  bubbles 
of  gas  to  rise  to  the  surface  over  the  points  affected,  and  thus  the 
letters  were  indicated.  But  the  incomplete  batteries  then  in  use  were 
unequal  to  a  long  circuit  or  prolonged  action.  They  were  soon  ex- 
hausted, and  practical  telegraphing  had  to  wait  the  discovery  of 
electro-magnetism. 

This  important  branch  of  the  science  was  developed  during  the 
next  twenty  years,  by  CErsted,  of  Copenhagen;  Schweigger,  of  Halle, 
and  Ampere,  of  Paris.  William  Sturgeon,  of  London,  and  Becquerl, 
Kemp,  and  Olm,  of  Germany;  but  to  Professor  Joseph  Henry,  then 
Professor  of  Mathematics  at  Albany,  afterwards  at  Princeton  College, 
New  Jersey,  is  pre-eminently  due  the  honor  of  having  explored  the 
laws  of  nature  in  advance  of  all  others,  and  for  being  the  "first  to  wrest 
electro-magnetism  from  Nature's  embrace  and  make  it  a  missionary  in 
the  cause  of  human  progress"  after  making  over  "four  thousand  ex- 
periments."* By  his  important  discoveries  the  battery  was  strength- 

•  See  an    article  from  Prof.   Henry  stating  some  results,  in   vol.    xix  of   Silli  • 
man's  American  Journal  of  Science,  published  in  1831,  pp.  400,  etc. 
16 


242  SAMUEL    F.    B.    MORSE. 

ened  inconceivably;  adapting  the  telegraph  to  the  longest  distances. 
He  strengthened  the  magnet  by  increasing  the  number  of  coils  of 
wire  on  the  arms,  and  first  demonstrated  the  practicability  of  send- 
ing intelligence  between  the  most  distant  points.  [In  1835,  Henry 
being  in  London,  showed  Wheatstone  his  method  of  producing  these 
mechanical  effects  by  exciting  magnetism  at  a  distance,  and  the  Eng- 
lish savan  profitably  added  this  to  the  intelligence  brought  by  Cooke 
from  Germany.]  The  distinguished  English  electrician,  Faraday,  in 
the  winter  of  1831-2,  published  his  discoveries  of  the  induction  of 
electric  currents,  and  of  the  evolution  of  electricity  from  magnets 
which  soon  after  enriched  the  world  with  the  induction  coil,  invented 
by  Prof.  Charles  G.  Page,  of  Salem,  Mass.  t 

Thus  it  is  plain  that  the  science  of  electro-magnetism  was  far  ad- 
vanced when  Morse  entered  the  lists  to  compete  for  the  great  prize. 
By  the  year  1832  there  was  much  earnest  talk,  in  all  scientific  circles, 
about  the  wonderful  phenomena  of  electricity  and  what  was  likely  to 
result.  So  it  was  quite  natural  that  on  the  packet  Sully,  the  next 
day  after  the  artist-chemist  took  passage  for  home,  conversation  turned 
to  the  discovery  of  CErsted,  establishing  the  correlation  of  elec- 
tricity and  magnetism.  A  gentleman  described  some  experiments  he 
had  just  witnessed  in  Paris,  in  which  a  magnet  gave  forth  sparks. 

"How  long  does  it  take  the  fluid  to  pass  through  one  hundred 
feet  of  wire?"  asked  a  passenger. 

"It  passes  instantaneously,"  replied  Morse,  quoting  Franklin's 
experiment  on  a  wire  four  miles  long. 

"And  if  that  is  so,"  he  added,  by  way  of  comment,  "and  if  the 
presence  of  electricity  could  be  made  to  manifest  itself  in  any  desired 
part  of  the  circuit,  I  see  no  reason  why  intelligence  might  not  be 
transmitted  instantaneously  by  electricity." 

"  How  convenient  it  would  be  to  send  news  from  Boston  to  Wash- 
ington!" exclaimed  the  other  incredulously. 

"I  see  no  reason  why  we  may  not,"  confidently  rejoined  Morse. 

From  that  moment  he  never  relinquished  his  hold  of  the  idea.  It 
occupied  all  his  thoughts.  It  seemed  to  him  a  settled  fact  that,  in 
a  gentle  and  steady  current  of  the  electric  fluid  there  was  a  source 
of  regular  and  rapid  flight,  which  might  be  applied  to  a  machine  for 
conveying  messages  from  place  to  place,  and  inscribing  them  on  a 
tablet  at  their  point  of  destination.  He  procured  pen  and  paper,  and 
shut  himself  into  his  state-room.  It  remained  now  to  devise  merely 
the  necessary  apparatus,  and  before  the  Sully  dropped  anchor  in  New 
York  Harbor,  Morse  had  invented  and  put  on  paper,  in  drawings  and 
explanatory  words,  foreshadowings  of  the  apparatus  employed  to  this 
hour  by  most  of  the  telegraph  lines  in  the  world.  The  alphabetic  system 
used  on  his  first  machine,  the  narrow  sheets  of  paper  upon  a  revolving 
block,  and  a  mode  of  burying  wires  in  the  earth  were  all  thought  of, 
and  recorded  on  board  that  packet-ship.  We  can  fancy  the  inventor, 
full  of  this  thought,  as  he  paced  the  deck  of  the  Sully,  or  lay  in  his 


THE    ORIGINAL    REGISTER. 


243 


berth,  revolving  in  his  mind  the  mechanical  contrivances  by  which 
this  was  to  be  effected,  until  the  whole  process  had  become  definitely 
outlined  in  his  imagination,  and  he  saw  before  him  all  the  countries  of 
the  civilized  world  intersected  with  lines  of  his  electric  wire,  bearing 
messages  to  and  fro  with  the  speed  of  light. 

Except  the  idea  of  suspending  the  wires  on  posts,  all  the  essential 
features  of  the  invention  were  thought  out  before  the'vessel  entered 
the  harbor.  A  few  days  after  landing  it  occurred  to  him  that  a  sus- 
pension of  the  insulated  wires  on  poles  might  be  preferable,  though 
he  still  believed  the  burying  process  the  best.  But  science  had  done 
her  part  in  advance  by  making  the  earth  a  conductor.  It  remained 
for  the  inventor  to  devise  an  apparatus  which  should  utilize  the  sci- 
entific discoveries  already  made,  which  Professor  Morse  in  due  time 
accomplished,  but  not  without  many  months  of  labor. 

Of  course  the  telegraph  was  the  aggregate  result  of  the  genius  and 
patient  toil  of  many  men,  and  it  is  agreed  by  almost  universal  con- 
sent, even  in  Europe,  that  the  world  is  far  more  indebted  to  Morse's 
system  than  to  any  other;  but  this,  as  the  sequel  will  show,  is  not 
the  product  of  Professor  Morse  alone. 

His  first  idea  was  to  pass  a  strip  of  chemically  prepared  paper  in 
contact  with  the  wire,  decomposing  the  chemicals  so  as  to  form  marks 
of  different  lengths,  which  should  form  a  sign  alphabet.  Next  he 
adopted,  after  much  patient  work  in  experimenting,  a  rude  apparatus, 
which  he  made,  in  1835,  w^  ms  own  hands,  using  a  half  mile  of  wire 
strung  around  the  room,  but  this  only  transmitted  in  one  direction. 
In  a  work  on  telegraphs  by  Alfred  Vail,  published  in  1845,  w^  ^ 
found  an  article  copied  from  the  New  York  Journal  of  Commerce, 
of  September  5th  or  6th,  1837,  written  and  signed  by  Professor 
Morse,  in  which  he  speaks  of  this  first  machine,  and  says:  "The  reg- 
ister makes  but  one  kind  of  marks,  to  wit,  V — this  can  be  varied  two 
ways,  by  intervals,  thus:  VVVV,  signifying  one,  two,  three,  etc., 
and  by  reversing  thus :  A."  These  marks  were  produced  by  a  pend- 
ulum motion,  which  was  wholly  different  from  any  thing  in  the  later 
invention,  the  latter  being  the  first  used  in  practical  telegraphing. 
He  exhibited  his  original  machine  to  his  friends  and  the  fame  of  it 
went  abroad.  It  was  not  until  the  winter  of  1837-8,  however,  that 
an  improved  apparatus  was  completed  and  exhibited  at  the  New  York 
University.  There  had  now  been  provided  two  instruments,  one 
for  each  end  of  the  wire,  enabling  him  to  send  dispatches  and  receive 
answers. 

We  have  seen  that  Prof.  Morse  returned  from  Europe  on  the  Sully 
in  1832,  and  that  by  1835  he  had,  with  his  own  hands,  constructed 
the  rude  instrument  already  referred  to.  This  was  shown  to  his 
friends  at  his  rooms  in  the  New  York  University.  Over  thirty  years 
afterwards,  at  the  Delmonico  banquet,  on  the  evening  of  December  29, 
1868 — a  magnificent  entertainment  was  given  by  the  solid  and  wealthy 
men  of  the  city  of  New  York  as  a  compliment  to  Prof.  Morse — 


244  SAMUEL     F.      B.      MORSE. 

Chief  Justice  Chase,  of  the  United  States  Supreme  Court,  presiding, 
Prof.  Morse,  in  referring  to  these  first  efforts  remarked:  "In  1835, 
according  to  the  concurrent  testimony  of  many  witnesses,  it  lisped 
its  first  accents  and  automatically  recorded  them,  a  few  blocks  only 
distant  from  the  spot  from  which  I  now  address  you.  It  was  a  feeble 
child  indeed,  ungainly  in  its  dress,  stammering  in  its  speech;  but  it 
had  then  all  the  distinctive  features  and  characteristics  of  its  present 
manhood.  It  found  a  friend — an  efficient  friend — in  Mr.  Alfred  Vail, 
of  New  Jersey,  who,  with  his  father  and  brother,  furnished  the  means 
to  give  the  child  a  decent  dress  preparatory  to  its  visit  to  the  seat 
of  Government.  These  few  facts  suffice  here  to  indicate  the  birth  of 
the  telegraph,"  etc. 

It  is  true  that  Alfred  Vail  was  "an  efficient  friend,"  and  that  through 
him,  his  wealthy  father,  Stephen  Vail,  and  his  brother,  George  Vail, 
were  induced  to  advance  considerable  sums  of  money  in  aid  of  the 
venture.  But  it  would  have  been  more  magnanimous  if  in  those 
last  days  of  the  aged  savan  he  had  stated  the  precise  facts,  and  given 
Alfred  Vail  the  full  credit  to  which  he  was  justly  entitled.  He  would 
thus  have  generously  raised,  a  fitting  monument  to  the  memory  of 
one  who  had  years  before  "been  gathered  to  his  fathers"  in  the 
prime  of  manhood,  who  had  with  wondrous  modesty  and  singular 
reticence  refrained  from  claiming  as  of  his  own  invention  the  im- 
proved Morse  instrument  and  alphabet,  simply  because  he  had,  while 
a  student  under  Prof.  Morse,  at  New  York  University,  become  inter- 
ested as  a  friend  in  the  experiments  which  Morse  was  pursuing,  and 
at  an  early  date  had  entered  into  a  contract  whereby  he  agreed  "to 
devote  his  personal  services  and  skill  in  constructing  and  bringing 
to  perfection  the  mechanical  parts  of  said  invention,  until  the  same 
shall  be  made  the  property  of  the  United  States,  or  otherwise  be 
disposed  of  by  said  proprietors,  and  without  charge  for  such  personal 
services  to  the  other  proprietors,  and  for  their  common  benefit;  said 
service  to  be  in  accordance  with  the  general  direction  and  super- 
vision of  said  Morse."  By  virtue  of  this  Mr.  Vail  became  an  owner 
of  one-eighth  the  patent,  at  the  same  period  that  Prof.  Gale,  also  of 
the  University,  became,  for  his  scientific  contributions  and  skill,  an 
owner  of  one-sixteenth  of  the  patent. 

Prof.  Gale,  in  the  case  of  Smith  vs.  Downing,  presented  diagrams 
of  the  veritable  Morse  Machine  of  '36,  as  it  passed  September  '37  into 
Mr.  Vail's  hands  for  an  entire  mechanical  reconstruction  throughout, 
to  speak  a  language  not  wholly  unknown  to  the  first  machine,  but 
to  perform  entirely  new  functions,  and  to  produce  an  entirely  new 
system  of  signs  and  letters,  which  the  first  by  its  structure,  was  phys- 
ically incapable  of  being  made  to  speak.  Alfred  Vail  first  produced 
in  the  new  instrument  the  first  available  Morse  machine.  He  invented 
the  first  "  combination  of  the  horizontal  lever  motion  to  actuate  a 
pen  or  pencil,  or  style,"  and  the  entirely  new  telegraphic  alphabet 
of  dots,  spaces,  and  marks  which  it  necessitated,  not  long  before 


THE    "MORSE    MACHINE.  245 

September,  1837,  the  month  that  the  old  instrument  passed  into 
his  hands  for  reconstruction.  His  more  perfect  invention  of  a  steel 
style  upon  a  lever  which  could  strike  into  the  paper  as  it  was  drawn 
onward  over  a  ground  roller,  and  emboss  upon  it  the  same  alphabetic 
characters,  was  not  invented  until  1844,  about  the  time  the  first  line 
of  telegraph  began  to  operate  between  Baltimore  and  Washington. 
This  instrument,  somewhat  transformed,  still  holds  its  place  (1872) 
as  practically  the  best  ever  invented,  and  after  standing  all  imag- 
inable tests  is  not  likely  to  be  jostled  from  its  firm  pedestal  of  fame 
in  the  "  MORSE  system." 

Prof.  Morse  never  claimed  to  be  the  unaided  inventor  of  the  magnetic 
telegraph.  Indeed,  in  his  sworn  testimony  before  the  Court  in  Phila- 
delphia, in  the  case  of  French  et  al,  vs.  Rogers  et  a/,  in  reply  to  nu- 
merous questions  of  defendant's  counsel,  he  disclaimed  being  "  the 
inventor  of  the  electro-magnet;"  "the  discoverer  that  the  electro- 
magnet will  attract  an  armature  of  steel  or  iron;"  or  "the  first 
inventor  of  the  combination  of  an  electro-magnet  with  a  circuit  of 
conductors."  He  disclaimed  having  been  "the  first  to  discover  that 
the  breaking  and  closing  of  an  electric  or  galvanic  circuit,  having 
within  it  a  generator  of  electricity  or  galvanism,  would  cause  an  alter- 
nate flow  and  cessation  of  a  current  of  electricity  or  galvanism." 
He  disclaimed  being  "the  first  to  discover  that  when  an  electro- 
magnet is  connected  with  and  forms  part  of  such  circuit,  the  magnet 
will  be  made  attractive  and  non-attractive  as  the  current  flows  or 
ceases  to  flow." 

He  disclaimed  being  "the  first  inventor  of  an  apparatus  consisting 
of  a  galvanic  battery,  or  other  generator  of  electricity  or  galvanism, 
a  metallic  circuit  of  electric  or  galvanic  conductors,  an  electro- magnet 
with  an  armature  and  a  device  for  closing  or  breaking  such  circuit, 
or  that  he  was  the  inventor  of  the  combination  generally,  or  of  any 
of  its  parts  in  the  abstract,  but  he  did  claim  that  he  was  "the  first 
inventor  of  the  combination  of  those  parts,  as  described  in  my  patent 
and  used  in  my  telegraph."*  In  the  case  of  Smith  vs.  Downing,  in 
Boston,  and  of  Morse  vs.  O'Reilly,  at  Louisville,  Prof.  Morse  just  as 
emphatically  disclaimed  the  invention  of  the  various  parts  of  the  tele- 
graph, and  claimed  only  the  first  combination  of  those  parts  (admitted 
to  have  been  invented  by  others)  for  a  particular  purpose,  and  upon 
this  ground  only  were  his  patents  maintained. 

The  people  of  the  United  States  are  under  lasting  obligations  to 
Mr.  Henry  O'Reilly  for  years  of  pioneer  labor  in  constructing  and 
organizing  about  8,000  miles  of  their  great  lines  of  telegraph.  Prof. 
Gale,  in  the  case  of  Morse  vs.  O'Reilly,  testified  that  when  he  first 
saw  Morse's  apparatus,  in  1836,  it  was  quite  feeble  and  inefficient, 
but  that  it  became  powerful  when  Morse,  at  his  suggestion,  greatly 
increased  the  power  of  the  battery  and  multiplied  by  ten  the  turns 

*  This  patent  was  issued,  of  course,  after  Vail  became  his  associate. 


246  SAMUEL    F.     B.     MORSE. 

of  wire  on  the  arms  of  the  magnet ;  and  Prof.  Gale  acknowledges 
that  he  learned  this  from  Henry's  experiments.  There  can  be  no 
doubt  that  Steinheil,  in  Germany,  Wheatstone,  Cooke  and  Bain,  in 
England,  and  Morse,  House,  and  O'Reilly,  in  America,  were  all  dis- 
ciples of  Prof.  Joseph  Henry,  now  President  of  the  "Smithsonian 
Institute,"  Washington  City. 

Professor  Henry's  experiments  with  the  Electro-magnet  aided  Pro- 
fessors Gale  and  Morse  in  their  investigations,  while  Mr.  Vail's 
thorough  work  in  perfecting  the  new  alphabet  and  machine  gave  to 
the  world  the  best  practical  telegraph  yet  known.  Morse's  original 
instrument  could  not  have  successfully  performed  the  labor  required. 

There  seems  to  be  little  doubt  that  Dr.  Barlow,  the  English  scien- 
tist, invented  a  telegraph  in  1825,  which  was  mechanically  nearly  the 
same  as  that  afterwards  devised  by  Morse  upon  the  Sully.  But  he 
failed  for  the  same  reason  that  Morse's  first  efforts  failed,  because  the 
method  of  sending  the  fluid  through  long  lines  was  not  known  to  the 
inventor.  Indeed  it  had  not  been  discovered  in  1825.  Neither 
knew  how  to  propel  the  galvanic  current  to  a  distance,  and  neither 
knew  how  to  generate  the  needful  magnetic  forces  at  a  distance. 
Each  failed  to  construct  a  practical  electro-magnetic  telegraph  that 
could  be  worked.  Prof.  Morse  could  not  send  more  than  from  "  fif- 
teen to  forty  feet"  from  the  operator — as  stated  in  1856,  by  Prof. 
Gale,  who  on  the  day  upon  which  that  conversation  occurred,  in  the 
winter  of  1836  suggested  modifications  to  him,  that  resulted  in  send- 
ing the  current  of  electricity  through  as  many  hundred  feet  of  wire. 

In  a  letter  dated  March  3^,  1872,  Prof.  Gale  said:  "Was  Morse's 
invention  the  achievement  of  a  machine,  or  was  it  the  discovery  of  a 
law  or  principle  of  science?  The  plain  answer  is,  that  the  Morse  in- 
vention is  a  machine,  and  nothing  more,  nor  has  it  been  claimed  by 
any  body  else.  [Is  it  not  a  pity  that  Alfred  Vail  was  so  modest,  and 
cared  so  much  more  for  others  than  others  have  since  cared  for  him?] 
Henry's  achievement  in  this  relation  is  the  discovery  of  a  scientific 
law  or  principle,  which  is,  that  a  certain  arrangement  of  electric  con- 
ductors increases  electric  force  to  send  electric  currents  through  long 
distances  adaptable  to  telegraphic  purposes.  Now,  as  Professor  Henry 
did  not  invent  a  telegraphic  machine,  and  Morse  did  not  discover  a 
law  or  principle  in  electricity,  there  can  be  no  conflict  between  those 
two  honorable  gentlemen."  In  the  same  letter  Prof.  Gale  said  fur- 
ther: "When  I  first  saw  the  machine  (in  1836)  the  steed  was  already 
harnessed,  and  only  needed  breaking  in;"  but  he  omitted  facts  which 
should  have  been  given,  describing  the  old  Morse  machine,  and  re- 
specting the  origin  of  what  is  now  known  as  the  Morse  instrument, 
stating  rather  carelessly,  we  think,  that  "Morse  invented  the  form 
of  the  various  parts  of  his  machine,"  and  so  failed  to  furnish  the 
public  correct  information.  This  was,  to  say  the  least,  disingenuous, 
and  really  very  much  more  than  had  been  said  by  Prof.  Morse  at  the 
Delmonico  banquet,  and  again  at  the  Academy  of  Music  on  the  even- 


THE     OLD     AND     NEW     INSTRUMENTS. 


247 


ing  of  the  day  on  which  his  statue  was  unveiled  at  Central  Park. 
So  much  for  the  truth  of  history.* 

We  now  come  again  to  our  narrative  of  Prof.  Morse's  early  move- 
ments in  connection  with  his  invention.  They  were  days,  months, 
and  years  of  tribulation,  sore  disappointment  and  trial.  During  this 
same  year,  1838,  Steinheil  in  Bavaria,  and  Wheatstone  in  England, 
had  separately  announced  the  invention  of  a  telegraph  by  themselves, 
and  their  governments  properly  lent  them  assistance  in  perfecting 
their  apparatus.  William  Cullen  Bryant,  speaking  of  this  period, 
says:  "  Morse  remarked  to  me,  with  some  despondency,  '  Wheatstone 
and  Steinheil,  who  have  electric  telegraphs,  are  furnished  the  means 
of  bringing  forward  their  methods,  while  to  my  invention,  of  earlier 
date  than  theirs,  my  country  seems  to  show  no  favor.'"  It  is  obvious 
that  this  republic  never  appeared  to  less  advantage  in  the  eyes  of 
history  than  during  the  period  when  Morse  struggled  with  ignorance, 
skepticism,  and  derision  for  the  privilege  of  making  his  native  land 
renowned. 

Surprised  by  the  announcements  of  the  British  and  German  tele- 
graphs, and  fearing  that  he  was  to  lose  the  prize  for  which  he  was 
struggling,  by  what  he  felt  sure  was  a  later  device,  he  promptly  went 
to  England,  and  met  Wheatstone  upon  his  own  ground.  He  found 
that  Wheatstone's  telegraph  was  far  inferior  to  his  own,  and  that  its 
birth  was  at  least  four  years  later;  and  he  at  once  applied  for  a 
patent.  He  proved  by  numerous  witnesses  the  priority  of  his  inven- 
tion, and  then  demonstrated  that  it  was  superior  and  altogether  dif- 
ferent ;  but  he  was  refused  a  patent  on  the  ground  that  a  description 
of  the  invention  had  been  previously  published  in  England, — the 
article  from  the  Journal  of  Commerce,  copied  by  a  London  scientific 
magazine  detailing  some  of  the  results  of  Morse's  experiments  and 
discoveries.  In  France  he  received  a  useless  brevet  d'invention;  in 
other  countries — nothing.  He  returned  home  in  the  fall,  and,  some- 
what depressed  by  his  failures,  applied  again  to  Congress. 

The  next  four  years  were  years  of  hope  and  despair,  of  appeal, 
ridicule,  and  fruitless  struggle.  He  laid  aside  his  brush  entirely,  and 
gave  his  whole  soul  to  the  telegraph.  Session  after  session  he  perse- 
vered, and  year  after  year  he  met  with  rebuff  and  defeat.  His  bill 

*  We  have  been  led  into  an  investigation  of  the  facts  connected  with  this  case 
because  a  friend  of  ours  was  present  while  Prof.  Morse  and  Alfred  Vail  were  ex- 
perimenting at  Speedwell,  near  Morristown,  N.  J.,  early  in  the  autumn  of  1837, 
and  were  using  a  mile  or  more  of  bonnet  wire,  wound  round  a  reel,  and  registering 
with  the  machine,  described  as  having  a  pendulum  motion,  and  making  the  V  shaped 
character,  named  in  the  early  letter  of  Prof.  Morse  to  the  N.  Y.  Journal  of  Com- 
merce, from  which  we  have  previously  giveh  an  extract.  There  is  indisputable 
evidence  as  to  the  entire  truth  of  all  that  has  been  asserted  respecting  the  paternity 
of  what  must  be  known  hereafter,  as  heretofore,  as  the  Morse  Machine.  It  was 
invented  by  Alfred  Vail,  and  made  at  his  father's  Foundry  and  Machine  Shop*,  at 
Speedwell,  Morris  County,  New  Jersey.  For  illustrations  and  explanatory  matter 
descriptive  of  these  admirable  instruments,  see  pp.  251-254  inclusive. 


248  SAMUEL    F.    B.     MORSE. 

was  amended  by  Congressional  wits  to  include  a  line  to  the  moon, 
and  to  pay  for  experiments  in  witchcraft,  mesmerism,  and  Millcris-mt 
the  Speaker  refusing  to  rule  out  the  absurd  amendment,  on  the  plea 
that,  "it  would  require  a  scientific  analysis  to  determine  how  far  the 
magnetism  of  mesmerism  was  analogous  to  that  employed  in  tele- 
graphing." 

At  last  came  the  close  of  the  session  of  1842-3.  On  the  evening 
of  March  3,  the  Professor  once  more  gave  up  in  despair,  and  under 
the  fire  of  the  quips  and  jokes  that  greeted  his  bill  left  the  Capitol 
and  returned,  despairing,  to  his  hotel,  resolved  to  return  to  portrait- 
painting  for  funds  to  develop  his  invention.  But  his  friends  stood 
by  him — Ferris,  Kennedy,  Winthrop,  McClay,  and  Wood — and,  in 
the  last  hour  of  the  expiring  session,  by  a  vote  of  89  to  83,  the  bill 
passed,  appropriating  $30,000  for  Morse's  first  line  to  Baltimore. 

We  are  indebted  to  Harper1  s  Monthly  for  the  following  anecdote  : 

"  Morse  made  his  preparations  to  return  to  New  York  next  day,  and 
retiring  to  rest,  sank  into  a  profound  slumber,  from  which  he  did  not 
awake  until  a  late  hour  on  the  following  morning.  But  a  short  time 
after,  while  seated  at  the  breakfast-table,  the  servant  announced  that 
a  lady  desired  to  see  him.  Upon  entering  the  parlor  he  encountered 
-  Miss  Annie  Ellsworth,  the  daughter  of  the  Commissioner  of  Patents, 
whose  face  was  all  aglow  with  pleasure. 

"  I  have  come  to  congratulate  you,"  she  remarked,  as  he  entered 
the  room,  and  approached  to  shake  hands  with  her. 

"To  congratulate  me!"  replied  Mr.  Morse,  "and  for  what?" 

"Why,  upon  the  passage  of  your  bill,  to  be  sure,"  she  replied. 

"You  must  surely  be  mistaken;  for  I  left  at  a  late  hour,  and  its 
fate  seemed  inevitable." 

"Indeed,  I  am  not  mistaken,"  she  rejoined;  "father  remained 
until  the  close  of  the  session,  and  your  bill  was  the  very  last  that  was 
acted  on,  and  I  begged  permission  to  convey  to  you  the  news.  I  am 
so  happy  that  I  am  the  first  Jto  tell  you." 

The  feelings  of  Mr.  Morse  may  be  better  imagined  than  described. 
He  grasped  his  young  companion  warmly  by  the  hand  and  thanked 
her  over  and  over  again  for  the  joyful  intelligence.  "As  a  reward," 
concluded  he,  "  for  being  the  first  bearer  of  the  news,  you  shall  send 
over  the  telegraph  the  first  message  it  conveys." 

"I  will  hold  you  to  that  promise,"  replied  she.     "Remember." 

"Remember,"  responded  Mr.  Morse;  and  they  parted. 

By  the  month  of  May,  1844,  the  whole  line  was  laid,  and  magnets 
and  recording  instruments  were  attached  to  the  ends  of  the  wires  at 
Mount  Clare  Depot,  Baltimore,  and  at  the  Supreme  Court  Chamber, 
in  the  Capitol  at  Washington.  When  the  circuit  was  complete,  and 
the  signal  at  the  one  end  of  the  line  was  responded  to  by  the  operator 
at  the  other,  Mr.  Morse  sent  a  messenger  to  Miss  Ellsworth  to  inform 
her  that  the  telegraph  awaited  her  message.  She  speedily  responded 
to  this,  and  sent  for  transmission  the  following,  which  was  the  first 


FIRST     TELEGRAPHIC     DISPATCH.  249 

formal  dispatch  ever  sent  through  a  telegraphic  wire  connecting  re- 
mote places  with  each  other: 

"WHAT  HATH  GOD  WROUGHT!". 

The  original  of  the  message  is  now  in  the  archives  of  the  Histori- 
cal Society  at  Hartford,  Connecticut. 

The  first  important  information  conveyed  through  the  Telegraph  was 
the  announcement  of  the  nomination  of  James  K.  Polk,  for  the  pres- 
idency, by  the  Baltimore  Democratic  Convention,  May  27th,  1844. 
The  news,  published  in  the  evening  paper,  was  received  with  the 
greatest  incredulity,  which  was  rendered  almost  universal,  even  among 
the  friends  of  the  enterprise,  by  the  fact  that  the  nomination  was  a 
most  improbable  one.  Morse's  fortune  was  made  when  the  morning 
train  on  the  new  railroad,  almost  as  great  a  wonder,  brought  the 
confirmation. 

In  1846,  when  there  were  less  than  a  thousand  miles  of  telegraph 
wire  on  the  continent,  Morse  wrote:  "When  all  that  transpires  of 
public  interest  at  New  Orleans,  St.  Louis,  Albany,  New  York,  Char- 
leston, Boston,  and  Washington  shall  be  simultaneously  known  in 
each  and  all  these  places  together;  when  all  the  agents  of  the  Gov- 
ernment are  in  instantaneous  communication  with  head-quarters ; 
when  the  several  departments  can  at  once  know  the  actual  existing 
condition  of  their  remotest  agencies,  and  transmit  at  any  moment 
the  necessary  orders  to  meet  an  exigency,  then  will  some  estimate  be 
formed  of  the  powers  and  advantages  of  the  Magnetic  Telegraph." 

Thenceforward  the  Morse  telegraph  went  rapidly  forward  to  take 
possession  of  the  earth,  first  spreading  over  America  and  then  \vrest- 
ing  continental  Europe  from  every  rival.  The  reader  of  this  sketch 
will  have  seen  already  that  Morse  was  not  the  first  inventor  of  a 
telegraph,  for  rude  telegraphing  was  practiced  centuries  before  he  was 
born.  He  was  not  even  the  inventor  of  the  electric  telegraph,  for 
Sommering  had  constructed  and  operated  one  while  Morse  was  in 
college.  All  that  Morse's  friends  claim  —  and  it  is  enough — is  that 
he  was  the  inventor  of  the  first  practical  electro-magnetic  recording 
telegraph. 

Wheatstone's  was  greatly  inferior,  requiring  a  number  of  wires  and 
delivering  slowly.  That  of  Prof.  A.  C.  Steinheil,  of  Munich,  was 
much  better  than  Wheatstone's,  being  constructed  upon  the  same 
principle  as  that  of  Morse,  but  rather  more  complicated,  and  more 
liable  to  get  out  of  repair.  Steinheil  showed  himself  a  true  child  of 
science  by  conceding  the  superiority  of  Morse's  system,  and  at  a 
convention  in  Germany,  in  1851,  for  the  adoption  of  a  uniform  sys- 
tem, he  magnanimously  recommended  that  of  Morse  as  being  the 
simplest  and  best  in  the  world,  and  by  his  advice  it  was  adopted 
throughout  Germany.  This  generous  conduct  contrasts  strikingly 
with  that  of  Wheatstone,  especially  when  it  is  remembered  that  the 
latter  borrowed  his  invention  from  a  young  Englishman  named 
William  F.  Cooke,  who,  in  1836,  brought  to  England  a  system  of 


250  SAMUEL     F.     B.     MORSE. 

telegraphing  by  the  deflection  of  the  needle,  which  had  occurred  to 
him  while  a  student  in  Heidelberg. 

The  superiority  of  Morse's  system  is  sufficiently  attested  by  the 
fact  that  it  has  been  universally  adopted  by  the  whole  world  except 
Great  Britain.  There  are  but  a  few  miles  of  any  other  telegraph  on 
the  entire  continents  of  America,  Europe,  and  Asia.  It  possesses 
Russia,  Italy,  France,  Germany,  Austria,  and  Spain ;  Egypt  and 
Africa;  Turkey  and  Greece;  India,  Australia,  China  and  Japan. 
Every  other  system  vanishes  from  the  competition.  Honors  were 
showered  upon  Morse  by  every  European  nation.  No  member  of 
the  English-speaking  race  ever  received  so  many  tokens  of  royal 
approval,  and  so  many  marks  of  distinction.  Yale  was  first  to  recog- 
nize her  son;  she  conferred  the  degree  of  LL.D.  in  1848.  During 
the  same  year  the  Sultan  of  Turkey  decorated  him  with  the  Nishan 
Jftichar  (the  order  of  glory),  set  in  diamonds.  The  kings  of  Prussia 
and  of  Wurtemberg,  and  the  Emperor  of  Austria  awarded  to  him 
gold  medals  for  his  achievements  in  science.  In  1856  Napoleon 
presented  to  him  the  cross  of  chevalier  of  the  Legion  of  Honor ;  while, 
in  1857,  he  received  from  the  King  of  Denmark  the  cross  of  Knight 
of  the  Dannebrog,  and  in  1858,  from  the  Queen  of  Spain,  the  cross 
of  Knight-commander  of  the  order  of  Isabella,  the  Catholic.  In 
1857  he  received  his  most  substantial  honor  from  various  European 
nations,  whose  representatives  met,  at  the  invitation  of  Napoleon,  in 
Paris  to  devise  means  for  giving  the  great  inventor  a  collective  testi- 
monial. In  that  conference  were  the  embassadors  of  France,  Russia, 
Sweden,  Belgium,  Austria,  Sardinia,  Tuscany,  Rome,  and  Turkey, 
and  they  closed  by  forwarding  to  their  benefactor  a  vote  of  thanks 
and  a  purse  of  400,000  francs  ($75,000).  But  Morse  was  now  in 
little  need  of  money;  the  telegraph  had  already  begun  to  make  him 
rich. 

During  the  twenty  years  following  1850,  he  was  the  recipient  of 
frequent  testimonials  and  ovations.  In  1856  the  telegraph  companies 
of  Great  Britain  united  to  give  him  a  banquet  in  London,  at  which 
Cooke,  the  inventor  of  Wheatstone's  telegraph,  presided.  Two  years 
later  a  similar  banquet  was  given  him  in  Paris. 

Submarine  telegraphy  also  originated  with  Prof.  Morse,  who,  in 
company  with  Samuel  Colt,  laid  the  first  cable,  in  1842,  across  New 
York  Harbor — winning  the  gold  medal  of  the  American  Institute. 

Mr.  Frederick  N.  Gisborne  and  Cyrus  W.  Field  finally  organized 
the  sentiment  which  carried  the  Atlantic  Cable  to  completion  ;  but  as 
early  as  August  10,  1843,  six  months  before  the  first  telegraph  line 
was  put  up,  Morse  wrote  to  John  C.  Spencer,  then  Secretary  of  the 
Treasury,  detailing  the  results  of  his  submarine  experiments  in  New 
York  Harbor,  to  show  the  power  of  electricity  to  communicate  at 
great  distances,  and  adding  at  the  close,  in  words  which  were  the 
prophecy  of  Science,  "  The  practical  inference  from  this  law  is,  that 
telegraphic  communication  on  the  electro-magnetic  plan  may,  with  cer- 


MORSES     RECORDING     INSTRUMENT. 


251 


FIG.  i. 


tainty,  be  established  across  the  Atlantic  Ocean.  Startling  as  this  may 
now  seem,  I  am  confident  the  time  will  come  when  this  project  will  be 
realized !"  This  was  about  eleven  years  before  the  great  scheme  en- 
listed the  skill  and  energies  of  Cyrus  W.  Field. 

Morse's  Recording  Instrument,  or,  as  it  is  shortly  called,  the  'Morse' 
or  'Register,'  is  shown  in  fig.  i.  L  is  the  line-wire,  and  E  the  earth- 
wire,  conveying  the  current  from  the  distant  station.  The  current 
thus  sent  traverses  the  coils  of  the  electro-magnet,  MM',  the  armature, 
A,  of  which  is  in  consequence  drawn  down.  A  is  attached  to  the 
lever  //',  moving 
round  the  axes  k. 
By  the  attraction 
of  A,  the  end  /'  is 
lowered,  and 
brought  against 
the  stud  «.  The 
armature  must  not 
touch  the  soft  iron 
of  the  electro-mag- 
net  on  being 
drawn  down,  for 
if  it  did,  it  would 
stick,  and  would 
not  be  instantly 

released  when  the  current  ceases.  When  the  end  /'  is  lowered,  the 
end  /  is  raised ;  //',  at  its  inner  end,  carries  a  steel  point  or  style,  /, 
which  by  the  upward  motion  is  brought  against  a  strip  of  paper,  PP7, 
carried  towards  F  by  the  rollers  rr'  set  in  motion  by  clock-work,  C, 
quite  independently  of  electricity.  The  clock-work  is  liberated  or 
stopped  by  the  switch  S.  The  paper  is  supplied  from  a  large  roll  or 
bobbin,  above  the  instrument,  which  turns  round  as  the  rollers  de- 
mand. So  long  as  the  style  is  elevated  the  paper  strip  is  made  by 
the  clock-work  to  rub  against  it.  A  line  is  thus  embossed  on  its  upper 
surface.  To  facilitate  the  doing  of  this  there  is  a  groove  in  the  upper 
roller,  opposite  the  style.  When  the  current  from  the  distant  station 
ceases,  the  lever  //'  is  pulled  back  to  its  original  position  by  the  spring 
s,  and  the  style  falls  away  from  the  paper.  To  prevent  it  falling  too 
far,  another  stud,  m,  lies  on  the  other  side  of  the  axis.  When  the 
circuit  is  again  closed,  the  style  once  more  marks  the  paper,  and  thus 
the  lever  keeps  oscillating  under  the  opposing  actions  of  the  magnet- 
ism developed  by  the  transmitted  current,  and  the  elasticity  of  the 
spring,  s.  The  time  that  the  style  remains  elevated,  determines  the 
kind  of  mark  on  the  paper.  If  it  is  nearly  momentary,  a  dot  is 
imprinted ;  for  a  longer  time,  a  dash.  We  have  thus  the  combinations 
of  an  alphabet  in  the  combination  of  dots  and  dashes.  Thus,  A  is 
a  dot  and  a  dash  (.  — );  B,  a  dash  and  three  dots  ( — .  .  .  ),  etc. 
The  alphabet  is  so  arranged  that  the  letters  occurring  most  frequently 


252  SAMUEL     F.      B.      MORSE. 

are  more  easily  signaled ;  thus,  E  is  one  dot ;  T,  one  dash.  An 
expert  telegrapher  can  transmit  from  thirty  to  forty  words  a  minute 
by  this  instrument  on  a  land-line  of  between  200  and  300  miles. 
Several  modifications  of  Morse's  telegraph  have  been  made,  the  chief 
one  being  the  substitution  of  ink-marking  for  embossing.  The  beau- 
tiful instruments  of  Siemens  and  Halske  are  of  this  kind. 

A  clerk  that  has  been  well  accustomed  to  Morse's  telegraph,  in 
transcribing,  seldom  looks  to  the  paper.  The  mere  clicking  of  the 
lever  becomes  a  language  perfectly  intelligible  to  him.  He  need 
therefore  only  to*look  to  the  record  when  he  may  have  heard  indis- 
tinctly. Sir  Charles  Bright  does  away  with  the  recording  instrument 
altogether,  and  substitutes  two  bells,  one  muffled,  the  other  clear, 
sounded  by  a  hammer  oscillating  between  them.  The  bells  speak  a 
telegraphic  language  as  quick  as  the  clerk  can  write.  It  is  stated  in 
favor  of  Bright's  system  (which  is  used  by  the  Magnetic  Company 
in  Britain)  that  the  signals  are  all  as  it  were  dots  in  Morse's  instru- 
ment, and  so  take  less  time  than  dots  and  dashes.  Recording  instru- 
ments are  generally  considered  preferable  to  instruments  which  merely 
signal,  as  they  fix  any  fault  of  transmission  or  copying  on  the  party 
at  fault.  Acoustic  signaling,  again,  is  preferable  to  ocular  signaling, 
a  person  can  hear  and  write  much  more  easily  than  see  and  write. 

Transmitting  Key. — Let  us  now  transfer  our  attention  to  the  distant 
station,  to  see  how  the  current  is  transmitted  from  it.  This  is  done 
by  the  transmitting  key,  shown  in  fig.  2.  A  brass  lever,  //,  moves 
round  the  axis  A.  On  opposite  sides  of  the  axis,  two  nipples  of 
platinum,  m,  «,  are  soldered  to  its  lower  sides.  The  nipple  m  is  called 
the  hammer.  Below  «  is  the  stop  anvil,  b,  tipped  with  platinum, 
which  is  in  connection  with  the  earth-wire  E.  Below  the  hammer, 
m,  lies  the  anvil  a,  the  nipple  of  which  is  likewise  of  platinum ;  a  is 
connected  by  the  wire  C  with  one  of  the  poles  of  the  sending  battery, 
FlG  a  generally  the  copper  pole. 

\L  Hf — ^       When  the  lever  is  left  to  itself, 

„     \  it        n  anc^  ^  are  m  contact  under 

**^        the    force    of    the    spring   s. 

^5 '        When  the  hand  presses  on  the 

BB_^_<*j"v"  ^_  ebonite  (insulating)  handle  H, 

"=•"^1  contact  is  broken  at  n  and  b, 

and  established  at  m  and  a. 
Three  wires  are  in  connection 
with  the  key,  E  and  C  just  named,  and  L,  the  line-wire  from  the 
distant  station  connected  with  the  axis  pillar,  and  therefore  with  the 
lever.  When  the  key  is  in  the  receiving  position,  that  shown  in  the 
figure,  the  current  from  the  sending  station  takes  the  route  L,  A,  /, 
«,  b,  E,  the  Morse,  and  then  to  earth.  When  H  is  pressed  down, 
the  key  is  in  the  sending  position,  and  transmits  the  battery  current 
by  C,  a,  m,  A,  L,  to  the  distant  station.  The  play  of  the  anvil  and 
hammer  need  not  be  more  than  one-tenth  of  an  inch.  This  is  more 


fc          j 

> 


THE     BATTERY. 


253 


than  sufficient  for  completely  breaking  the  current,  and  it  allows  of 
speedy  manipulation. 

The  Battery. — The  batteries  employed  are  in  Britain  almost  uni- 
versally Daniell's.  Constancy  and  certainty  of  action  is  what  is 
most  wanted  in  the  battery,  and  this  Daniell's  battery  yields.  In 
Germany,  Bunsen's  battery  is  also  used,  charged  with  diluted  sulphuric 
acid,  the  carbon  being  immersed  in  a  mixture  of  i  of  acid  to  10 
of  water,  and  the  zinc  in  a  mixture  of  i  to  20.  When  batteries 
have  to  be  moved  about  much,  sand  is  put  in  to  keep  the  liquid 
from  spilling.  The  number  of  cells  employed  varies  with  the  dis- 
tance, the  insultation  of  the  line,  and  the  delicacy  of  the  instruments. 
The  register,  as  afterwards  mentioned,  is  seldom  worked  directly  by 
the  transmitted  current,  but  by  relay.  To  work  a  relay  with  good 
insulation,  60  Daniell's  cells  will  suffice  for  a  distance  of  300  miles. 
For  less  distances,  less  of  course  will  suffice.  For  short  circuits, 
where  the  resistance  is  small  and  current  strong,  small  cells  soon 
exhaust  themselves ;  large  cells  therefore  must  be  used  to  maintain  the 
supply.  Magneto-electricity  is  also  employed  as  a  source  of  the  cur- 
rent. This  answers  well  'on  short  circuits,  or  for  private  telegraphs, 
but  experience  has  proved  that  the  galvanic  battery  is  by  far  the  most 
advantageous  source  of  electricity  for  extensive  telegraphic  work. 

How  Two  Stations  arc  connected  together. — The  manner  in  which 
two  stations  are  'joined  up'  on  Morse's  system  is  shown  in  fig.  3. 
B  and  Bt  are 

the  batteries  at  ••  FlG- 3- 

the  stations 
S,  St;  k,  /fare 
the  transmit- 
ting keys;  «, 
;/,  the  regis- 
ters j  g,  g',  the 
galvanometers; 
LL,  the  line- 
wire  insulated 
on  posts;  P, 
P,,  the  earth- 
plates.  When  the  key  k,  at  the  station  S,  which  is  here  represented 
as  the  sending  station,  is  depressed,  the  current  from  the  battery  B 
takes  the  following  course.  From  the  copper  pole  C,  of  the  battery 
B,  it  goes  to  the  anvil  of  k,  passes  through  k  to  the  galvanometer  g, 
which  having  traversed,  it  goes  into  the  line  LL  to  the  receiving  sta- 
tion S,,  traverses  the  galvanometer,  the  key  k ',  the  coils  of  the  register 
;/;  thence  it  goes  'to  earth'  at  the  plate  P2,  returns  by  the  ground 
to  P  at  the  sending  station,  and  thus  finally  reaches  the  zinc  pole 
Z  of  the  battery  B.  At  the  station  S,  b  and  n  are  out  of  circuit ;  and 
at  S,,  If  and  battery  B,  are  out  of  circuit ;  n  is  thrown  out  of  circuit, 
because  its  coil  offers  a  resistance  equal  to  several  miles  of  the  line- 


254 


SAMUEL    F.     B.     MORSE. 


wire,  and  it  is  requisite  to  keep  down  the  resistance  to  the  minimum. 
If  it  were  in  circuit,  both  registers  could  print  simultaneously,  but 
that  is  not  necessary,  one  record  at  the  receiving  station  being 
enough.  The  sender  would  thus  have  no  idea  as  to  whether  his  mes- 
sage had  told  or  not,  did  not  the  motions  of  the  needle  of  the  gal- 
vanometer, g,  reveal  the  currents  put  in  circuit.  The  galvanometer 
also  shows  the  presence  of  earth-currents  on  the  line.  If  k  were  left 
to  itself,  and  k  depressed,  the  station  Sa  would  then  be  the  sending, 
and  S  the  receiving  station,  and  the  connections  would  be  exactly  as 
shown  in  the  figure,  only  at  opposite  stations. 

Suppose  the  clerk  at  S  wishes  to  telegraph  to  S,,  he  depresses  the 
key  k  several  times,  so  as  to  send  a  series  of  dots  and  dashes  giving 
the  name  of  the  station.  The  attention  of  S,  is  first  arrested  by  the 
clicking  of  the  armature  of  the  Morse.  He  thereupon  turns  the 
switch  S  (fig.  i),  and  sets  the  clock-work-in  motion,  and  sends  back 
to  S  that  he  is  ready,  and  the  printing  thereupon  begins.  When  both 
keys  are  depressed,  the  whole  circuit  is  broken,  so  that  when  both 
sender  and  receiver  have  their  hands  on  their  respective  keys,  no 
message  can  be  sent.  One  might  fancy  that  confusion  would  arise 
from  cross  messages,  but  clerks  soon  get  over  this  inconvenience,  and 
communicate  back  and  forward  with  perfect  facility.  There  is  a  code 
of  working  signals  to  indicate  the  kind  of  message,  'repeat,'  'under- 
stand,' etc.,  besides  numerous  recognized  contractions.  To  arrest  the 
attention  of  attendants,  the  current  is  sometimes  made  to  ring  an 
alarm  bell. 

The  Morse  telegraph  is  noted  for  its  surpassing  simplicity.  The 
signs  for  the  letters  of  the  English  alphabet  (which  are  variously 
modified  to  adapt  them  to  other  alphabets),  and  for  the  numerals 
and  punctuation  marks,  are  as  follows,  the  most  used  being  the 
simplest  : 

LETTERS. 


A-  — 

B 

C--  - 

D 

E- 
F 

i 

2 


Period  

Comma          

Interrogation 


G  
H  
I   -- 

T 

M  
N—  - 
O-  - 
P  - 

S  -- 
T  — 
U-- 
V  -  - 

— 

J 

K  

Q  

W-- 



3  

NUMERALS. 

I  

1  = 



. 

PUNCTUATION 

o  — 

Y  ---- 
Z  ---- 
&-  --- 


Exclamation 

Quotation       

Parenthesis 


The  income  derived  from  the  telegraph  began  soon  after  1846,  to 
place  Morse  in  affluence.      He  now  enjoyed  a  life  of  such  prosperity 


ERECTION     OF      STATUE.  255 

as  is  rarely  allotted  to  man.  His  dreams  had  all  come  true — except 
the  dream  of  becoming  a  great  painter,  for  his  studies  in  art  had  been 
abruptly  broken  off  before  he  had  attained  that  excellence  for  which 
he  strove.  But  he  lived  to  enjoy  for  his  gigantic  achievement  in 
telegraphy  that  complete  and  unbounded  fame  which  usually  comes 
only  to  posthumous  blossoming.  Wealth  dropped  suddenly  into  his 
hand.  He  received  all  the  honors  generally  accorded  to  dead  heroes 
only.  He  lived  to  see  with  his  own  eyes  the  culmination  of  his 
triumphs,  and  to  hear  with  his  own  ears  the  world's  spontaneous  ac- 
claim. 

After  a  life  of  immense  activity  which  knew  almost  all  that  earth 
can  teach  of  trial  and  adversity,  of  derision  and  poverty,  of  defeat 
and  victory,  Mr.  Morse,  at  the  age  of  seventy,  retired  from  the 
business  perplexities  of  life,  and  devoted  himself  to  the  gratification 
of  the  tastes  of  a  private  gentleman,  and  the  exercise  of  a  generous 
hospitality.  *  In  the  winter  he  lived  at  his  city  residence  in  New  York, 
which  was  as  beautiful  as  a  refined  taste  and  an  ample  fortune  could 
make  it. 

His  country  residence,  situated  in  a  most  picturesque  spot,  amidst 
deep  ravines  and  lofty  forest  trees,  on  the  banks  of  the  Hudson,  two 
miles  south  of  Poughkeepsie,  is  built  in  the  style  of  an  Italian  villa, 
and  is  topped  with  a  high  tower,  and  encircled  with  extensive  piazzas, 
clustering  with  vines  and  flowers.  The  master  of  this  mansion  had 
long  since  taken  to  himself  a  second  wife,  and  was  surrounded  by  a 
family  of  children.  In  this  delightful  spot,  adorned  with  all  the 
chasteness  of  an  artist's  taste,  in  the  midst  of  a  charming  and  affec- 
tionate family,  and  a  large  circle  of  admiring  friends,  the  evening  of 
his  life  was  passed  in  undisturbed  tranquillity.  Occasionally  the  little 
world  of  "  Locust  Grove  "  was  flattered  by  the  announcement  of  the 
completion  of  some  new  telegraphic  enterprise  ;  but  it  soon  subsided 
into  its  customary  channel,  and  moved  along  as  quietly  as  the  dream- 
ing river  that  flowed  languidly  at  its  feet. 

On  June  loth,  1871,  when  Professor  Morse  had  just  passed  his 
eightieth  birthday,  a  bronze  statue  of  heroic  size,  in  his  honor  (by 
B.  M.  Pickett),  was  unveiled  in  Central  Park,  New  York,  on  an 
eminence  a  little  south  of  the  Casino.  Its  inauguration  was  made 
the  occasion  of  a  joyful  assembling  of  telegraphers  from  all  parts  of 
the  United  States. 

A  week  before  the  day  fixed  for  the  ceremonies  there  had  been 
more  applications  for  seats  to  the  evening  reception  than  the  Academy 
of  Music  would  hold.  We  quote  from  the  Journal  of 'the  Telegraph: 

"  As  early  as  June  ;th  familiar  faces  from  distant  cities  began  to 
show  themselves,  and  many  an  old  familiar  name  was  again  named, 
as  we  grasped  hands  that  once  toiled  with  us  in  our  early  labors. 
By  Saturday  morning,  June  loth,  there  were  recorded  delegates  from 
Pennsylvania,  Mississippi,  District  of  Columbia,  Maryland,  Connecti- 
cut, Canada,  Louisiana,  Massachusetts,  Georgia,  Ohio,  Tennessee, 


256  SAMUEL    F.    B.    MORSE. 

Illinois,  New  Jersey,  Iowa,  North  Carolina,  Michigan,  Kentucky,  Cali- 
fornia, Nebraska,  Indiana,  Vermont,  Maine,  Rhode  Island,  West  Vir- 
ginia, Virginia,  Nova  Scotia,  and  Minnesota.  We  speak  the  simple 
truth,  which  is  yet  upon  every  lip,  that  never  was  there  assembled  in  any 
city,  for  any  purpose,  a  finer  looking  or  more  intelligent  class  of  men. 
In  this  we  glory.  As  we  gazed  on  the  vast  assemblage  convened  on  the 
evening  of  the  eventful  day  in  the  Academy  of  Music,  we  felt  that  the  tele- 
graph interests  of  America  were  in  the  hands  of  true  and  noble  men. 

By  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  at  least  ten  thousand  invited 
guests  had  gathered  around  the  pedestal  which  supported  the  veiled 
statue.  Governor  Hoffman,  of  New  York,  welcomed  the  telegraphers 
of  the  Continent  in  fitting  language,  after  which  Governor  Claflin, 
of  Massachussetts,  the  native  state  of  Morse,  threw  aside  the  drapery 
and  displayed  the  statue  to  the  vast  assemblage.  A  tumultuous  out- 
burst of  applause  followed,  the  band  playing  the  "  Star  Spangled 
Banner." 

William  Cullen  Bryant,  the  venerable  poet  and  the  life-long  friend 
of  Morse,  then  paid  his  tribute  to  the  inventor  in  a  brief  address, 
of  which  we  quote  a  single  paragraph  : 

"  But  long  may  it  be,  my  friends — very  long — before  any  such  re- 
semblance of  our  illustrious  friend  shall  be  needed  by  those  who  have 
the  advantage  of  his  acquaintance,  to  refresh  the  image  of  his  form 
and  bearing  as  it  exists  in  their  minds.  Long  may  we  keep  with  us 
what  is  better  than  the  statue — the  noble  original.  Long  may  it  re- 
main among  us  in  a  healthful  and  serene  old  age.  Late,  very  late, 
may  He  who  gave  the  mind  to  which  we  owe  the  grand  discovery 
to-day  commemorated,  recall  it  to  his  more  immediate  presence  that 
it  may  be  employed  in  a  higher  sphere  and  in  a  still  more  beneficial 
activity." 

The  mayor  of  the  city  responded ;  letters  were  read  from  President 
Grant,  the  Governors  of  several  States,  and  one  which  left  London 
at  8  P.  M.,  and  was  read  at  five  minutes  to  four. 

The  reception  given  in  the  evening  was  as  enthusiastic  as  it  well 
could  be.  The  hall  was  densely  crowded.  Cheers  from  the  gentle- 
men and  waving  of  white  handkerchiefs  by  the  ladies  greeted  Pro- 
fessor Morse  as  he  entered,  and  these  were  kept  up  for  a  considerable 
time.  He  gracefully  acknowledged  the  salutation  and  seemed  much 
affected  by  it.  In  the  front  of  the  platform  was  the  speaker's  stand, 
on  either  side  of  which  was  a  magnificent  vase  of  flowers.  In  the 
center  also  stood  a  small  table,  bearing  the  first  telegraphic  register 
ever  employed  on  actual  service  on  the  continent,  and  which  was 
kindly  loaned  by  Mrs.  Alfred  Vail,  of  Morristown,  N.  J.,  whose 
property  it  is. 

Hon.  William  Orton  presided,  and  made  the  welcoming  speech. 
We  quote : 

"  In  few  instances  have  statues  been  erected  to  living  men  in 
token  of  the  gratitude  of  their  fellows  for  benefits  conferred,  enjoyed 


Bronze  Stz 

CIWTKIL  P 


ic  of  Professor  Morse. 


CEREMONIES    AT    UNVEILING      OP      STATUE.         257 

and  appreciated.  Indeed,  gratitude  is  rarely  a  settled  conviction 
pervading  the  public. mind,  and  persisting  in  conferring  honor  where 
honor  is  really  due.  Popular  fancy  is  notoriously  capricious. 
Frenchmen  erected  and  then  demolished  the  statue  of  Louis  XIV. 
On  its  site  was  reared  the  column  of  Austerlitz  to  commemorate  the 
achievements  of  the  first  Napoleon,  and  to  perpetuate  the  glory  of 
France.  Within  a  few  weeks  the  latter  has  been  torn  from  its  base 
in  obedience  to  popular  clamor,  and  the  fragments  of  its  beautiful 
bronzes  have  littered  the  Place  Vendome.  But  Frenchmen  are  not 
exclusively  capricious — nor  Parisians  the  only  image  breakers.  A 
century  ago  loyal  New  Yorkers  erected  a  statue  of  George  the  III. 
Six  years  later,  indignant  patriots  tore  down  the  leaden  effigy,  con- 
verted it  into  bullets  and  fired  them  at  the  soldiers  of  their  king. 
The  glories  they  illustrated  had  been  achieved  through  oppression 
and  suffering,  and  the  devastation  and  ruin  which  mark  the  track  of 
war.  Our  work,  on  the  other  hand — although  in  honor  of  a  man — 
commemorates  an  achievement  which,  in  the  infancy  of  its  results, 
has  already  conferred  inestimable  benefits  upon  the  people  of  more 
than  hal  f  the  globe,  without  having  occasioned  a  pang  of  sorrow  to 
a  single  human  being.  [Cheers.]  If  he  is  entitled  to  be  esteemed 
a  benefactor  who  makes  two  blades  of  grass  to  grow  where  but  one 
grew  before — with  what  honors  shall  we  crown  him  through  whom 
wars  have  been  postponed  and  shortened — peace  promoted  and  ex- 
tended— time  annihilated  and  distance  abolished — and  all  the  highest 
and  noblest  faculties  of  man  multiplied,  extended,  and  enlarged. 
[Applause.]  Wonderful  art !  Most  fortunate  of  artists !  The  love- 
liest tints  that  glow  beneath  the  pencil  will  fade  away;  the  granite 
and  bronze  this  day  reared  will  yield  their  particles  one  by  one  till 
not  a  trace  remains ;  but  the  fame  of  our  artist,  and  the  wonder  of 
his  art  will  go  down  the  ages  with  civilization  and  Christianity,  till 
"  the  earth  shall  be  filled  with  the  knowledge  of  the  glory  of  the 
Lord,  as  the  waters  cover  the  sea."  [Applause.] 

Brief  addresses  were  made  by  Dr.  George  B.  Loring,  on  the  Tele- 
graph and  International  Intercourse  ;  and  Dr.  Samson,  on  the  Tele- 
graph and  Literature;  when  the  band  played  the  "  Morse  Telegraph 
March." 

Mr.  Orton  now  announced  that  the  hour  of  9  P.  M.  had  arrived, 
and  that  all  the  wires  of  America  were  connected  with  the  instrument 
before  him,  and  that  Professor  Morse  would  send  a  message.  It  was 
a  sublime  thought,  that  the  touch  of  a  finger  on  a  tiny  key,  in  the 
New  York  Academy  of  Music,  would  so  soon  vibrate  throughout  the 
continent.  The  audience  seemed  to  see  the  10,000  anxious  faces 
looking  down  on  the  instruments  in  every  town  of  the  new  world, 
waiting  the  expected  sound.  It  caused  intense  silence.  Miss  Sadie 
E.  Cornwell,  a  young  lady  of  much  attractiveness  of  person  and 
manner,  who  had  been  selected  to  transmit  the  message,  was  then 
conducted  to  her  place  by  Mr.  Applebaugh,  and  sent  the  following 

17 


258  SAMUEL     F.     B.     MORSE. 

dispatch,  every    operator  watching  the  manipulation    in   a  stillness 
which  was  most  impressive.     The  message  was  as  follows  : 

GREETING  AND  THANKS  TO  THE  TELEGRAPH  FRATERNITY  THROUGH- 
OUT THE  WORLD.  GLORY  TO  GOD  IN  THE  HIGHEST;  ON  EARTH 
PEACE,  GOOD-WILL  TO  MEN. 

At  the  last  click  of  the  instrument  Professor  Morse,  escorted  by 
Mr.  Orton,  approached  the  table  and  took  his  seat.  As  his  fingers 
touched  the  key,  tremendous  cheers  rung  through  the  house,  but  were 
stopped  by  a  gesture  from  Mr.  Orton.  Again  that  impressive  silence 
fell  on  the  house.  Slowly  the  sounder  struck  "  S.  F.  B.  Morse," 
the  Professor's  hand  fell  from  the  key,  the  entire  audience  rose,  and 
a  wild  storm  of  enthusiasm  swept  through  the  house,  which  was  con- 
tinued for  some  time ;  ladies  waving  their  handkerchiefs,  and  old 
venerable  men  cheering  as  joyously  as  the  youngest.  Professor 
Morse,  visibly  affected,  resumed  his  chair  beside  the  President,  and 
for  several  moments  pressed  his  brow  with  his  hands.  The  whole 
scene  was  thrilling  and  impressive.  The  tableau,  the  aged  happy 
Professor,  Miss  Cornwell,  wreathed  in  smiles,  Mr.  Applebaugh,  ex- 
uberant, furnished  a  subject  for  an  artist.  When  the  excitement  and 
applause  had  subsided,  Mr.  Orton  said  : 

"  Thus  the  father  of  the  Telegraph  bids  farewell  to  his  children." 

The  current  was  then  switched  off  to  an  instrument  behind  the 
scenes. 

Quickly  along  the  wires  came  hundreds  of  responses,  from  half  the 
cities  of  the  earth — from  all  parts  of  America — from  Canada,  Nova 
Scotia,  Cuba,  England,  Germany,  Turkey,  China,  and  Japan.  A  few 
are  here  introduced : 

"  FROM    MILWAUKEE. 

"  Milwaukee  sends  greeting.  The  heavens  declare  the  glory  of 
God.  The  firmament  showeth  His  handiwork.  Day  unto  day  uttereth 
the  speech,  and  night  unto  night  showeth  the  knowledge ;  your  lines 
•have  gone  out  throughout  all  the  earth,  and  your  words  to  the  end 
of  the  world." 

"  FROM   JACKSONVILLE,    FLA. 

"  Greeting :  The  glory  of  God,  whose  hand  furnishes  the  light- 
ning, has  been  reflected  in  him  who  has  been  honored  as  His  agent 
in  making  the  lightning  the  servant  of  man." 

"FROM  WASHINGTON. 

"  May  the  God  of  Storms  bless  you  and  make  your  path  on  this 
earth  all  sunshine.  After  this  earth,  peace." 

"  FROM   PLYMOUTH,    MASS. 

"  The  Old  Colony  sends  you  joyous  and  kindly  greeting.  May 
your  laurels  be  ever  green  as  the  memory  of  the  Fathers,  and  your 
fame  as  enduring  as  Old  Plymouth  Rock." 


GREETINGS     FROM    TELEGRAPHERS.  259 

"FROM   CHARLESTON,   S.   C. 

"  From  the  far  South  we  send  back  the  kindly  greeting  of  our 
father  in  telegraphy,  and  with  our  brothers  of  the  North,  East,  and 
West  uniting  in  making  up  the  circuit  of  praise  to  him  whose  genius 
devised  and  whose  patient  energies  worked  out  this  the  grandest  in- 
vention of  the  nineteenth  century." 

"  FROM   LOUISVILLE,  KY. 

"  Kentucky,  whose  jurists  near  a  quarter  of  a  century  since  first 
vindicated  your  legal  title  against  all  pretenders  to  the  immortal 
fame  as  the  inventor  of  the  electric  telegraph,  to-day  proudly  rejoices 
to  see  the  whole  civilized  world  in  affirmation  of  her  judgment  so 
unanimously  and  enthusiastically  award  you  a  place  among  the  noblest 
benefactors  of  mankind.  Serus  in  ccelum  redeas." 

The  Hong-Kong  message  was  dated  at  1:15  P.  M.  ! 

General  N.  P.  Banks  then  addressed  the  assemblage,  on  the  Tele- 
graph as  a  National  Defense.  Mr.  J.  D.  Reid,  editor  of  the  Journal, 
and  the  suggestor  of  the  statue,  said  :  "I  hold  in  my  hand  a  paper 
which  I  regard  as  one  of  the  most  wonderful  of  modern  times.  There, 
sir,  is  the  record  of  a  subscription,  wholly  spontaneous,  covering  sixty 
feet  of  solid  nonpareil,  and  which  is  not  yet  stopped.  It  bears  the 
name  of  almost  every  messenger,  operator,  and  telegraphic  officer  on 
the  continent.  The  British  provinces  have  vied  with  the  United 
States  in  the  heartiness  of  this  tribute.  It  is  a  splendid  record  of  love, 
which  speaks  with  silent  but  most  potential  eloquence." 

It  was  now  announced  that  the  hero  of  the  hour  would  say  a  few 
words.  As  the  venerable  professor  rose  to  respond,  the  whole  vast 
audience  broke  into  a  warm  cheer  of  salutation.  It  was  a  moment  of 
intense  interest.  His  venerable  presence,  his  quiet  and  refined  bear- 
ing, the  feeling  of  relationship  between  himself  and  the  audience, 
the  thought  that  this  was  to  be  the  parting  word,  all  rendered  the 
scene  most  solemn  and  impressive.  He  said : 

"  FRIENDS  AND  CHILDREN  OF  THE  TELEGRAPH. — Whatever  I  may 
say  must  fall  far  short  of  expressing  the  grateful  feelings,  or  conflict- 
ing emotions,  which  agitate  me  on  an  occasion  so  unexampled  in  the 
history  of  inventions.  Gladly  would  I  have  shrunk  from  this  public 
demonstration  were  it  not  that  my  absence  to-night,  under  the  cir- 
cumstances, might  be  construed  into  an  apathy  which  I  do  not  feel, 
and  which  your  overpowering  kindness  would  justly  rebuke. 

"But  where  shall  thanks  begin,  if,  looking  through  all  intervening 
instrumentalities,  the  Great  Author  of  the  gift  of  the  telegraph  to  the 
world  be  not  first  of  all  acknowledged.  '  Not  unto  us,  not  unto  us, 
but  unto  God  be  all  the  glory.' 

"  When  I  consider  that  He  who  rules  supreme  over  the  ways  and 
destinies  of  man,  often  makes  use  of  the  feeblest  instruments  to 
accomplish  His  benevolent  purposes  to  man,  as  if,  by  grandest  con- 


260  SAMUEL    F.     B.     MORSE. 

trast,  to  point  the  mind  with  more  marked  effect  to  Him  as  their 
author,  I  cheerfully  take  my  place  on  the  lowest  seat  at  His  footstool. 
[Applause.] 

"It  is  His  pleasure,  however,  to  work  by  human  instrumentality. 
You  have  chosen  to  impersonate,  in  the  statue  this  day  erected,  the 
invention  rather  than  the  inventor,  and  it  is  of  no  small  significance 
that  in  the  attitude  so  well  chosen,  and  so  admirably  executed  by  the 
talented  young  sculptor  whose  work  presents  him  so  prominently  and 
so  favorably  before  you,  he  has  given  permanence  to  that  pregnant 
and  just  sentence  which  was  the  first  public  utterance  of  the  tele- 
graph :  '  What  hath  God  wrought  ?' 

"Little  did  that  young  friend,  twenty-seven  years  ago,  (and  whose 
presence  here  to-night  I  most  cordially  greet),  in  the  artless  inno- 
cence of  a  devout  heart,  dream  of  the  far-reaching  effect  of  that  first 
telegram  which  she  indited,  upon  him  who  transmitted  it.  While 
as  if  by  inspiration  she  struck  the  key-note  of  the  invention,  placing 
its  real  author  upon  the  throne,  it  at  the  same  time  struck  a  respond- 
ing chord  within  this  bosom  which  still  vibrates  to  temper  with  its 
ringing  note,  any  proud  aspiration  of  a  selfishness  that,  unchecked, 
might  be  disposed  to  exclaim :  '  Is  not  this  great  Babylon  which  I 
have  built,  by  the  might  of  my  power  ?'  Yes,  little  did  that  young 
friend  dream  that  she  had  thus  furnished  me  a  substantial  retreat  from 
the  conflicting  elements,  which  public  and  private  praise  at  home, 
and  the  gratulations  of  foreign  nations,  stir  into  activity  in  the  human 
heart  unless  is  kept  in  just  prominence  the  Supreme  Author  of  the 
gift. 

"  You  have  chosen  to  impersonate  in  my  humble  effigy,  an  inven- 
tion which,  cradled  upon  the  ocean,  had  its  birth  in  an  American 
ship.  It  was  nursed  and  cherished  not  so  much  from  personal  as 
from  patriotic  pride.  Forecasting  its  future,  even  at  its  birth,  by 
most  powerful  stimulus  to  perseverance  through  all  the  perils  and 
trials  of  its  early  days — and  they  were  neither  few  nor  insignificant — 
was  the  thought  that  it  must  inevitably  be  world-wide  in  its  applica- 
tion, and  moreover,  that  it  would  every-where  be  hailed  as  a  grateful 
American  gift  to  the  nations.  It  is  in  this  aspect  of  the  present  oc- 
casion that  I  look  upon  your  proceedings  as  intended,  not  so  much 
as  homage  to  an  individual  as  to  the  invention  '  whose  lines '  from 
America  '  have  gone  out  through  all  the  earth,  and  their  words  to  the 
end  of  the  world.'  ......... 

"To-night  you  have  before  you  a  sublime  proof  of  the  grand  pro- 
gress of  the  Telegraph  in  its  march  round  the  globe.  It  is  but  a 
few  days  since  that  our  veritable  antipodes  became  telegraphically 
united  to  us.  We  can  speak  to  and  receive  an  answer  in  a  few 
seconds  of  time  from  Hong  Kong,  in  China,  where  ten  o'clock  to- 
night here  is  ten  o'clock  in  the  day  there,  and  it  is  perhaps  a  debat- 
able question  whether  their  ten  o'clock  is  ten  to-day  or  ten  to-mor- 
row. China  and  New  York  are  in  interlocutory  communication.  We 


SPEECH     AT    ACADEMY     OF    MUSIC.  261 

know  the  fact,  but  can  imagination  realize  the  fact?  But  I  must  not 
further  trespass  on  your  patience  at  this  late  hour. 

"  I  can  not  close  without  the  expression  of  my  cordial  thanks  to 
my  long-known,  long-tried,  and  honored  friend  Reid,  whose  un- 
wearied labors  early  contributed  so  effectively  to  the  establishment 
of  Telegraph  lines.  To  the  eminent  Governors  of  this  State  and 
the  State  of  Massachusetts,  who  have  given  to  this  demonstration 
their  honored  presence;  to  my  excellent  friend  the  distinguished 
Orator  of  the  day ;  to  the  Mayor  and  city  authorities  of  New  York ; 
to  the  Park  Commissioners;  to  the  officers  and  managers  of  the  vari- 
ous and  even  rival  Telegraph  Companies,  who  have  so  cordially  united 
on  this  occasion;  to  the  numerous  citizens,  ladies  and  gentlemen; 
and  though  last,  not  least,  to  every  one  of  my  large  and  increasing 
family  of  Telegraph  children,  who  have  honored  me  with  the  proud 
title  of  Father,  I  tender  my  cordial  thanks."  [Applause.] 

Professor  Morse's  address  was  listend  to  throughout  with  the  deepest 
interest,  and  was  delivered  in  a  clear,  steady  voice,  in  which  there  was 
no  evidence  of  feebleness  or  decay.  It  was  a  remarkable  circumstance 
that,  near  midnight,  as  the  great  audience  were  leaving  the  Academy, 
a  magnificent  auroral  display  appeared  in  the  sky,  as  if  the  elements 
were  in  joyous  sympathy  with  the  occasion  and  lighted  their  electric 
fires  on  that  tranquil  summer  night  to  testify  their  approbation. 

Well  might  Professor  Morse  rejoice  that  he  had  lived  to  see  this 
day !  Europe  then  possessed  450,000  miles  of  wire  and  13,000  sta- 
tions; America,  180,000  miles  of  wire  and  6,000  stations;  India, 
14,000  miles  of  wire  and  200  stations;  and  Australia,  10,000  miles  of 
wire  and  270  stations;  and  the  extension  throughout  the  world  was 
proceeding  at  the  rate  of  100,000  miles  of  wire  per  annum.  There 
were,  in  addition,  30,000  miles  of  submarine  telegraph  wire  in  success- 
ful operation,  extending  beneath  the  Atlantic  and  German  Oceans ;  the 
Baltic,  North,  Mediterranean,  Red,  Arabian,  and  China  Seas;  the 
Persian  Gulf,  the  Bay  of  Biscay,  the  Strait  of  Gibraltar,  and  the  Gulfs 
of  Mexico  and  St.  Lawrence. 

The  close  of  his  life  now  drew  rapidly  near.  But  the  following 
letter  written  to  Mr.  Field,  then  attending  the  Telegraphic  Conven- 
tion at  Rome,  and  one  of  the  last  the  great  telegrapher  ever  penned, 
shows  that  old  age  did  not  impair  the  vigor  of  his  faculties.  The 
chirography  was  also  said  to  be  wonderfully  firm  and  clear : 

"NEW  YORK,  December  4,  1871. 

"Mv  DEAR  MR.  FIELD:  Excuse  my  delay  in  writing  you.  The 
excitement  occasioned  by  the  visit  of  the  Grand  Duke  Alexis  has  just 
closed,  and  I  have  been  wholly  engaged  by  the  various  duties  con- 
nected with  his  presence. 

"I  have  wished  for  a  few  calm  moments  to  put  on  paper  some 
thoughts  respecting  the  doings  of  the  Great  Telegraphic  Convention, 
to  which  you  are  a  delegate. 


262  SAMUEL     F.     B.     MORSE. 

"  The  telegraph  has  now  assumed  such  a  marvelous  position  in  human 
affairs  throughout  the  world ;  its  influences  are  so  great  and  important 
in  all  the  varied  concerns  of  nations,  that  its  efficient  protection 
from  injury  has  become  a  necessity.  It  is  a  powerful  advocate  for 
universal  peace.  Not  that  of  itself  it  can  command  a  "  Peace,  be 
still !"  to  the  angry  waves  of  human  passions,  but  that  by  its  rapid 
interchange  of  thought  and  opinion  it  gives  the  opportunity  of  ex- 
planations to  acts  and  laws  which  in  their  ordinary  wording  often 
create  doubt  and  suspicion. 

"  Were  there  no  means  of  quick  explanation,  it  is  readily  seen  that 
doubt  and  suspicion  working  on  the  susceptibilities  of  the  public  mind 
would  engender  misconception,  hatred,  and  strife.  How  important, 
then,  that  in  the  intercourse  of  nations  there  should  be  the  ready 
means  at  hand  for  prompt  correction  and  explanation. 

"  Could  there  not  be  passed,  in  the  great  International  Convention, 
some  resolution  to  the  effect  that  in  whatever  condition,  whether  of 
peace  or  war  between  nations,  the  telegraph  should  be  deemed  a 
sacred  thing,  to  be  by  common  consent  effectually  protected  both  on 
land  and  beneath  the  waters? 

"In  the  interest  of  human  happiness,  of  that  'Peace  on  earth' 
which,  in  announcing  the  advent  of  the  Savior,  the  angels  proclaimed 
with  'good-will  to  men,'  I  hope  that  the  Convention  will  not  ad- 
journ without  adopting  a  resolution  asking  of  the  nations  their  united 
effective  protection  to  this  great  agent  of  civilization. 

"The  mode  and  the  terms  of  such  resolution  may  be  safely  left  to 
the  intelligent  members  of  the  honorable  and  distinguished  Conven- 
tion. Believe  me  as  ever,  your  friend  and  servant, 

"SAMUEL  F.  B.  MORSE. 

"HoN.  CYRUS  W.  FIELD,  Rome,  Italy." 

Professor  Morse,  familiar  as  his  name  was  on  both  sides  of  the 
Atlantic,  was  facially  known  to  comparatively  few  persons,  and  often 
attracted  by  his  striking  appearance  the  attention  of  those  who  had 
not  the  slightest  suspicion  that  he  was  the  celebrated  inventor  of  the 
magnetic  telegraph.  His  countenance  and  bearing  were  noticeable 
and  impressive,  even  in  Broadway,  that  great  thoroughfare  which 
swallows  up  individualities,  and  converts  provincial  whales  into  me- 
tropolitan minnows.  The  Professor's  features  were  large,  but  regular, 
well-proportioned  and  harmonious  on  the  whole,  and  made  remark- 
able by  his  long,  abundant  white  hair,  moustache  and  whiskers,  which 
he  wore  full  and  flowing.  His  complexion  was  rather  florid,  and  his 
eye  of  an  undecided  color,  inclining  to  gray,  capable  of  great  variety 
of  expression,  and  often  lighting  up  with  what  is  considered  the  un- 
mistakable fire  of  genius.  Profound  intellect,  commanding  patience, 
capacity  for  investigation,  and  supreme  self-discipline  were  pictured 
in  his  face,  and,  apart  from  these  mental  and  spiritual  qualities,  were 
reflected  kindness  of  heart,  gentleness  of  manner,  and  a  temperament 


HI  S   APPEAR  ANCE — A  N    A  N  E  C  D  O  T  E  .  26t 

41 

thoroughly  sympathetic.  If  America  had  had  seven  distinctively 
wise  men,  such  as  ancient  Greece  boasted  of,  Professor  Morse  would 
have  been  recognized  at  sight  as  one  of  the  sages  by  every  discerning 
eye.  The  air  and  manner  of  Nestor  hung  about  him,  and  he  always 
conveyed  the  impression — common  to  genius  and  high  character — 
of  reserved  power.  In  stature  he  was  not  above  the  medium  height ; 
his  bearing  was  quiet,  and  wholly  unostentatious ;  his  speech  simple, 
direct  and  exact.  He  always  felt  a  just  and  natural  pride  in  his  wonder- 
ful invention  ;  was  fond  of  talking  of  it  on  proper  occasions,  and  to 
congenial  companions,  and  at  such  times  seemed  to  be  illumined 
with  the  satisfaction  which  a  great  idea  generates  in  one  who  has 
seen  it  advance  to  full  fruition. 

The  following  anecdote  related  by  Col.  Strother,  the  "  Porte 
Crayon  "  of  the  magazines,  portrays  vividly  the  straits  in  which  Morse 
found  himself  more  than  once  before  he  achieved  success : 

"  I  engaged  to  become  Morse's  pupil,  and  subsequently  went  to 
New  York  and  found  him  in  a  room  in  University  Place.  He  had 
three  other  pupils,  and  I«soon  found  that  our  professor  had  very  little 
patronage.  I  paid  my  fifty  dollars  ;  that  settled  for  one  quarter's  in- 
struction. Morse  was  a  faithful  teacher,  and  took  as  much  interest  in 
our  progress — more,  indeed,  than  we  did  ourselves.  But  he  was  very 
poor.  I  remember  that  when  my  second  quarter's  pay  was  due  my 
remittance  from  home  did  not  come  as  expected,  and  one  day  the 
professor  came  in,  and  said  courteously  : 

"  '  Well,  Strother,  my  boy,  how  are  we  off  for  money?  ' 

"'Why,  professor,'  I  answered,  'I  am  sorry  to  say  I  have  been 
disappointed  ;  but  I  expect  a  remittance  next  week." 

"  '  Next  week  !  '  he  repeated  sadly  ;  '  I  shall  be  dead  by  that  time.' 

"'Dead,  sir?' 

"  '  Yes,  dead  by  starvation.' 

"  I  was  distressed  and  astonished.  I  said  hurriedly — '  Would  ten 
dollars  be  of  any  service  ?  ' 

"  <  Ten  dollars  would  save  my  life  ;  that  is  all  that  it  would  do.' 

"  I  paid  the  money,  all  that  I  had,  and  we  dined  together.  It  was 
a  modest  meal,  but  good,  and  after  he  had  finished  he  said  :  '  This  is 
my  first  meal  for  twenty-four  hours.  Strother,  don't  be  an  artist.  It 
means  beggary.  Your  life  depends  upon  people  who  know  nothing 
of  your  art,  and  care  nothing  for  you.  A  house  dog  lives  better,  and 
the  very  sensitiveness  that  stimulates  him  to  work,  keeps  him  alive  to 
suffering.' 

"I  remained  with  Professor  Morse  three  years,  and  then  we  separ- 
ated. Some  years  afterwards  I  met  him  on  Broadway,  one  day.  He 
was  about  the  same  as  before,  a  trifle  older  and  somewhat  ruddier.  I 
asked  him  how  he  was  getting  along  with  his  painting,  and  he  told 
me  that  he  had  abandoned  it  ;  that  he  had  something  better  he  be- 
lieved ;  and  told  me  about  his  proposed  telegraph.  I  accompanied 
him  to  his  room,  and  there  found  several  miles  of  wire  twisted  about, 


264  SAMUEL   F.    B.    MORSE. 

and  the  battery,  which  he  explained  to  me.  His  pictures,  finished 
and  unfinished,  were  lying  about  covered  with  dust.  Shorty  after- 
wards Congress  made  an  appropriation,  and  Morse  was  on  the  high 
road  to  wealth  and  immortality." 

During  considerable  portions  of  several  years  following  Professor 
Morse's  return  from  his  European  trip  in  1839,  he  could  be  seen 
daily  at  Bedford's  Eating  House  at  the  corner  of  Beekman  and  Nas- 
sau streets,  New  York,  in  company  with  Prof.  Geo.  Bush,  Professor 
of  Oriental  Literature  in  New  York  City  University,  also  author  of 
Commentaries  on  the  Old  Testament,  and  often  with  other  gentlemen 
of  like  tastes,  each  partaking  of  such  frugal  meals  as  men  with  pleth- 
oric purses  seldom  partake  of.  But  these  days  of  darkness  came  to 
an  end,  when  Congress  came  to  his  aid,  and  Morse  began  ere  long  to 
tread  firmly  the  high  road  to  fame  and  fortune. 

Prof.  Morse  was  twice  married  ;  as  has  been  mentioned,  his  first 
wife  deceased  in  1825.  She  was  Miss  Lucretia  P.  Walker,  the  daugh- 
ter of  a  prominent  citizen  of  Concord,  New  Hampshire,  and  left 
three  children,  now  living.  His  second  wrte  was  Miss  Sarah  Gris- 
wold,  daughter  of  the  late  Capt.  S.  B.  Griswold,  U.  S.  A.,  who,  with 
one  daughter  and  three  sons  by  this  marriage,  survives  him. 

During  the  early  spring  of  this  year,  Prof.  Morse  began  to  show 
unmistakable  signs  of  approaching  dissolution.  Yet  his  departure 
corresponded  with  his  life.  Scarcely  any  perturbations  of  mind  or 
body;  all  was  calm  and  dignified,  when,  at  8  P.  M.,  of  April  2d,  1872, 
his  spirit  passed  from  earth.  His  death  was  beautiful  in  its  unclouded 
vision.  He  held  firmly  to  the  Christian  faith,  and  was  buried  from 
the  Presbyterian  church. 

Dr.  Adams,  in  his  funeral  sermon,  said: 

"A  few  days  before  his  decease,  in  the  privacy  of  his  chamber,  I 
spoke  to  him  of  the  great  goodness  of  God  to  him  in  his  remarkable 
life.  'Yes,  so  good  !'  was  his  quick  response,  'and  the  best  part  of 
all  is  yet  to  come.'  Spared  to  see  more  than  eighty  years,  he  saw 
none  of  the  infirmities  of  age  either  in  mind  or  body.  His  delicate 
tastes,  his  love  for  the  beautiful,  his  fondness  for  the  fine  arts,  his 
sound  judgment,  his  intellectual  activity,  his  public  spirit,  his  intense 
interest  in  all  which  concerned  the  welfare  and  decoration  of  the  city, 
his  earnest  advocacy  of  Christian  liberty  throughout  the  world, 
continued  unimpaired  to  the  last." 

Thus,  with  vigor  of  mind  unimpaired;  with  serene  faith,  and  steady 
hand,  and  undimmed  eye ;  with  peace  in  his  heart  and  "  Peace  on 
earth"  upon  his  lips,  Professor  Morse  ended  his  earthly  mission. 


ALFRED  VAIL. 


IN  the  month  of  September,  1807,' just  as  the  leaves  or  our  Ameri- 
can forest -trees  had*  begun  to  put  on  their  rich  autumnal  tints, 
preparatory  to  their  descent  to  mother  earth,  to  mingle  with  their 
native  dust,  there  was  born  into  the  family  of  a  sturdy  machinist, 
living  in  a  substantial  brick  dwelling  standing  hard  by  the  roadside, 
and  within  perhaps  fifty  yards  of  what  has  for  generations  been  known 
as  Speedwell  Iron  Works,  a  son,  who  in  process  of  time  came  to  be 
given  the  name  of  Alfred  Vail.  The  road  in  front  led  from  the 
county  town,  a  mile  distant,  down  the  hill  past  the  dwelling  on  to- 
wards the  office,  forge,  and  machine  shops,  and  then  at  once  across 
the  bridge  of  the  stream  to  the  great  iron  region  of  the  county,  at 
Dover,  Boonton,  etc.  The  stream  furnished  the  power  for  the  forge- 
hammers,  turning-lathes,  and  all  the  appliances  by  which  steamboat 
shafts,  cotton-press  screws,  and  a  thousand  other  forms  of  machinery 
were  there  wrought  into  shapes  to  answer  the  ends  for  which  they 
were  intended.  Thus  fashioned,  they  brought  to  the  stalwart  father 
and  owner  of  the  works  the  ingots  which  he  constantly  sought  with 
an  energy  and  industry  seldom  surpassed. 

Down  to  within  a  short  space  of  the  point  where  the  waters  of  the 
stream  descended  from  the  level  surface  of  the  dam,  on  either  side 
of  this  beautiful  Speedwell  lake — as  it  is  now  called — "for  possibly 
three-quarters  of  a  mile  up  stream,  the  pellucid  waters  had  at  that 
period  mirrored  the  forms  of  a  thick  growth  of  forest-trees,  majestic 
in  the  towering  heights  attained  by  a  hundred  years  of  undisturbed 
development.  Away  from  the  din  and  thug  of  the  machinery,  up 
the  margins  of  this  beautiful  and  charming  dell,  and  on  the  bosom  of 
the  placid  waters  of  the  lake,  many  an  hour  had  been  charmed  swiftly 
away  by  the  dashing  and  romantic  youth  of  the  neighboring  village. 

Near  the  crown  of  a  ridge  overlooking  the  valley,  through  which 
flowed  these  headwaters  of  the  Passaic,  half  a  mile  from  the  upper 
end  of  the  lake-let,  is  the  residence  from  which  John  Clevcs  Synunes 

(265) 


266  ALFRED      VAIL. 

emigrated  to  Ohio,  to  take  possession  of  his  "Miami  purchase." 
From  that  pleasant  '  Solitude '  went  forth,  in  the  bloom  of  youth. 
Anna  Symmes,  who  soon  became  the  bride  of  General  Wm.  Henry 
Harrison.  Pretty,  intelligent,  and  joyous  then,  she  was  ever  inter- 
esting and  cheerful  in  the  presence  of  her  large  family,  and  beloved 
by  a  large  circle  of  friends.  She  survived  the  decease  of  President 
Harrison  nearly  a  fourth  of  a  century,  and  was  buried  in  the  tomb 
beside  her  husband,  on  the  estate  at  North  Bend,  which  was  taken 
for  his  home  by  Judge  Symmes  in  1788.  As  was  natural,  many  of 
the  early  settlers  of  Cincinnati,  Dayton,  and  other  localities  of  the 
valleys  of  the  two  Miami  rivers  followed  Judge  Symmes  from  Morris 
County  and  other  portions  of  "  East  and  West  Jersey."  Israel  Lud- 
low,  the  engineer  who  made  the  first  survey  and  original  plat  of 
Cincinnati,  was  a  native  of  Long  Hill,  in  the  south-western  part  of 
Morris  County.  His  daughter,  Mrs.  Garrard,  was  married  in  Cincin- 
nati to  Judge  John  McLean,  of  the  United  States  Supreme  Court, 
himself  a  native  of  the  north  part  of  Morris  County.  Mrs.  McLean 
survives  her  husband,  and  is  residing  with  her  sons  at  Lake  Pepin,  on 
the  Mississippi.  The  last  wife  of  Chief-Justice  Chase  was  a  descend- 
ant of  Israel  Ludlow  also.  Matthias  Denman,  one  of  the  early 
associates  of  Judge  Symmes,  was  also  from  Morris  County,  and  ended 
his  days  near  the  Short  Hills,  in  the  same  county. 

The  works  at  Speedwell  had  been  purchased  of  Major  John  Kinney, 
an  officer  in  the  Revolutionary  army,  who  for  many  years  later  was 
a  resident  of  the  adjacent  village  of  Morristown,  living  quietly  with  his 
daughter — afterwards  the  wife  of  Judge  Hornblower,  who  was  for  a 
considerable  period  the  Chief-Justice  of  the  Supreme  Court  of  New 
Jerseyy  and  a  resident  of  Newark.  Supported  by  his  cane,  with  a 
buck-horn  head,  and  silver-mounted,  Major  Kinney  clad  in  knee- 
breeches,  and  the  accompanying  habiliments  of  the  Revolutionary 
period,  with  a  long  cue  pendant  from  his  head,  and  a  cocked  hat  sur- 
mounting it,  could  be  seen  any  pleasant  day  nimbly  picking  his  way 
around  the  "green,"  or  through  the  streets  of  this  ancient  historic 
town  at  the  period  when  Alfred  Vail  was  growing  to  manhood.  Major 
Kinney  was  the  type  of  many  men  then  living  who  were  the  remaining 
representatives  of  the  "  New  Jersey  Patriots,"  or  the  "Jersey  Blues,", 
who  had  but  little  to  occupy  their  attention  beyond  telling  of  their 
exploits  with  the  "  Red  -  coats  "  during  the  War  of  Independence. 

Since  the  days  when  Washington  and  his  patriot  army  went  into 
winter  quarters  within  its  borders,  the  County  of  Morris  has  been  of 
historic  interest.  It  was  at  the  old  Ford  Mansion,  in  the  eastern 
suburbs  of  the  village  of  Morristown,  that  Washington  took  up  his 
head  quarters  in  the  winter  of  1779-80.  It  is  but  recently  that  the 
Hon.  Henry  A.  Ford,  the  venerable  grandson  of  its  occupant  in  the 
days  of  Washington,  was  carried  from  its  broad  halls  to  his  final 
resting-place,  and  there  buried  beside  the  remains  of  his  distinguished 
father,  the  late  Gabriel  Ford,  who  for  many  years  was  Judge  of  the 


HIS     NATIVE     COUNTY,     AND     FAMILY.  267 

(State)  Supreme  Court.*  The  mansion  is  in  excellent  repair,  and  is 
still  occupied  by  the  family  of  its  late  proprietor. 

Washington's  army,  after  the  brilliant  achievements  at  Trenton  and 
Princeton,  pursued  the  British  in  their  flight  as  far  as  Kingston,  but 
after  thirty-six  hours  almost  continuous  movement,  weary,  foot-sore, 
and  exhausted,  it  was  turned  aside  to  the  Highlands  of  Morris  County, 
and  there,  during  the  severe  winter  of  1776-77,  the  soldiers  suffered 
not  less  intensely  than  they  did  at  Valley  Forge.  But  these  sufferings 
did  not  dampen  their  military  ardor  or  keep  them  from  sleepless  vigil- 
ance. The  enemy  in  New  York  was  closely  watched.  Means  of  com- 
munication were  found  in  beacon  fires  through  the  long  winter  nights 
upon  the  high  hills  and  mountains — spurs  of  the  "  Blue  Ridge  " — which 
skirt  and  pierce  the  county  in  each  direction  from  the  town.  On  the 
eastern  borders  of  the  county  are  what  are  termed  the  Short  Hills,  a 
range  of  highlands  affording  many  magnificent  views  of  the  country 
as  far  north  as  the  Orange  County  line  in  New  York,  and  South  to 
Raritan  Bay  and  river.  On  a  clear  day  the  prospect  from  the  higher 
summits  in  the  direction  of  New  York  city,  and  out  the  Narrows 
through  which  the  Hudson  makes  its  way  to  the  Atlantic,  brings  to 
the  eye  such  views  and  charming  landscapes  as  can  nowhere  else  be 
seen  in  the  vicinity  of  the  great  metropolis. 

During  the  stormy  period  of  the  Revolution,  a  few  miles  out  of 
Morristown,  probably  at  or  near  the  locality  in  the  county  which  is 
now  known  as  Littleton,  on  the  route  through  Speedwell  to  Rocka- 
way  or  Denville,  Stephen  Vail,  the  father  of  Alfred  Vail,  was  born 
June  28th,  1780.  His  father,  Davis  Vail,  was  a  Quaker,  noted  as  a 
man  of  probity  and  good  sense,  who  reared  his  family  with  a  view 
to  the  practical  realities  of  life.  The  county  probably  never  fur- 
nished a  more  perfect  specimen  of  devotion  to  an  industrious  and 
useful  calling  than  was  manifested  by  this  Quaker's  son.  He  was 

*  Hon.  D.  K.  Este,  the  oldest  member  of  the  Cincinnati  Bar,  formerly  the  sole 
Judge  of  the  old  Superior  Court  of  that  city,  and  almost  a  nonagenarian,  still  in 
vigorous  health,  and  daily  seen  walking  the  streets  of  the  Queen  City,  studied  law 
with  Gabriel  Ford,  before  the  latter  became  Judge.  Soon  after  commencing  his 
law  studies,  in  1 803,  he  visited  at  the  office  in  New  York,  a  friend  who  was  then  a 
student  with  Alexander  Hamilton.  On  being  introduced,  Hamilton  inquired  if  he  was  a 
son  of  Captain  Moses  E*te,  of  Morristown.  He  replied  that  he  was  ;  when  Hamil- 
ton rejoined  :  "  Do  you  know,  sir,  that  but  for  me  you  would  not  have  been  here  ? 
I  knew  your  father  well.  In  passing  over  the  field  with  General  Washington,  after 
the  battle  of  Monmouth,  I  recognized  Captain  Este  (then  a  young  man),  and  on  in- 
quiring found  that  he  w^s  severely  wounded.  I  immediately  ordered  him  carried 
from  the  field,  and,  with  care  and  attention,  his  life  was  saved." 

Judge  Este's  first  wife  was  the  eldest  daughter  of  General  Harrison.  \Vc  learn 
from  him  that  John  Cleves  Symmes  was  Judge  of  the  Court  in  Morris  County  before 
the  Revolution  ;  that  he  was  colonel  of  a  regiment  of  the  New  Jersey  Militia  in  the 
Revolution,  and  a  member  of  the  Continental  Congress.  Symmes  was  a  meml>cr  of 
Congress  when  he  arranged  for  his  "  Miami  purchase,"  and  the  President  of  Con- 
gress, Elias  lioudinot,  and  others  of  that  body,  became  interested  with  him,  although 
not  ostensibly  so. 


268  ALFRED    VAIL. 

the  eldest  of  a  family  of  eight  children,  of  whom  Dr.  Wm.  P.  Vail, 
now  a  resident  of  Sussex  County,  New  Jersey,  and  nearly  seventy, 
was  the  youngest.  The  doctor  was  in  early  life  an  apprentice  of  his 
brother,  and  assisted  in  building  at  the  Speedwell  Iron  Works  "  the 
first  steam  engine  that  ever  propelled  a  vessel  across  the  Atlantic;" 
this  was  in  1819;  the  vessel  probably  went  from  Savannah. 

Stephen  Vail  was  the  first  man  in  New  Jersey  to  set  up  a  machine 
for  making  cut  nails,  which  he  started  at  Dover  in  his  native  county. 
As  his  mother  was  often  heard  to  say,  he  was  "a  born  mechanic." 
He  early  married  a  young  lady  of  excellent  sense  and  of  great  amia- 
bility and  nobleness  of  character,  who,  although  much  of  the  time  in 
feeble  health,  manifested  the  best  qualities  of  a  true  housewife  and 
an  earnest  Christian  mother.  Mrs.  Vail  was  an  active  member  of 
the  First  Presbyterian  Church  at  Morristown  during  the  pastorate  of 
Rev.  Albert  Barnes,  since  so  widely  known  by  his  commentaries  on 
the  Scriptures.  She  had  several  children ;  the  eldest  was  a  daughter, 
Harriet,  and  the  second  a  son,  Alfred,  the  subject  of  our  present 
sketch.  Following  these  were  a  daughter,  Sarah,  and  a  son,  George, 
who  on  reaching  his  majority  became  associated  in  business  as  partner 
with  his  father,  and  for  a  Congressional  term  or  two — fifteen  to 
eighteen  years  afterwards — represented  his  native  district  in  Congress. 
George  Vail's  present  residence  was  erected  under  his  own  supervision 
on  a  beautiful  lawn,  on  the  opposite  margin  of  the  lake,  from  the 
house  in  which  he  was  born,  and  it  is,  in  its  whole  make,. as  sincere 
a  specimen  of  architecture  as  the  country  affords.  The  material  is  the 
brown  "pudding  stone  "  of  the  region,  of  which  in  former  days  there 
were  so  many  immense  bowlders  scattered  upon  the  surface  of  the 
fields.  Those  he  used  were  cracked  open,  and  the  inner  variegated 
surface  forms  the  outside  exposure  of  the  walls ;  an  example  which 
has  found  many  imitators  where  purses  had  sufficient  depth.  The 
fine  Methodist  Church,  built  within  a  few  years,  on  the  south  side 
of  the  public  square  of  the  town,  at  a  cost  of  over  £100,000,  is  of 
this  material. 

The  whole  surroundings  of  Morristown  are  now  beautiful  in  an 
eminent  degree.  In  the  scenery,  nature  has  scattered  her  favors  with 
a  lavish  hand,  in  alternations  of  hill  and  valley,  wooded  mountain- 
sides, and  rolling  meadow  lands,  meandering  streams  and  gurg- 
ling rivulets.  Scattered  through  the  town  and  in  the  suburbs,  evidences 
of  wealth  and  refined  taste  are  seen  upon  all  sides.  The  merchants 
of  New  York  finding  the  region  so  salubrious  and  healthy  are  dotting 
the  whole  vicinity  with  fine  residences.  With  improved  railroad 
facilities,  the  city  will  soon  be  within  an  hour's  travel. 

Alfred  Vail  passed  his  early  life  at  the  home  of  his  parents  in  the 
beautiful  region  which  we  have  attempted  to  describe,  and  amid  in- 
fluences which  were  likely  to  engender  and  foster  mechanical  tastes. 
His  youth  until  his  seventeenth  year  was  spent  in  attending  school 
in  Morris  Academy.  In  that  building  many  men  who  have  attained 


GRADUATES     AT     NEW    YORK     UNIVERSITY.  269 

to  eminence  have  sat  as  pupils,  or  presided  as  principals.  For  many 
years  during  the  later  decades  of  the  past  and  the  earlier  years  of  the 
present  century  the  town  was  especially  famous  for  its  superior  educa- 
tional facilities.  When  young  Vail  had  left  school,  his  tastes  and  the 
tendencies  of  his  surroundings  led  him  at  once  into  the  business  of 
his  father — the  manufacture  of  steam-engines  and  other  machinery 
manufactured  of  iron  and  brass.  He  was  much  in  the  brass  foundry, 
and  at  an  early  age  became  noted  for  his  skill.  His  constitution  was 
like  his  mother's,  delicate.  With  great  fondness  for  study,  especially 
in  the  mechanic  arts  and  sciences,  he  had  frequent  longings  for  more 
thorough  attainments.  He  had,  however,  become  a  citizen  of  full 
age  before  he  broke  away  from  his  moorings,  and  began  his  prepara- 
tion for  college.  With  great  zeal  and  energy  he  pursued  his  studies 
at  the  academy  in  Bloomfield,  Essex  County,  until  duly  prepared 
he  entered  the  New  York  City  University  in  1832,  probably  at  pre- 
cisely the  period  of  Professor  Morse's  return  from  Europe  in  the 
packet  ship  "Sully."  Vail  graduated  in  due  course  in  1836,  with 
decided  honor,  and  with  such  recognition  from  the  faculty  as  led  to 
an  early  offer  of  a  professorship  in  the  institution. 

The  reader  has  learned  from  the  remarks  embodied  in  the  sketch 
of  Professor  Morse,  that  Mr.  Vail  became  interested,  and  finally 
absorbed,  in  improving  the  telegraph.  We  need  not  repeat  here  what 
has  there  been  stated  as  to  the  precise  manner  in  which  he  was  led 
into  an  early  association  with  Professor  Morse.  It  was  not  the  in- 
tention when  those  remarks  were  penned  to  make  a  separate  sketch  of 
Mr.  Vail's  career  in  connection  with  telegraphy,  but  new  investiga- 
tions have  led  to  new  determinations ;  and  in  the  language  of  the 
senior  associate,  in  his  criticism  of  1853,  upon  Professor  Henry's 
course  with  regard  to  him,  "  there  is  a  paramount  duty  to  see  that  the 
truth  of  history  be  not  violated,  especially  since  the  telegraph  has  be- 
come so  large  a  part  of  the  history  of  science,  and  is  directly  associated 
with  the  progress  of  the  world."  We  have  seen  how  completely 
Professor  Morse  had  in  his  last  days  narrowed  his  recognition  of  Vail's 
connection  with  the  telegraph  to  the  one  point  of  pecuniary  aid.  "  To 
this  complexion  did  it  come  at  last!"  Imperceptibly  to  himself,  be- 
yond a  doubt,  and  with  no  preconceived  purpose  of  injustice,  but 
gradually,  during  many  years  of  adulatory  attentions  from  the  govern- 
ments and  savans  of  the  civilized  world,  he  had  become  greedy  of  fame, 
and  was  led  into  studied  silence  on  some  matters  which  he  had  treated 
in  an  entirely  different  spirit  when  he  was  pinched  with  poverty  and 
needed,  not  merely  mflney,  but  skilled  assistance  to  bring  his  bantling 
to  perfection.  His  invention  was  born,  it  is  true,  but  it  had  need 
to  fulfill  the  requirements  suggested  by  the  question  of  Nicodemus, 
"and  be  born  again,"  with  the  spirit  of  a  new  life,  before  it  could 
go  forth  on  its  mission  of  peace  and  good-will,  into  all  the  earth. 

From  a  paragraph  in  a  pamphlet  prepared  by  Professor  Morse  in 
1853,  which  was  soon  after  reprinted  by  him  in  Paris,  we  now  quote 


270  ALFRED      VAIL. 

views  as  therein  stated  :  "  Alfred  Vail  being  then  (1837)  a  student* 
in  the  New  York  City  University,  and  a  young  man  of  great  ingenuity, 
having  heard  of  my  invention,  he  was  naturally  desirous  of  seeing  it 
as  it  then  existed  in  my  rooms  in  the  University.  In  the  summer 
of  that  year  he  came  to  my  rooms  and  I  explained  it  to  him,  and 
from  that  moment  to  the  present  (1853)  he  has  taken  the  deepest 
interest  in  the  telegraph.  Finding  that  I  was  unable  to  command 
the  means  to  bring  my  invention  properly  before  the  public,  and  be- 
lieving that  he  could  command  those  means  through  his  father  and 
brother,  he  expressed  this  belief  to  me,  and  I  at  once  made  such  an 
arrangement  with  him  as  to  secure  the  pecuniary  means  and  the  skill 
of  these  gentlemen.  It  is  to  their  joint  liberality,  but  especially  to 
the  attention,  and  skill,  and  faith,  in  the  final  success  of  the  enterprise 
maintained  by  Mr.  Alfred  Vail,  that  is  due  the  success  of  my  endeavors 
to  bring  the  telegraph  at  that  time  creditably  before  the  public.  He  was 
with  me,  assisting  me  in  its  construction,  in  its  first  exhibitions  to 
the  New  York  public  in  1837,  to  the  Franklin  Institute,  in  Philadel- 
phia, and  to  Congress  in  1838  ;  and  from  his  peculiar  experience  in  all 
that  relates  to  the  invention,  was  appointed  one  of  my  Assistant  Super- 
intendents on  the  passage  of  the  Telegraph  Bill  in  1843." 

In  such  terms  did  Professor  Morse  state  his  views  of  his  signal 
benefactor,  midway  of  his  career  with  the  invention,  which  has  borne 
his  name  to  the  highest  pinnacle  of  fame.  Now,  let  the  question  be 
answered,  what  was  it  that  Morse  invented  ?  We  reply  by  quoting 
from  Professor  Gale's  letter  of  1872,  printed  in  the  sketch  of  Morse: 
"  Was  Morse's  invention  the  achievement  of  a  machine,  or  was  it  the 
discovery  of  a  law  or  principle  of  science  ?  The  plain  answer  is,  that 
the  Morse  invention  is  a  machine,  and  nothing  more." 

Professor  Gale,  in  the  case  of  Smith  vs.  Downing,  presented  dia- 
grams of  the  Morse  machine  (1836)  as  it  passed  (September,  1837,) 
into  Mr.  Vail's  hands  for  an  entire  mechanical  reconstruction 
throughout,  to  speak  a  language  not  wholly  unknown  to  the  first 
machine,  but  to  perform  entirely  new  functions,  and  to  produce  an 
entirely  new  system  of  signs  and  letters,  which  the  first,  by  its  structure, 
was  physically  incapable  of  being  made  to  speak.  Alfred  Vail  first 
produced  in  the  new  instrument  the  first  available  Morse  machine. 
He  invented  the  first  "combination  of  the  horizontal  lever  motion 
to  actuate  a  pen  or  pencil,  or  style,"  and  the  entirely  new  tele- 
graphic alphabet  of  dots,  spaces  and  marks  which  it  necessitated,  and 
he  did  so  prior  to  September,  1837,  the  month  when  the  old  in- 
strument passed  into  his  hands  for  reconstruction.  His  more  perfect 
invention  of  a  steel  style  upon  a  lever  which  could  strike  into  the 
paper  as  it  was  drawn  onward  over  a  ground  roller,  and  emboss 
upon  it  the  same  alphabetic  characters,  was  not  invented  until  1844, 
about  the  time  the  first  line  of  telegraph  began  to  operate  between 

*  Probably  a  resident  graduate. 


INVENTOR   OF  THE   MORSE  ALPHABET,  ETC.    271 

Baltimore  and  Washington.  This  instrument,  somewhat  transformed, 
still  holds  its  place  (1872)  as  practically  the  best  ever  invented, 
and  after  standing  all  imaginable  tests  is  not  likely  to  be  jostled 
from  its  firm  pedestal  of  fame  in  the  "  MORSE  system." 

The  new  machine  was  Vail's  and  not  Morse's.  The  claim  is 
clearly  made,  then,  that  Alfred  Vail  in  the  first  place  invented  an  en- 
tirely new  alphabet,  which  he  had  the  genius  to  foresee  could  be 
made  to  register  easily  on  a  horizontal  line  with  one  continuous 
movement  of  the  paper  from  right  to  left.  Secondly,  he  invented  an 
entirely  new  machine,  in  which  was  the  first  combination  of  the  hori- 
zontal lever  motion  to  actuate  a  pen,  or  pencil,  or  style,  so  arranged 
as  to  perform  the  new  duties  required  with  a  precision,  simplicity, 
skill,  and  rapidity  infinitely  beyond  the  "stammering  speech"  and 
the  creeping  infantile  movements  of  the  true  Morse  machine,  as 
originally  conceived  and  brought  forth  !  and,  thirdly,  Vail  invented 
several  years  afterward  the  new  lever  and  roller,  which  embossed 
into  paper  the  wholly  simple  and  perfect  alphabetic  characters  which 
he  alone  originated, — altogether  the  complete  invention  used  from  the 
first  opening  of  a  telegraph  line  until  now,  a  period  of  nearly  thirty 
years.  It  registers  as  well  as  transmits  its  own  messages,  and  from 
May  25th,  1844,  until  now  it  has  proved  itself  the  best  instrument 
ever  made,  as  is  sufficiently  proved  by  its  almost  universal  use 
throughout  the  world,  by  all  peoples  and  with  all  languages.  If  as 
Dr.  Gale,  their  only  early  associate,  wrote  less  than  six  months  ago, 
"  Morse's  invention  is  a  machine,"  what  becomes  of  his  claims  as  an 
inventor  when  the  machine  was  conceived  and  brought  forth  from 
the  brain  and  hands  of  another  ? 

We  now  go  back  to  the  days  of  1837,  when  the  new  alphabet  had 
appeared,  but  when  the  new  machine  although  conceived  was  not 
brought  forth,  and  commence  at  this  point  by  quoting  a  letter  of 
Professor  Morse,  addressed  to  Mr.  Vail  at  Morristown,  and  dated 

"  NEW  YORK,  Sept.  29,  1837. 

"  DEAR  SIR, — I  have  only  that  which  is  agreeable  to  tell  you.  Since 
you  were  here  I  have  a  most  satisfactory  letter  from  Hon.  W.  C. 
Rives,  and  also  from  Captain  Pell,  who  was  the  commander  of  the 
"  Sully  "  on  my  passage  home.  They  both  have  given  me  most  un- 
qualified testimony  to  the  priority  of  my  invention  on  board  the  ship. 

"  I  have  dispatched  my  letter  to  the  Secretary  of  the  Treasury, 
and  have  the  papers  and  drawings  nearly  ready  for  the  Patent  office.* 
They  will  be  on  their  way  probably  on  Monday,  or  at  farthest 
Tuesday. 

"If  you  intend  to  do  any  thing  in  England  or  France  no  time  is  to 
be  lost.f 

*  For  the  caveat  obtained  in  October. 

f  Here  the  director  is  seen  to  be  not  Morse  but  Vail,  with  cash  at  his  command 
to  pay  Morse's  expenses  abroad. 


272  ALFRED    VAIL. 

"  I  hold  myself  in  readiness  to  execute  the  commission  with  respect 
to  the  portraits  any  time  after  next  week,  and  hope  to  find  the  ma- 
chinery in  a  state  of  such  advancement  that  we  may  have  time,  before 
the  winter  session,  to  become  perfectly  familiar  with  it,  so  as  to  strike 
conviction  at  once  into  the  minds  of  the  members  of  Congress. 
When  we  exhibit  its  powers  to  the  powers  that  be,  Professor  Gale's 
services  will  be  invaluable  to  us,  and  I  am  glad  he  is  disposed  to 
enter  into  the  matter  with  zeal.  The  more  I  think  of  the  whole 
matter,  the  more  I  am  convinced  that  if  it  is  perseveringly  pushed  at 
this  moment  (so  favorable  on  many  accounts  to  its  adoption  by  Gov- 
ernment) the  result  will  be  all  that  we  ought  to  wish  for. 

"  We  want  the  wire;  we  are  ready  for  some  important  experiments 
necessary  to  establish  with  certainty  some  points  not  yet  established 
by  experiment. 

"  The  law  of  the  magnetic  influence  at  a  distance  is  not  yet  dis- 
covered, and  your  twenty  miles  of  wire  may  enable  us  to  make  this 
discovery,  and  to  keep  ahead  of  our  European  rivals,  as  well  as  to 
proceed  with  certainty  in  our  other  arrangements. 

"  I  have  not  yet  heard  from  Dr.  Jackson,  in  reply  to  my  letter, 
and  I  hope  he  will  be  wise  enough  not  to  continue  a  claim  in  which 
he  must  be  conscious  he  is  wrong.  If  he  persists  he  may  give  me 
trouble,  but  he  can  not  succeed  in  the  end,  for  I  think  I  have  evi- 
dence which  will  settle  the  matter. 

"  Truly  your  friend  and  servant,  SAMUEL  F.  B.  MORSE." 

It  will  be  borne  in  mind  that  this  letter  of  Professor  Morse  was 
written  on  the  next  to  the  last  day  of  September,  from  New  York,  to 
Mr.  Vail,  then  at  his  father's  residence  at  Speedwell,  one  mile  north 
of  Morristown,  which  is  about  thirty  miles  from  New  York. 

The  Morris  and  Essex  Railroad  was  that  season  completed,  so  that 
by  the  way  of  Newark  and  Jersey  City  the  journey  (somewhat  length- 
ened in  distance  from  the  old  stage  route  to  Elizabethtown  Point,  and 
thence  by  Gibbons's  steamboats  to  the  city)  was  even  then  accomplished 
in  but  little  less  than  two  and  a  half  hours.*  In  building  the  Morris 

*  This  railroad  was  among  the  earliest  in  the  country,  on  a  route  not  lying  in  the 
lines  of  the  great  thoroughfares  of  travel  between  the  north  and  south,  or  east  and 
west.  The  great  through  New  York  and  Philadelphia  line,  which  displaced  the 
stages, — for  many  years  so  fine  and  marked  a  feature  of  travel  through  New  Bruns- 
wick, Princeton,  and  Trenton,  under  the  dashing  control  of  the  "  whips  "  of  the 
day,  then  just  passed, — was  by  the  steamboats  of  the  Camden  and  Amboy  line  to 
Amboy,  thence  by  railroad  to  Camden,  opposite  Philadelphia,  on  the  Jersey  side  of 
the  Delaware.  The  Camden  and  Amboy  Railroad  had  been  opened  possibly  a  half 
dozen  years  before  the  Morsi§  road,  under  the  special  manipulations  of  the  jjreat 
steamboat  owner,  R,  L.  Stevens,  of  Hoboken.  He  it  was  who  was  mainly  instru- 
mental in  getting  the  celebrated  charter,  giving  an  exclusive  right  of  way  across  the 
State  for  ninety-nine  years,  to  this  Pioneer  Railroad  Company,  which  has  for  twenty 
years  and  more  excited  so  much  unpleasant  criticism  upon  New  Jersey  legislation, 
because  of  excessive  railroad  charges. 


MORSE      AND     VAIL     EXPERIMENTING.  273 

and  Essex  Railroad,  Stephen  Vail,  the  owner  of  the  Speedwell 
Works,  took  a  large  pecuniary  interest,  for  it  gave  him  easy  access 
to  New  York  with  his  heavy  freights  of  iron,  manufactured  for  the 
markets  of  New  York  and  the  South.  The  ship-building  interests 
in  the  vicinity  of  what  was  known  as  the  Dry  Dock  in  the  East 
River  portion  of  New  York  drew  heavily  upon  his  facilities  for  forg- 
ing heavy  shafts  as  well  as  for  lighter  machinery.  In  his  half 
century  of  business-life  he  forged  out  and  accumulated  well  towards 
a  million  of  dollars,  and  finally  tied  up  his  fortune  for  the  latest 
of  his  heirs  as  nearly  as  the  laws  of  the  State  admit  of.  He  died 
at  the  age  of  eighty-four  years,  July  i2th,  1864.  His  son  Alfred, 
in  leaving  home  soon  after  his  majority,  to  pursue  a  course  of  study 
in  preparation  for  the  ministry  of  the  Presbyterian  Church,  had  in- 
curred his  disapprobation,  but  he  completed  his  course  at  college, 
and  at  the  age  of  thirty  associated  himself,  as  we  have  seen,  with 
Professor  Morse. 

Alfred  Vail  had  at  least  as  soon  as  the  earlier  part  of  Septem- 
ber, 1837,  entered  with  Professor  Morse  upon  a  series  of  experi- 
ments at  Speedwell  with  the  rude  machine  of  Morse's  own  construc- 
tion ;  which  were  conducted  in  a  large  building,  erected  for  a  cotton 
factory  on  a  small  stream  some  two  hundred  yards  or  more  distant 
from  the  machine  shops.  When  he  had  by  working  with  Professor 
Morse  satisfied  himself  as  to  the  capacities  of  the  system  and  machine 
of  Professor  Morse,  Mr.  Vail  with  his  accustomed  patience  and  the 
concentration  of  his  fine  natural  and  acquired  abilities  for  inven- 
tion, gave  himself  up  to  the  work  before  him.  His  contract  with  his 
associate  will  be  found  embodied  in  the  previous  sketch.  With  high 
enthusiasm  and  that  thorough  conscientiousness  which  was  so  marked 
a  feature  of  his  character,  he  bent  all  his  powers  to  producing  a 
machine  that  should  be  equal  to  accomplishing  the  conception  which 
five  years  previously  had  taken  possession  of  Professor  Morse,  and 
who,  in  the  interval,  had  been  slowly  developing  the  machine,  which 
now  to  Vail's  fine  mechanical  tastes  was  indeed  a  roughly  formed  em- 
bodiment of  a  finely  conceived  thought.  Vail  grasped  the  far  reaching 
necessities  of  the  case  and  entered  upon  his  labor ;  so  entirely  was 
he  absorbed  that  he  would  often  rise  from  his  bed  in  the  still  hours 
of  night  and  jot  down  his  thoughts.  Meanwhile  Morse  had  gone 
back  to  New  York,  and  with  Professor  Gale  was  going  through  with 
experiments  referred  to  in  the  letter  to  Vail,  just  quoted.  Vail  was 
not  only  perfecting  his  ideas  on  the  newly  projected  machine  which 
was  to  express  his  alphabet,  but  was  also  at  the  same  time  interesting 
his  father  and  brother,  especially  the  latter — who  is  still  residing  at 
Speedwell — in  the  scheme  for  telegraphing.  Professor  Morse,  still 
in  New  York  with  Professor  Gale,  wrote  : 

"  NEW  YORK,  October  24th,  1837. 

"ALFRED  VAIL,  ESQ.  :  Dear  Sir, — The  wire  proves  to  be  not  good, 
18 


274  ALFRED     VAIL. 

it  is  made  of  bad  copper,  and  is  brittle,  and  in  short  lengths ;  we 
have  much  trouble  and  consume  much  time  in  soldering.  The  spark 
passes  freely  as  yet,  three  and  a  half  miles,  and  magnetizes  well  at 
that  distance,  though  evidently  with  diminished  strength,  which 
would  seem  to  indicate  that  there  is  a  limit  somewhere.  We  have 
just  heard  that  Professor  Wheatstone  has  tried  an  experiment  with 
his  method,  twenty  miles  with  success.  We  have,  therefore,  nothing 
to  fear.  We  also  learn  that  he  has  sent  to  take  out  a  patent  in  this 
country.  My  Caveat  will  be  in  his  way.  Professor  Locke,  of  Cin- 
cinnati, who  has  just  returned,  tells  me  all  this,  and  he  knows 
Wheatstone  and  his  whole  plan,  and  says  there  are  no  less  than  six 
disputants  for  the  priority  of  the  invention  in  England. 
"More  when  I  see  you. 

"  Truly  yours,  etc.,  SAMUEL  F.  B.  MORSE." 

The  "more  when  I  see  you"  of  this  second  letter  indicates  the 
early  return  of  Professor  Morse  to  Speedwell  to  note  the  progress  of 
his  young  associate  and  at  the  same  time  to  busy  himself  in  painting  the 
portraits  of  several  members  of  Judge  Vail's  household,  in  fulfillment 
of  the  arrangement  referred  to  in  the  first  letter.  The  next  three 
weeks  were  occupied  by  him  in  this  way,  while  Alfred  Vail  was 
earnestly  bringing  forward  the  since  noted  Morse  machine.  Dr. 
John  Locke,  who  brought  the  news  to  Professor  Morse  of  so  many 
claimants  in  England  for  honors  in  connection  with  the  discovery  of 
the  telegraph,  was  himself  for  a  considerable  period  absorbed  in  ex- 
periments in  the  same  direction  at  his  home  in  Cincinnati.  Here  we 
copy  a  letter  announcing  Professor  Morse's  safe  return  from  Speed- 
well, etc.  : 

"NEW  YORK,  November  i3th,  1837. 

"  DEAR  SIR  :  I  write  a  hasty  line  just  to  say  that  I  arrived  safely 
and  am  well  this  morning,  so  that  I  have  not  suffered  by  my  journey. 
I  arrived  full  in  time  to  see  the  experiment  the  professor  was  making 
with  the  entire  ten  miles,  and  you  will  be  gratified  and  agreeably 
surprised  when  I  inform  you  that  the  result  now  is  that  with  a  little 
addition  of  wire  to^the  coils  of  the  small  magnet  which  I  had  all 
along  used,  the  power  was  as  great  apparently  through  ten  as  through 
three  miles.  This  result  has  surprised  us  all,  yet  there  is  no  mis- 
take, and  I  conceive  settles  the  whole  matter. 

"In  haste,  but  truly  yours,  SAMUEL  F.  B.  MORSE." 

Dawn  came  at  last,  and  with  it  quickening  warmth.  The  winter 
weeks  had  been  long  to  the  patient  genius  and  artisan,  and  also  to 
the  expectant  artist,  Alfred  Vail  completed  his  machine  January  6th, 
1838,  over  which  a  jubilee  was  held,  Judge  Vail  becoming  quite 
enthusiastic.  During  these  months  Dr.  Gale  had  been  diligent  in 
his  part  of  the  labor  experimenting  in  New  York.  Soon  every  thing 


EXHIBITIONS     OF     THE     NEW     MACHINE.  275 

was  ready  for  a  public  demonstration  of  the  telegraph.  At  the  jubilee 
a  party  of  Morristown  gentlemen  were  present  by  invitation,  to  wit- 
ness the  experiment  of  sending  messages  from  the  first  floor  of  the  old 
cotton  factory  to  the  attic.  The  next  experiment,  or  rather  the  next 
work  of  the  inventors  was  in  laying  a  line  of  wire  from  Speedwell  to 
Morristown,  placing  the  wire  along  the  ground  inside  the  fence,  on 
which  a  successful  trial  was  made. 

Now,  the  creature  was  truly  born  anew,  and  wholly  regenerated 
was  ready  to  become  a  true  missionary  to  the  benighted.  Much  labor 
was  spent  in  the  succeeding  five  years  in  endeavors  to  enlighten  the 
heathen  of  America  and  Europe.  The  parents  of  the  child  took  it 
in  their  arms  and  moved  off.  They  gave  "  its  first  exhibitions  to  the 
New  York  public,"  next  "  to  the  Franklin  Institute  in  Philadelphia," 
then  at  Washington  to  Congress  and  the  Cabinet  for  three  months, 
following  January,  as  Professor  Morse  avers  in  one  of  his  published 
statements. 

We  here  copy  a  bill  from  the  original  in  the  handwriting  of  Prof. 
Morse,  which  may  throw  some  light  on  the  relations  then  existing 
between  the  parties  as  to  pecuniary  matters,  and  also  in  regard  to 
what  was  passing  at  the  time  : 

NEW  YORK,  April  n,  1838. 
A.  Vail  in  account  with  S.  F.  B.  Morse  for  expenses  of  patent,  etc. 

Fare  to  Philadelphia  .................................  :  .......................  $3  oo 

Breakfast  .  .....................................................................  50 

Porterage  ....................................................................  ..  25 

Fare  to  Baltimore  ............................................................  ..  3  oo 

Dinner  ...........................................................................  25 

Porterage  and  omnibus  ......................................................  50 

Bill  at  Baltimore  (overnight)  ..............................................  I   50 

Porterage  ........................................................................  25 

Porterage  to  cars  ..............................................................  25 

Fare  to  Washington  ..........................................................  2  50 

Porterage  ........................................................................  25 

Bill  at  FuHer's  .................................................................  21  75 

Fare  from  Washington  to  Baltimore  ......................................  2  50 

Porterage  ........................................................................  25 

Bill  at  Baltimore  (Sunday)  ...........................  ..  .....................  3 

Porterage  and  servant  .................................................  1  ..... 

Fare  in  steamboat  to  Philadelphia  .......................................  2  50 

Dinner  ....................................................  ..  .....................  50 

Porterage  and  omnibus  to  cars  ............................................ 

Fare  to  New  York  ...........................................................  5  oo 

Porterage  ........................................................................  25 

Tea  ..............  *  ...............................................................  50 

Lodging  at  Bunker's  .........................................................  50 


Deduct  Sunday  at  Baltimore  ...............................................     3  75 


276  ALFRED    VAIL. 

As  soon  as  he  could  well  get  off  after  failing  to  do  any  thing 
practically  beneficial  at  Washington,  Professor  Morse  left  for  Europe 
under  the  patronage  of  his  friends  at  Speedwell,  as  is  plainly  shown 
from  what  he  wrote  to  Mr.  Vail  in  the  first  letter,  copied  in  this 
sketch.  We  now  copy  from  a  letter  to  Alfred  Vail,  dated 

"PARIS,  October  n,  1838. 

"I  exhibited  the  telegraph  to  the  Institute,  and  the  sensation  pro- 
duced was  as  striking  as  at  Washington.  It  was  evident  that  hitherto 
the  assembled  science  of  Europe  had  considered  the  plan  of  an  electric 
telegraph  as  ingenious,  but  visionary,  and  like  aeronautic  navigation, 
practicable  in  little  more  than  theory  and  destined  to  be  useless.  I 
can  not  describe  to  you  the  scene  at  the  Institute  when  your  box  with 
the  registering  machine,  just  as  it  left  Speedwell,  was  placed  upon 
the  table,  and  surrounded  by  the  most  distinguished  men  of  all 
Europe,  celebrated  in  the  various  arts  and  sciences — Arago,  Baron 
Humboldt,  Guy  Lassac,  and  a  host  of  others  whose  names  are  stars 
that  shine  in  both  hemispheres.  Arago  described  it  to  them,  and  I 
showed  its  action.  A  buzz  of  admiration  and  approbation  filled  the 
whole  hall,  and  the  exclamations  '  extraordinaire ','  '  tres  bienj  '  tres 
admirable,'  I  heard  on  all  sides.  The  sentiment  was  universal." 

We  next  give  an  extract  from  a  letter  of  Professor  Morse  to  his 
brother,  Sidney  E.  Morse,  written  a  few  days  earlier : 

,         "  PARIS,  October  i,  1838. 
"  MY  DEAR  BROTHER  : 

"  I  have  obtained  a  patent  in  France,  although  Wheatstone  has  also 
a  patent  here  for  his  invention.  They  do  not  interfere,  except  that 
mine  is  pronounced  far  superior  in  simplicity  and  practicability. 
They  are  different  inventions.  After  waiting  until  it  was  safe  to 
exhibit  my  invention,  I  was  desirous  that  the  king  should  see  it, 
and  this  would  doubtless  have  been  effected  before  this,  but  for  the 
birth  at  the  moment  of  the  Count  de  Paris.  In  the  mean  time, 
through  the  kindness  of  Mr.  Warden,  late  cur  Consul  and  member 
of  the  Institute,  I  was  introduced  to  the  celebrated  Arago,  who  was 
desirous  of  seeing  my  telegraph.  I  carried  it  to  the  Observatory 
one  morning  and  showed  him  its  operation,  with  which  he  was 
delighted ;  he  told  me  he  had  been  written  to  by  the  Administrator 
in  Chief  of  the  Telegraphs  in  France,  to  obtain  information  in  regard 
to  Wheatstone's  telegraph,  for  that  the  Government  were  about  to  try 
an  experiment  with  the  electric  telegraph  on  an  extended  scale,  and 
were  desirous  of  ascertaining,  among  the  various  plans  before  the  pub- 
lic, which  was  the  best.  M.  Arago  immediately  offered  me  a  letter 
to  M.  Foy,  the  Administrator  of  the  Telegraph,  in  which  he  com- 
mends my  telegraph.  ...... 


HIS     MACHINE     IN    PARIS,     LONDON,     ETC.  277 

"  In  the  mean  time,  at  the  request  of  M.  Arago,  I  consented  to  ex- 
hibit it  to  the  Institute  at  one  of  their  sittings,  and  on  the  loth  of 
September  I  found  myself  in  the  midst  of  the  most  celebrated  scientific 
men  of  the  world.  M.  Arago  explained  in  the  most  lucid  manner 
the  details  and  actions  of  the  instrument,  and  I  perceived  by  the  ex- 
pression of  face,  and  the  exclamations  of  surprise  and  gratification 
which  were  uttered  by  the  members,  as  they  crowded  around  the 
table,  that  the  telegraph  had  won  their  regard. 

"In  a  few  days  the  various  journals  of  Paris  spoke  in  its  praise." 


In  the  controversy  with  Professor  Henry  in  1853,  Professor  Morse, 
as  has  been  noticed,  speaks  of  exhibiting  his  telegraph  at  Washington 
for  three  months  in  the  early  part  of  1838,  but  by  the  .  statement  of 
expenses  incurred  on  his  trip  to  that  city,  rendered  to  Mr.  Vail  under 
date  of  April  n,  '38,  which  we  have  printed  for  the  first  time,  a  shade  of 
doubt  is  cast  upon  Professor  Morse's  accuracy  as  to  the  time  of  ex- 
perimenting in  Washington  before  Congress  and  the  Cabinet.  The 
fact  that  Morse's  patent  was  ordered  to  be  issued  May  ist,  1838,  is 
decisive  as  to  the  bill  being  correctly  rendered,  as  we  have  printed 
it.  In  the  same  paragraph  as  that  in  which  the  three  months  at  Wash- 
ington is  spoken  of,  Professor  Morse  states  also  that  his  telegraph 
"  was  exhibited  to  a  large  audience  of  a  thousand  or  more  persons, 
through  ten  miles  of  wire,  in  the  New  York  City  University,  in  the 
autumn  of  1837,"  and  yet  we  have  now  lying  before  us  a  letter  from 
him  in  which  he  affirms  that  the  first  trial  at  "  Speedwell,  January  6, 
1838,"  was  with  a  "line  of  about  three  miles,"  which  "was  the 
longest  which  at  that  time  had  been  made."  He  further  says,  in 
the  same  letter,  "  ten  miles  of  wire,  in  two  spools  of  five  miles  each, 
were  prepared  at  the  University,  to  exhibit  to  Congress  the  operations 
of  the  telegraph  at  Washington  ;  and  the  trial  at  Speedwell  was  made 
when  about  three  miles  had  been  completed,  and  adds:  "You  will 
see  in  Mr.  Alfred  Vail's  work,  The  American  Electro-magnetic  Tele- 
graph, at  pages  74,  75,  the  results  of  an  experiment  on  a  short  wire 
of  1,700  feet,  which  I  made  on  the  4th  of  September,  1837,  in  the 
University." 

The  letters  to  Mr.  Vail  and  to  Sidney  E.  Morse  show  the  progress 
made  to  October  n,  '38,  in  Paris.  During  that  autumn,  in  the  same 
city,  thousands  of  visitors  flocked  to  see  his  experiments.  In  the 
month  of  March,  1839,  the  exhibitions  were  made  to  the  members 
of  the  Royal  Society,  of  both  Houses  of  Parliament,  and  the  Lords 
of  the  Admirality  at  Lord  Lincoln's  in  London,  afterwards  the 
Duke  of  Newcastle, — the  same  gentleman  who  afterwards  accompanied 
the  Prince  of  Wales  in  his  journey  through  the  United  States.  Prof. 
Morse  returned  to  New  York  in  April,  1839,  with  the  expectation  of 
proceeding,  within  five  or  six  weeks  to  Russia  to  establish  the  tele- 
graph in  that  country,  under  a  contract  which  he  had  made  with 


278  ALFRED     VAIL. 

Baron  Meyendorff,  a  Russian  Government  agent.  During  Professor 
Morse's  absence  in  Europe,  his  associate,  Dr.  Gale,  loaned  Professor 
Henry,  then  at  Princeton,  one  of  the  spools  containing  five  miles  of 
copper  telegraph  wire,  with  which  interesting  experiments  were  made 
at  Princeton,  the  results  of  which  were  reported  by  Professor  Henry, 
in  a  paper  read  before  the  American  Philosophical  Society,  November 
zd,  1838,  and  published  early  in  1839,  under  the  title  of  "  Contribu- 
tions to  Electricity  and  Magnetism."  A  copy  was  sent  to  Professor 
Morse  at  New  York,  which  he  found  awaiting  his  return.  This  led 
to  a  correspondence  between  the  two  professors,  manifesting  great 
kindness  on  both  sides,  which  was  pleasantly  continued  for  several 
years ;  but  these  relations,  unhappily,  were  broken  up  by  some  real  or 
fancied  neglect  of  Mr.  Vail — so  closely  associated  with  Professor 
Mo'rse — who  soon  wholly  disclaimed  the  charge,  and  stated  his  efforts 
to  procure  the  facts  and  give  Professor  Henry  due  credit  for  his 
discoveries  in  Electro-magnetism  in  his  (Vail's)book  on  the  telegraph. 
Two  letters  from  Professor  Henry  to  Professor  Morse,  which  are  of 
historical  interest,  we  reproduce — the  italics  are  our  own  : 

"  PRINCETON,  May  6th,  1839. 

"DEAR  SIR, — Your  favor  of  the  24th  ult.,  came  to  Princeton 
during  my  absence,  which  will  account  for  the  long  delay  of  my 
answer.  I  am  pleased  to  learn  that  you  fully  sanction  the  loan  which 
I  obtained  from  Dr.  Gale,  of  your  wire,  and  I  shall  be  happy  if  any 
of  the  results  are  found  to  have  a  practical  bearing  on  the  Electric 
Telegraph. 

"It  will  give  me  much  pleasure  to  see  you  in  Princeton  after 
this  week ;  my  engagements  will  not  then  interfere  with  our  com- 
munications on  the  subject  of  electricity.  During  this  week  I  shall 
be  almost  constantly  engaged  with  a  friend  in  some  scientific  labors 
which  we  are  prosecuting  together. 

"  I  am  acquainted  with  no  fact  which  would  lead  me  to  suppose 
that  the  project  of  the  Electro-magnetic  Telegraph  is  impracticable ; 
on  the  contrary,  I- believe  that  science  is  now  ripe  for  the  application, 
and  that  there  are  no  difficulties  in  the  way,  but  such  as  ingenuity 
and  enterprise  may  obviate.  But  what  form  of  the  apparatus,  or  what 
application  of  the  power  will  prove  best,  can,  I  believe,  be  only 
determined  by  careful  experiment.  I  can  say,  however,  that  so  far 
as  I  am  acquainted  with  the  minutiae  of  your  plan,  /  see  no  practical 
difficulty  in  the  way  of  its  application  for  comparatively  short  distances  ; 
but  if  the  length  of  the  wire  between  the  stations  be  great,  I  think 
that  some  other  modification  will  be  found  necessary,  in  order  to  develop 
a  sufficient  power  at  the  further  end  of  the  line.  I  shall,  however, 
be  happy  to  converse  freely  with  you  on  these  points  when  we  meet. 
In  the  mean  time  I  remain, 

"  With  much  respect  yours,  etc.,  JOSEPH  HENRY." 


OPINIONS   OF   PROFESSORS   MORSE   AND    HENRY.      279 

We  quote  from  Professor  Gale's  deposition,  on  this  interesting  point 
and  append  the  second  letter  of  Prof.  Henry: 

"  It  was  early  a  question  between  Professor  Morse  and  myself, 
where  was  the  limit  of  the  magnetic  power  to  move  a  lever.  I  ex- 
pressed a  doubt  whether  a  lever  could  be  moved  by  this  power,  at  a 
distance  of  twenty  miles,  and  my  settled  conviction  was,  that  it  could 
not  be  done  with  sufficient  force  to  mark  characters  on  paper  at  100 
miles  distance.  To  this  Professor  Morse  was  accustomed  to  reply — 
'  If  I  can  succeed  in  working  a  magnet  ten  miles,  I  can  go  round  the 
globe.'  The  chief  anxiety  at  this  stage  of  the  invention  was,  to  as- 
certain the  utmost  limit  of  the  distance  at  which  he  (Morse)  could 
work  or  move  a  lever  by  magnetic  power.  He  often  said  to  me — 
'  It  matters  not  how  delicate  the  movement  may  be  ;  if  I  can  obtain 
it  at  all,  it  is  all  I  want.'  Professor  Morse  often  referred  to  the 
number  of  stations  which  might  be  required,  and  which  he  observed 
would  add  to  the  complication  and  expense.  The  said  Morse  always 
expressed  his  confidence  of  success  in  propagating  magnetic  power 
through  any  distance  of  electric  conductors  which  circumstances 
might  render  desirable.  His  plan  was  thus  often  explained  to  me. 
' Suppose,'  said  Professor  Morse,  '  that  in  experimenting  on  twenty 
miles  of  wire,  we  should  find  that  the  power  of  magnetism  is  so  feeble 
that  it  will  but  move  a  lever  with  certainty  but  a  hair's  breadth  ; 
that  would  be  insufficient,  it  may  be,  to  write  or  print,  yet  it  would 
be  sufficient  to  close  and  break  another,  or  a  second,  twenty  miles 
further ;  and  this  second  circuit  could  in  the  same  manner  be  made 
to  break  and  close  a  third  circuit  twenty  miles  further ;  and  so  on, 
round  the  globe.'  " 

"  PRINCETON  COLLEGE,  February  24th,  1842. 

"  MY  DEAR  SIR, — /  am  pleased  to  hear  you  have  again  petitioned 
Congress,  in  reference  to  your  telegraph,  and  I  most  sincerely  hope  you 
will  succeed  in  convincing  our  representatives  of  the  importance  of  the 
invention.  In  this  you  may,  perhaps,  find  some  difficulty,  since,  in 
the  minds  of  many,  the  Electro-magnetic  Telegraph  is  associated  with 
the  various  chimerical  projects  constantly  presented  to  the  public,  and 
particularly  with  the  schemes,  so  popular  a  year  or  two  ago,  for  the 
application  of  electricity  as  a  moving  power  in  the  arts.  I  have  as- 
serted from  the  first,  that  all  attempts  of  this  kind  are  premature, 
and  made  without  a  proper  knowledge  of  scientific  principles.  The 
case  is,  however,  entirely  different  in  regard  to  the  Electro-magnetic 
Telegraph.  Science  is  now  fully  ripe  for  this  application,  and  I  have 
not  the  least  doubt,  if  proper  means  be  afforded,  of  the  perfect  suc- 
cess of  the  invention. 

"The  idea  of  transmitting  intelligence  to  a  distance  by  means  of 
electric  action,  has  been  suggested  by  various  persons  from  the  time 
of  Franklin  to  the  present ;  but  until  the  last  few  years,  or  since  the 
principal  discoveries  in  electro-magnetism,  all  attempts  to  reduce  it 


280  ALFRED     VAIL. 

to  practice  were  necessarily  unsuccessful.  The  mere  suggestion,  how- 
ever, of  a  scheme  of  this  kind,  is  a  matter  for  which  little  credit  can 
be  claimed,  since  it  is  one  which  would  naturally  arise  in  the  mind 
of  almost  any  person  familiar  with  the  phenomena  of  electricity  ;  but 
the  bringing  it  forward  at  the  proper  moment,  when  the  develop- 
ments of  science  are  able  to  furnish  the  means  of  certain  success, 
and  the  devising  a  plan  for  carrying  it  into  practical  operation,  are 
the  grounds  of  a  just  claim  to  scientific  reputation  as  well  as  public 
patronage. 

"  About  the  same  time  with  yourself,  Professor  Wheatstone,  of 
London,  and  Dr.  Steinheil,  of  Germany,  proposed  plans  of  the 
Electro-magnetic  Telegraph;  but  these  differ  as  much  from  yours  as 
the  nature  of  the  common  principle  would  well  permit ;  and  unless 
some  essential  improvements  have  lately  been  made  in  these  European 
plans,  I  should  prefer  the  one  invented  by  yourself. 

"  With  my  best  wishes  for  your  success,  I  remain,  with  much  esteem, 
"  Yours  truly,  (Signed)  JOSEPH  HENRY." 

We  now  insert  a  sentence  or  two  from  page  7  of  the  printed  copy 
of  Professor  Henry's  Communication  to  the  Board  of  Regents  of  the 
Smithsonian  Institution,  March,  1857.  "I  was  finally  compelled 
under  legal  process  to  return  to  Boston  from  Maine,  whither  I  had 
gone  on  a  visit,  and  to  give  evidence  on  the  subject.  I  distinctly 
declared  that  Professor  Morse  was  entitled  to  the  merit  of  combining 
and  applying  the  discoveries  of  others,  in  the  invention  of  the  best 
practical  form  of  the  telegraph.  My  testimony  tended  to  establish 
the  fact  that,  though  not  entitled  to  the  exclusive  use  of  the  electro- 
magnet for  telegraphic  purposes,  he  was  entitled  to  his  particular 
machine,  register,  alphabet,  etc." 

We  now  quote  from  Professor  Morse,  concerning  the  Morse-Vail 
alphabet  and  instrument : 

"  The  main  object  in  my  telegraphic  invention  is  Telegraphic  Re- 
cording, and  by  means  of  electro-magnetism.  The  new  alphabet,  ad- 
apted to  the  purpose,  is  to  be  marked  or  printed  at  a  distance.  This 
alphabet  is  formed  by  breaking  into  parts,  conventionally,  a  continu- 
ous line,  thus  : 

n  I  t        i        u  m  s  f  a 


and  by  different  combinations  of  the  longer  and  shorter  parts  of  such 
line,  with  the  longer  and  shorter  spaces  between  the  broken  parts, 
the  various  letters  are  formed.  These  letters  are  produced  at  a  dis- 
tance, by,  commanding  the  magnetic  power  of  a  galvanic  current,  in- 
duced in  an  electro-magnet,  causing  the  current  to  flow,  or  to  cease 
flowing  at  certain  determinate  intervals  of  time.  Duration,  both  in 
the  flow  and  the  cessation  of  the  current,  is  an  indispensable  element 


AN     INTERESTING    INQUIRY.  281 

in  the  formation  of  a  line,  and  also  of  a  space,  for  forming  the  letters. 
The  flow  of  the  current  of  galvanism,  and  consequently  the  magnetic 
power,  is  caused  by  closing  the  circuit ;  the  cessation  of  the  current, 
and  consequently  the  cessation  of  the  magnetic  power,  is  caused  by 
opening  the  circuit.  The  duration  of  a  line  is  marked  by  the  duration 
of  the  closing  ;  and  the  duration  for  a  space  is  marked  by  the  dura- 
tion of  the  opening  of  the  circuit.  Two  distinct  and  opposite  acts  are, 
therefore,  equally  necessary  in  forming  every  letter,  to  wit  :  closing 
and  opening  the  circuit.  The  closing  as  well  as  the  opening,  and  the 
opening  as  well  as  the  closing,  are  equally  and  alike  necessary  to  the 
result.  They  are  indissolubly  connected.  No  letter  can  be  formed 
but  by  the  conjoint  acts  of  closing  and  opening  the  circuit.  Hence,  to 
produce  the  one  or  the  other  of  these  two  acts,  at  pleasure,  it  is  plain 
that  the  instrument  at  a  station  must  be  so  constructed  as  to  be  con- 
trolled by  the  distant  operator,  enabling  him  to  produce,  at  any 
moment,  at  his  option,  either  of  these  two  acts,  to  wit,  the  closing 
or  opening  of  the  circuit." 

Professor  Henry,  it  will  have  been  perceived,  confined  Prof.  Morse's 
claim  to  the  very  alphabet  and  instruments,  which  are  now  claimed  as 
the  invention  of  Alfred  Vail.  The  question  naturally  comes  up,  why 
was  this  claim  for  Vail  not  asserted  in  the  lifetime  of  Prof.  Morse? 
We  reply,  that  it  was ;  and  in  due  time  it  will  be  seen  that  Prof. 
Morse  came  at  last  to  recognize  the  position  in  which  he  was  placed, 
by  the  pregnant  fact,  that  his  original  machine,  made  in  New  York, 
had  been,  by  his  own  action,  and  almost  of  necessity,  wholly  dis- 
carded, in  1837,  and  had  never  been  used  in  practical  telegraphing; 
while  the  alphabet  and  machine  which  Vail  had  conceived  and  brought 
forth  at  Speedwell,  was  in  universal  use  throughout  the  civilized  world, 
having  shown  and  maintained  its  superiority  over  all  competitors  during 
an  interval  of  twenty-eight  years  since  it  was  complete  in  its  present 
perfected  form,  and  began  its  service  on  the  original  Baltimore  and 
Washington  line,  in  practical  telegraphing.  Of  course  there  was  not 
the  same  lightness  of  form  and  perfection  of  finish,  in  the  workman- 
ship of  the  first  instruments,  but  with  the  exceptions  as  to  size  and 
clumsiness  the  original  instrument  used  in  the  Baltimore  office  is  al- 
most exactly  similar  to  those  in  use  at  present. 

It  may  be  truly  said  of  Alfred  Vail  that  he  was  possessed  of  all  the 
qualities  which  usually  belong  to  high  inventive  genius.  Of  his  father 
it  had  been  said  by  his  father's  mother  that  Stephen  was  a  "  born 
mechanic;"  perhaps  as  was  said  of  some  one,  it  might  be  said  of 
Alfred  that  "  he  was  born  with  a  hammer  in  his  hand."  On  leaving 
Morris  Academy  he  entered  his  father's  machine  shops  and  diligently 
applied  himself,  more  especially  to  work  in  the  brass  foundry.  His 
health  was  generally  delicate  ;  he  was,  however,  in  accordance  with 
the  rules  of  the  Works  regularly  in  his  place  ;  and  frequently  brought 
from  the  foundry  for  the  admiration  of  his  family  and  friends 


282  ALFRED     VAIL. 

evidences  of  his  skill  as  an  artisan  and  also  as  an  inventor.  Before 
attaining  his  majority  he  had  become  deeply  interested  in  religious 
subjects,  and  had  determined  to  study  for  the  ministry.  This  deter- 
mination was  a  sore  disappointment  to  his  father,  who,  with  his  keen 
practical  eye  saw  the  natural  gifts  of  his  son  for  the  business  in  which 
he  was  engaged.  He  had  looked  forward  with  pride  and  hope  to 
the  time  when  Alfred  should  become  a  partner  with  him,  and  have 
full  scope  given  for  the  use  of  his  best  abilities  and  skill.  When  these 
hopes  were  dashed,  there  was  bitter  disappointment,  which  Judge  Vail 
could  not  for  years  afterward  wholly  conceal.  The  younger  son, 
however,  soon  became  interested  in  the  business,  and  the  firm  of 
Stephen  Vail  &  Son  had  a  long  career  of  great  prosperity. 

Soon  after  graduating,  Alfred  returned  home,  associated  with  Prof. 
Morse,  by  the  contract  quoted  in  the  sketch  of  that  gentleman,  and 
within  eight  months  following  had  been  with  him  at  New  York, 
Philadelphia,  and  Washington,  as  we  have  already  noted,  exhibiting 
the  new  invention.  The  junior  member  of  the  Speedwell  firm  had 
much  to  do  with  supplying  the  means  for  attendant  expenses  at  that 
time,  and  during  the  several  years  forward  to  the  appropriation  by 
Congress,  passed  March  3d,  1843.  For  the  four  years  intervening, 
from  1839  to  1843,  tne  entire  business  interests  of  the  country  were 
greatly  depressed.  The  country  had  seen  profound  political  changes. 
Mr.  Van  Buren's  presidential  term  had  ended,  and  President  Harrison 
within  one  short  month,  in  the  spring  of  1841,  had  been  inducted  into 
office,  and  from  the  White  House  carried  to  his  tomb.  John  Tyler 
became  President,  satisfying  neither  Whigs, — who  elected  him  to  the 
Vice-Presidency, — or  the  Democrats, — who  opposed  his  election, — by 
his  course  as  President.  National  affairs  and  the  business  of  the  peo- 
ple were  in  an  unsettled  condition.  Congress  enacted  a  general  Bank- 
rupt law  early  in  Tyler's  administration,  and  amid  the  general  up- 
heaval in  public  and  private  affairs  the  people  were  dejected,  and  in 
no  condition  to  make  new  private  ventures,  or  to  allow  their  re- 
presentatives in  Congress  to  expend  the  public  moneys  in  chimerical 
schemes  of  any  sort.  The  want  of  success  with  Congress  for  Professor 
Morse's  project  may,  in  the  light  of  these  facts,  be  readily  understood 
and  properly  appreciated. 

Alfred  Vail  shared  in  all  the  disappointments  and  keen  anxieties 
which  weighed  down  Professor  Morse  through  the  struggles  of  those 
weary  years  of  delay  and  trial.  "  His  faith  in  the  final  success  of  the 
enterprise,"  spoken  of  by  his  associate,  never  forsook  him.  It  was  in 
no  sense  a  wild  or  visionary  scheme  to  him,  he  had  measured  it  from 
center  to  circumference,  and  had  an  earnest  realization  of  what  the 
effect  of  his  labor  would  be,  and  felt  an  unswerving  Christian  confi- 
dence in  the  final  success  of  the  system  which  he  had  been  instru- 
mental in  producing.  Mean  time  he  had  married,  and  becom- 
ing interested  in  building  locomotives,  with  his  father  and  brother 
for  associates,  he  removed  to  Philadelphia  and  represented  their  in- 


MODES    OF    BUILDING    THE    TELEGRAPH.  283 

terests  and  his  own  in  the  firm  of  Baldwin,  Vail,  cV5  Hufty.  Mr. 
Matthew  Baldwin  afterward  took  the  business  and  continued  it  for 
many  years  with  signal  success,  and,  until  his  decease,  when  it  passed 
into  the  hands  of  M.  Baird  &  Co. 

The  appropriation  made  by  Congress,  on  the  last  night  of  the  ses- 
sion, March  3d,  1843,  f°r  building  the  experimental  Baltimbre  and 
Washington  line  of  telegraph,  brought  into  immediate  requisition  the 
scientific  and  mechanical  services  of  Mr.  Vail.  He  entered  upon 
his  duties^  in  completion  of  his  pet  scheme,  with  all  the  earnestness 
and  patience  for  which  he  was  so  distinguished.  There  were  fourteen 
months  consumed  in  obtaining  the  materials  and  getting  the  line 
in  order.  The  wire  was  of  copper,  and  covered,  like  that  used  in 
the  experimental  trial  at  Morristown,  with  cotton  and  a  coating  of  gum- 
shellac.  The  proposal  to  suspend  it  on  poles  was  laughed  at,  as  it  would, 
it  was  supposed,  be  cut  down  and  sold  as  fast  as  it  could  be  put  up. 
It  was  therefore  inclosed  in  lead  pipe  and  laid  in  the  ground,  and 
covered  up  with  a  depth  of  two  feet  of  earth ;  and  even  then  it  was 
seriously  debated  whether  or  not  it  should  be  protected  by  a  half 
pipe  of  heavy  iron  laid  over  it,  so  as  to  render  it  more  difficult  of 
access.  After  several  miles  had  been  laid,  tests  were  applied,  and 
the  wire  found  to  be  useless.  It  was  then  dug  up  and  suspended  on 
posts,  as  at  the  present  day.  Professor  Morse  says  it  was  abandoned 
in  the  winter  of  1843-44,  among  other  reasons,  in  consequence  of 
ascertaining  that  in  the  process  of  inserting  the  wire  into  the  pipe 
(which  was,  at  the  moment  of  forming  the  pipe  from  the  lead  at  melt- 
ing heat),  the  insulating  covering  of  the  wires  had  become  charred  at 
various  and  numerous  points  of  the  line  to  such  an  extent  that  greater 
delay  and  expense  would  be  necessary  to  repair  the  damages  than  to 
put  the  wire  upon  posts.  At  length  the  wire  was  partly  in  working 
condition,  Mr.  Morse  as  superintendent  of  the  Electro-magnetic  Tel- 
egraph, was  stationed  in  Washington,  and  Alfred  Vail  as  assistant,  was 
located,  at  first,  at  the  Junction  House  of  the  Annapolis  and  Balti- 
more Railroad. 

The  following  will  show  the  method  of  exciting  the  public  pulse 
adopted  by  these  original  operators. 

Extracts  from  letters  of  Morse  to  Vail : 

"WASHINGTON  D.  C.,  May  i,  1844. 

.  .  .  .  "  Get  from  passengers  in  the  cars  all  the  news  you  can 
and  transmit.  A  good  way  of  exciting  wonder  will  be  to  tell  the 
passengers  to  give  you  some  short  sentence  to  send  me,  and  let  them 
note  the  time  and  call  at  the  Capitol  to  verify  the  time  I  received  it. 
Before  transmitting,  notify  me,  (48).  Your  message  to-day  that  '  the 
passengers  in  the  cars  gave  three  cheers  for  Henry  Clay,'  excited  the 
highest  wonder  in  the  passenger  who  gave  it  to  you  to  send,  when 
he  found  it  verified  at  the  Capitol." 


284  ALFRED    VAIL. 

"WASHINGTON,  May  u,  1844. 

"  Every  thing  worked  well  yesterday,  but  there  is  one  defect  in 
your  writing.  Make  a  longer  space  between  each  letter,  and  a  still 
longer  space  between  each  word.  I  shall  have  a  great  crowd  to-day, 
and  wish  all  things  to  go  off  well.  Many  M.  C.'s  will  be  present; 
perhaps  Mr.  Clay ;  give  me  news  by  the  cars.  When  the  cars  come 
along  try  and  get  a  newspaper  from  Philadelphia  or  New  York,  and 
give  items  of  intelligence.  The  arrival  of  the  cars  at  the  Junction 
begins  to  excite  here  the  greatest  interest,  and  both  morning  and 
evening  I  have  had  my  room  thronged." 

In  the  sketch  of  Professor  Morse  we  had  the  details  of  the  great 
demonstration  at  evening  (following  the  ceremonies  at  Central  Park), 
when  even  China  joined  in  the  ovation,  and  now  by  way  of  contrast 
we  give  the  early  prattle  of  the  telegraph  as  it  chatted  between  Wash- 
ington and  Baltimore  in  May,  1844.  The  following  was  copied  from 
a  diary  kept  at  the  time  by  Mr.  Vail. 

In  the  correspondence  V.  standing  for  Vail,  and  M.  for  Morse. 

"  BALTIMORE,  May  25,  1844. 

"What  hath  God  wrought?  V.     Yes,  M. 
"  The  city  of  Baltimore,  V.     Yes,  M. 
"  Stop  a  few  minutes,  M.     Yes,  V. 

"  MAY  27th. 

"  I  am  ready,  M.  Yes,  V.  Have  you  any  news,  M.  ?  No,  V. 
Mr.  Saxton's  respects  to  you,  M.  My  respects  to  him,  V. 

"What  time  have  you?  V.  Nine  o'clock  twenty-seven  minutes, 
M.  What  is  your  time,  M.  ?  Nine  o'clock  twenty-eight  minutes, 
V.  What  weather  have  you,  M.  ?  Cloudy,  V.  Separate  your  words 
more,  V.  Oil  your  clock-work,  V.  Buchanan  stock  said  to  be 
rising,  V.  I  have  a  great  crowd  at  my  window,  M.  Oh  !  ah !  V. 
A  Van  Buren  cannon  in  front  with  a  fox-tail  upon  it,  V.  I  wait  for 
news,  M.  State  Convention  met  at  the  Odeon,  ten  o'clock,  A.  M. 
Dr.  Humphries  of  Somerset,  Chairman ;  Thos.  Perry,  of  Alleghany, 
Secretary,"  etc. 

At  the  suggestion  of  his  relative,  Dr.  Wm.  P.  Vail,  Alfred  Vail,  in 
1850,  communicated  to  him  in  writing  some  minor  items  of  interest 
which  we  now  substantially  reproduce  : 

"The  telegraph  was  shown  without  charge  until  April  ist,  1845. 
Congress,  during  the  session  of  1844-45,  niade  an  appropriation  of 
$8,000,  to  keep  it  in  operation  during  the  year,  placing  it  under  the 
supervision  of  the  Postmaster-General.  He  ordered  a  tariff  of 
charges  of  one  cent  for  every  four  characters,  appointing  as  operators 
of  the  line,  Mr.  Vail  for  Washington,  and  H.  J.  Rogers  for  Baltimore. 
"This  commenced  April  ist,  1845,  a°d  was  to  test  the  profitable- 


Vnil's    Original    Instrument— Wa8h'n    and     Bait.    Line. 


AN     INQUISITIVE     POLITICIAN.  285 

ness  of  the  enterprise.  Mr.  Polk  had  just  been  inaugurated,  and  the 
city  was  filled  with  persons  seeking  office.  A  gentleman  of  Virginia 
came  to  the  office  of  the  telegraph  April  ist,  and  desired  to  see  its 
operation  without  cost.  The  oath  of  office  being  fresh  in  the  mind 
of  the  operator,  the  gentleman  was  told  of  the  rates  of  charges, 
and  in  compliance  with  his  wishes  it  was  suggested  that  he  might 
ask  Baltimore  regarding  the  weather,  etc.  This  he  refused  to 
do,  and  coaxed,  argued,  and  threatened.  He  said  there  could  be  no 
harm  in  showing  its  operation,  as  that  was  all  he  wanted.  He  was 
told  of  the  oath  just  taken  by  the  incumbent,  and  of  the  intention 
to  observe  it  faithfully.  He  stated  he  had  no  change.  In  reply  he 
was  told,  that  if  he  would  call  upon  the  Postmaster-General,  and  ob- 
tain his  consent,  the  operation  should  be  shown  him  gratis.  He 
stated  that  he  knew  the  Postmaster-General,  and  had  considerable 
influence  with  some  of  the  officers  of  Government,  and  that  he,  the 
operator,  had  better  show  it  to  him  at  once,  intimating  that  he  might  be 
subjected  to  some  peril  by  refusing.  On  being  told  that  the  operator 
did  not  think  that  he  was  at  liberty  to  use  the  property  of  the  Gov- 
ernment for  individual  benefit  when  under  oath  to  exact  pay,  the 
gentleman  left  the  office  in  no  pleasant  mood. 

"Such  was  the  patronage  received  by  the  Washington  office  on  the 
ist,  2d,  and  3d  of  April.  On  the  4th  the  same  gentleman  '  turned 
up'  again,  and  repeated  some  of  his  former  arguments.  He  was 
asked  if  he  had  seen  the  Postmaster-General,  and  obtained  his  con- 
sent. He  replied  he  had  not.  After  considerable  discussion,  which 
was  rather  amusing  than  vexatious,  he  said  that  he  had  nothing  less 
than  a  twenty-dollar  bill,  and  one  cent,  all  of  which  he  pulled  out 
of  his  breeches'  pocket.  He  was  told  that  he  could  have  a  cent's 
worth  of  telegraphing,  if  that  would  answer,  to  which  he  agreed. 
After  his  many  maneuvers,  and  his  long  agony,  the  gentleman  was 
finally  gratified  in  the  following  manner  :  Washington  asked  Balti- 
more, 4,  which  means,  in  the  list  of  signals —  What  time  is  it  ?  Bal- 
timore replied,  i,  which  meant — one  tf  clock.  The  amount  of  the 
operation  was  one  character  each  way,  making  two  in  all,  which,  at 
the  rate  of  four  for  a  cent,  would  amount  to  half  a  cent  exactly. 
He  laid  down  his  cent,  but  he  was  told  that  half  a  cent  would  suffice, 
if  he  could  produce  the  change.  This  he  declined  to  do,  and  gave 
the  whole  cent,  after  which,  being  satisfied,  he  left  the  office. 

"  Such  was  the  income  of  the  Washington  office  for  the  first  four 
days  of  April,  1845.  On  the  5th,  twelve  and  a  half  cents  were  re- 
ceived. The  6th  was  the  Sabbath.  On  the  yth,  the  receipts  ran  up 
to  sixty  cents;  on  the  8th,  to  $1.32;  on  the  9th,  to  $1.04.  It  is 
worthy  of  remark,  said  Mr.  Vail,  that  more  business  was  done  by  the 
merchants  after  the  tariff  was  laid  than  when  the  service  was  gratu- 
itous. 

"  The  above  details  may  strike  many  as  very  trifling  and  undigni- 
fied. So  they  are  in  themselves;  but  therein  consists  their  charm, 


286  ALFRED     VAIL. 

and  their  relevancy.  Deep  in  our  nature  there  is  a  principle  that 
loves  to  contrast  small  beginnings  with  grand  results.  History  is  full 
of  this.  Development  is  characteristic  of  the  works  of  God,  and  of 
man  as  well." 

The  sole  idea,  then,  was  to  get  appropriations  from  Congress,  to  ex- 
tend the  lines  of  telegraph ;  but  Morse  and  Vail  were  not  successful 
in  their  endeavors  to  get  such  an  appropriation  for  completing  a  line 
to  New  York  from  Baltimore,  and  consequently  they  felt  dispirited 
and  discouraged.  The  Hon.  Amos  Kendall,  who  had  been  Postmas- 
ter-General the  latter  part  of  Gen.  Jackson's  term  as  President,  and 
also  under  Mr.  Van  Buren,  had  been  consulted  with,  and  had  thrown 
out  the  suggestion  that  he  would  be  glad /to  talk  over  the  idea  of  mak- 
ing the  telegraph  profitable  as  a  private  enterprise,  should  Congress 
fail  to  make  an  appropriation.  The  result  was  that  in  March,  1845,  a 
contract  was  made  between  Mr.  Kendall  and  the  original  Morse  pat- 
entees— Morse,  Vail,  and  Gale.  Morse  had  previously  sold  a  fourth 
interest' to  Hon.  F.  O.  J.  Smith,  of  Portland,  Me.,  who,  as  a  member 
of  Congress,  and  chairman  of  the  Committee  on  Commerce,  had  been 
very  active  in  procuring  the  first  appropriation  for  the  line  to  Balti- 
more. By  his  contract  Mr.  Kendall  became  the  agent  of  the  three 
original  associates,  who  vested  in  him  the  power  to  manage  and  dis- 
pose of  their  interest  according  to  his  discretion.  He  was  to  receive 
10  per  cent,  on  the  first  hundred  thousand  dollars  and  one-half  of  all 
sales  made  over  one  hundred  thousand  dollars. 

No  man  by  previous  training,  native  integrity  and  ability,  and  ac- 
quired skill,  could  have  been  more  admirably  fitted  for  such  a  trust 
than  was  Mr.  Kendall.  He  was  an  attorney,  of  superior  attainments, 
with  a  large  experience  in  the  public  office,  which  above  all  others  could 
give  him  the  best  possible  facilities  for  becoming  acquainted  with  the 
wants  of  the  public  in  the  special  direction  in  which  he  was  now  to 
be  occupied.  In  the  language  of  his  biographer,  "  independently  of 
the  pecuniary  advantages  which  he  confidently  believed  would  follow 
its  judicious  management,  the  subject  had  a  peculiar  fascination  for  a 
mind  like  Mr.  Kendall's.  It  called  into  requisition  his  best  execu- 
tive ability,  in  the  formation  and  administration  of  new  telegraph 
companies,"  during  a  period  of  fifteen  years.  We  could  wish  that 
Mr.  Kendall's  biographer  had  found  place  in  his  nearly  seven  hundred 
pages  for  at  least  a  brief  outline  of  his  doings  in  connection  with  the 
telegraph ;  but,  excepting  brief  allusions  in  a  few  letters  written  to 
his  family  at  home  by  Mr.  Kendall  when  out  on  journeys,  there  are 
scarcely  three  pages  in  the  volume  pertaining  to  the  subject.* 

*  His  journal  brings  to  light  some  interesting  and  striking  contrasts  to  present 
modes  of  travel.  He  was  four  days  in  going  from  Boston  to  New  York,  two  from 
there  to  Philadelphia,  two  more  to  Baltimore,  and  one  from  there  to  Washington. 
From  Washington  to  Pittsburg  occupied  nine  days ;  beyond  that  point  there  were  no 
public  conveyances.  He  went  down  the  Ohio  in  a  flatboat  to  Maysville,  from  there 
to  Cincinnati  in  a  skiff,  and  from  thence  on  foot  to  Lexington.  He  left  Boston  on 


TELEGRAPH   INTRODUCED   INTO   EUROPE.     287 

Mr.  Kendall  was  two  years  the  senior  of  Prof.  Morse,  and  was,  like 
Morse,  a  native  of  Massachusetts.  He  graduated  at  Dartmouth  Col- 
lege, and  in  1816  emigrated  to  Lexington,  Ky.,  and  was  soon  engaged 
in  teaching  in  the  family  of  the  Hon.  Henry  Clay,  and  in  prosecut- 
ing his  law  studies.  His  trip  required  over  a  month  of  constant 
travel. 

In  less  than  ninety  days  after  he  had  control,  Mr.  Kendall  was  in 
conference  with  Mr.  Butterfield  *  and  others  in  New  York,  who  had 
proposed  to  build  a  line  from  Buffalo  to  Springfield,  there  to  connect 
with  the  projected  line  from  New  York  to  Boston.  A  line  was  early 
established  between  New  York  and  Montreal ;  another  from  Baltimore 
to  Harrisburg  ;  one  from  there  to  Reading  ;  another  from  Philadelphia 
to  Pottsville.  Many  lines  were  built  by  O'Reilly  and  others  without 
waiting  for  arrangements  under  Morse's  patent.  House  used  his  in- 
strument on  a  line  from  Cincinnati  to  Jeffersonville,  Ind.,  opposite 
Louisville,  and  sent  his  first  printed  dispatch  over  that  line  in  the 
autumn  of  1847.  ^r-  O'Reilly  was  especially  active  and  energetic 
in  pushing  his  rival  lines,  and  Mr.  Kendall  had  his  time  and  atten- 
tion largely  occupied  in  asserting  in  the  courts  the  rights  of  the  Morse 
patentees.  Ezra  Cornell,  since  made  so  famous  by  his  large  benefac- 
tions for  educational  purposes,  laid  the  foundations  of  his  large  fortune 
by  persevering  labors  in  establishing  new  lines  of  telegraph. 

The  early  and  wide-spread  use  of  the  Morse  system  in  Europe  is 
attributable  beyond  question  to  the  dashing  energy  of  two  young  men, 
whose,  fathers  were  New  York  publishers  until  the  catastrophes  imme- 
diately following  the  commercial  crisis  of  1837.  In  the  year  1848, 
two  young  New  Yorkers,  Chas.  Robinson,  aged  23,  and  Chas.  -L. 
^Chapin,  aged  19,  having  each  had  a  few  years'  experience  in  the  tele- 
graph business,  conceived  the  idea  of  introducing  the  American 
(Morse)  system  of  telegraph  into  Europe.  Although  aware  that  their 
youth  and  the  prejudices  of  foreign  telegraphers  would  present  serious 
obstacles  to  their  success,  they  boldly  set  out  on  the  expedition,  with 
the  best  wishes  of  their  friend,  Prof.  Morse,  who,  without  personal 
connection  or  pecuniary  interest,  felt  a  warm  interest  in  the  success  of 
the  young  men,  and  furnished  them  with  introductions  to  many  em- 
bassadors  at  the  courts  of  Europe.  Reaching  the  city  of  Hamburg, 
Germany,  they  at  once  gave  public  exhibitions  of  their  system,  and  by 
their  American  energy  broke  down  all  opposition,  and  proved  the 
Morse  telegraph  to  be  more  simple  and  better  than  any  then  being 
used.  A  company  of  merchants  was  organized,  a  line  of  wire  erected 
from  the  city  to  Cuxhaven,  at  the  mouth  of  the  river  Elbe,  and  the 
system  put  into  successful  operation.  Scarcely  had  this  been  done, 

the  2ist  of  February,  and  reached  Lexington  on  the  I2th  of  April,  1814;  but  spent 
nineteen  days  at  various  points  on  his  route.  The  space  that  he  took  over  a  month 
to  travel  can  now  be  spanned  in  forty  hours  or  less  railroad  travel,  and  in  "  less 
than  no  time  "  with  words  by  his  perfected  lines  of  telegraph. 

*  So  well  known  since  in  connection  with  express  and  "  overland  stage  lines." 


288  ALFRED    VAIL. 

when  the  young  gentlemen  received  an  official  invitation  from  the 
Russian  Government  to  visit  the  city  of  St.  Petersburg.  They  exhib- 
ited their  system  several  times  to  the  Emperor  Nicholas,  and  during 
their  visit  received  marked  testimonials  of  his  appreciation  of  Amer- 
ican enterprise  and  science.  As  guests  of  his  Imperial  Majesty,  their 
stay  was  made  exceedingly  pleasant. 

Soon  after  their  return  to  Hamburg,  our  young  Americans  received 
notice  of  the  appointment,  by  the  King  of  Prussia,  of  a  commission, 
composed  of  scientific  gentlemen,  to  examine  at  Berlin  all  the  several 
systems  of  telegraphy  then  in  use,  with  an  official  invitation  to 
present  before  them  the  Morse  system.  A  prize  of  1,000  thalers  and 
a  highly  remunerative  contract  under  the  Government  was  offered  for 
competition.  Again  our  young  Americans,  after  passing  through  the 
most  difficult  scientific  tests,  and  despite  their  ignorance  of  foreign 
languages,  succeeded  in  proving  the  Morse  system  superior  to  all  others 
represented  at  the  exhibition,  and  received  most  flattering  comments 
upon  their  success  and  the  perfectedness  of  the  telegraph  they  pre- 
sented. Before  the  commission  could  render  an  official  decision  to 
their  sovereign,  the  civil  revolution  broke  out,  and  for  a  time  anar- 
chy reigned.  They  remained  long  enough  to  witness  some  of  the 
horrors  which  occurred  while  the  mob  ruled  that  beautiful  city,  and 
returned  to  Hamburg. 

In  the  year  1850,  finding  that  the  disorder  which  ruled  throughout 
Europe  would  render  their  longer  stay  of  little  service,  they  returned 
to  their  home,  bringing  with  them  gratifying  testimonials  and  receiv- 
ing from  Prof.  Morse  warm  thanks  for  the  success  which  had  attended 
the  first  introduction  of  American  telegraphy  into  Europe. 

In  the  year  1852,  while  Superintendent  of  the  New  York  and  Erie 
R.  R.  Telegraph,  Mr.  Chapin  introduced  the  system  of  running  trains 
by  telegraph.  The  road  at  that  time  was  using  one  track,  and  so 
thoroughly  safe  was  his  plan  proven  to  be,  that  it  was  at  once  adopted 
along  the  whole  route,  and  is  still  in  use  upon  that  road,  and  very 
many  if  not  all  the  railroads  in  this  country. 

In  the  year  1854,  Mr.  Chapin  was  enabled  to  carry  into  operation 
the  excellent  system  of  telegraphy  used  by  the  police  department  of 
the  city  of  New  York.  (In  1859  he  introduced  and  perfected  in  that 
same  city  the  system  of  Fire  Alarm  Telegraph,  which  is  acknowl- 
edged to  be  the  most  perfect  in  use  in  the  world.) 

Professor  Morse  was  appointed  United  States  Commissioner  to  the 
Universal  Exposition  at  Paris  in  1867;  and  as  a  result  there  was  sent 
out  from  the  Government  printing  office  at  Washington  a  report, 
made  by  him,  covering  over  150  octavo  pages,  nearly  all  of  which  is 
taken  up  with  statements  concerning  the  Telegraphic  Apparatus  and 
Processes  'in  Telegraphing  used  in  Europe.  \Vhat  is  known  as  his 
system  is  used  there  almost  exclusively,  therefore  nearly  the  whole  of 
the  pamphlet  is  taken  up  with  discussions  respecting  the  Morse- 
Vail  instrument,  and  the  forms  of  it  exhibited  at  'the  Exposition. 


HIS     OLDEST     INSTRUMENT.  289 

We  quote   from  page   13   the   first   paragraph,  published  under  the 
heading,  The  Morse  System  Introduced  in  Europe  : 

"  In  the  spring  of  1838  this  telegraph  was  introduced  to  the  Eu- 
ropean world  through  the  French  Academy  of  Sciences,  uncler  the 
auspices  of  the  distinguished  Arago,  and  in  the  autumn  of  that  year  it 
was  breveted  in  France." 

Evidently  the  time  above  named  is  six  months  too  early,  as  Professor 
Morse's  letters  to  his  brother  and  Mr.  Vail,  which  we  have  given, 
show. 

Before  leaving  for  Washington  to  exhibit  the  telegraph  in  1838, 
Vail  perfected  two  instruments  for  transmitting  and  receiving  mes- 
sages, which  were  used  by  Professor  Morse  and  Mr.  Vail  for  several 
years.  The  one  used  by  Morse,  after  undergoing  several  alterations 
finally  disappeared,  and  is  now  lost.  That  of  Mr.  Vail  was  carefully 
preserved  by  him.  It  was  loaned  by  Mrs.  Vail  for  use  at  the  last 
ovation  to  Professor  Morse  in  New  York,  and  is  still  in  the  possession 
of  the  family  at  Morristown.  With  the  exception  of  size  and  clumsi- 
ness, the  instrument  is  almost  exactly  similar  to  those  in  present  use, 
and  can  compare  in  effectiveness  of  working  with  the  latest  made. 
It  was  recently  attached  to  the  wires  at  Morristown,  after  having 
had  an  interval  of  rest  of  over  twenty-five  years,  and  it  did  its  work 
as  well  as  any.  Its  size  is  sixteen  inches  in  length,  seven  inches  in 
height,  six  inches  wide  ;  it  has  two  magnets  of  three  inches  diameter. 
Its  weight  is  twenty  pounds.  A  capital  photograph  of  the  instrument 
was  taken  and  is  in  possession  of  Mr.  Lundy,  editor  ofthe/ffpttMifOH, 
at  Morristown.  The  publishers  of  this  volume  furnish  a  fine  engrav- 
ing of  this  instrument  on  the  page  with  Mr.  Vail's  portrait.  The 
machine  was  left  by  Mr.  Vail,  carefully  put  away  in  a  cabinet.  In 
removing  it,  several  years  since,  his  family  found  attached  to  it  a  cer- 
tificate, written  upon  soft  printing  paper  with  a  lead  pencil ;  this  was 
folded  up  and  fastened  to  the.  instrument.  The  original  was  preserved, 
and  the  publishers  of  the  present  work  are  happy  in  presenting  to  the 
public  for  the  first  time  an  exact  fac-simile  of  this  exceedingly  inter- 
esting and  important  document,  so  far  as  retained. 

Respecting  the  European  instruments,  referred  to  in  the  pamphlet, 
under  the  head  named  above,  we  extract  the  following : 

"Adopted  in  countries  renowned  for  consummate  skill  in  the 
manufacture  of  philosophical  instruments  and  delicate  instruments  of 
precision,  it  is  natural  to  expect  that  the  telegraphic  instruments  con- 
structed by  the  accomplished  mechanicians  of  Europe,  while  preserv- 
ing the  essential  principles  of  the  original  telegraph,  would  take  many 
forms  and  display  a  great  variety  of  mechanical  adaptations  to  produce 
the  result  most  effectively. 

"It   ought  to  be  here  mentioned,  however,  to  the  credit  of  the 

19 


290  ALFRED     VAIL. 

mechanicians  of  the  United  States,  to  whom  was  intrusted  the  manu- 
facture of  the  first  Morse  telegraphic  instruments  in  use  on  the 
American  lines,  that  most  of  the  instruments,  not  only  in  form,  but 
in  poiat  of  efficiency,  compactness,  and  finish  of  workmanship,  in  ac- 
curacy of  mechanical  adaptation  and  durability,  were  not  inferior  to 
most  of  those  now  manufactured  and  used  in  Europe.  Many  of  the 
modifications  in  form,  and  the  varied  distribution  of  parts  of  the 
mechanism  in  the  American  instruments,  take  precedence  in  time 
of  the  European  instruments.  But  the  beauty  and  accuracy  of 
mechanical  finish  in  the  great  majority  of  the  instruments,  it  is  con- 
ceded, are  for  the  most  part  in  favor  of  the  European  mechanicians. 
Especially  is  this  the  case  in  the  ingenious  instruments  used  for  im- 
printing the  common  or  Roman  letter,  first  attempted  by  Vail  as  early 
as  1837  ;  afterwards  effectively  accomplished  by  House,  but  subse- 
quently the  instruments  for  which  were  so  admirably  perfected  by 
Hughes." 

"  Mr.  Vail  proposed  and  draughted  his  plan  of  a  printing  instru- 
ment, a  description  of  which  he  has  given  in  full,  with  diagrams,  in 
his  work  entitled  the  American  Electro-magnetic  Telegraph,  published 
in  1845.  The  complicated  machinery  necessary  to  produce  the  re- 
sult, which  seemed  more  curious  than  useful,  and  its  slowness  of 
operation,  compared  with  the  Morse-(Vail)  instrument,  were  obstacles 
to  its  practical  application.  It  was  never  practically  tested." 

"  There  is  a  peculiarity  inherent  in  the  nature  of  the  original  Morse- 
(Vail)  code,  which  adapts  it  for  recognition  by  each  of  four  at  least  of 
the  senses.  It  addresses  not  merely  the  sight  by  its  written  character, 
but  the  hearing,  the  taste,  and  the  touch.  It  allows,  therefore,  of 
course,  recognition  by  sound.  This  quality  of  the  Morse-(Vail)  code, 
of  being  recognized  by  more  than  one  of  the  senses,  does  not  belong 
to  ordinary  alphabetic  characters,  and  arises  from  its  novel  construc- 
tion. The  principle  of  the  code  is  this :  it  is  formed  from  broken 
or  unequal  parts  of  a  continuous  line.  It  is  composed  of  shorter  and 
longer  lines,  or,  as  they  are  usually  styled,  dots  and  dashes,  the 
shorter  line  being  a  dot,  and  the  longer  a  dash.  Each  letter  there- 
fore is  a  line,  or  group  of  lines  of  different  lengths,  each  group  being 
a  combination  of  these  elementary  parts,  differing  from  all  the  other 
groups.  For  example,  A  is  represented  by  a  short  and  a  long  line, 

thus, ;  B,  by  a  long  line  and  three  short  ones,  thus, ;  N, 

by  a  long  line  and  a  short  one,  thus, ,  and  so  on.  These  differ- 
ences are  at  once  recognized  by  the  eye  when  written,  but  in  the 
process  of  writing  them  by  the  Morse-(Vail)  apparatus  each  group  or 
letter  is  also  indicated  to  the  ear  by  its  sound.  The  rationale  of  this 
peculiarity  is  this :  in  writing  or  printing  either  the  dot  or  the  dash 
in  these  groups  the  pen  lever  produces  two  sounds,  as  well  in  making 
a  dot  as  in  making  a  dash.  One  of  the  two  sounds  is  caused  by  the 
stroke  of  the  pen-lever  against  the  stop,  which  limits  its  motion  in  one 
direction,  and  the  other  of  the  two  sounds  is  caused  by  the  stroke 


CERTIFIES    TO    HIS    INVENTION.  291 

against  the  stop,  which  limits  its  motion  in  the  other  direction. 
These  sounds  are  the  natural  and  ordinary  accompaniment  of  the  pro- 
cess of  writing  or  printing  the  letters. 

"  It  might  seem,  at  first  blush,  that,  as  each  dot  and  each  d^sh  has 
equally  two  sounds,  the  one  would  be  confounded  with  the  other ; 
but  the  difference  by  which  a  dot  and  a  dash  is  distinguished  the  one 
from  the  other  is,  not  by  the  number  of  the  sounds,  but  by  the  differ- 
ence of  the  interval,  in  the  respective  cases,  between  the  first  and 
second  sound.  In  the  one  case,  that  of  the  dot,  the  two  sounds  which 
indicate  it  are  separated  by  a  short  interval  of  time ;  in  the  other  case, 
that  of  a  dash,  the  two  sounds  have  a  longer  interval  between  them. 
This  difference  of  interval  very  soon  becomes  familiar  to  the  ear,  and 
enables  the  operator  to  hear  as  well  as  to  see  the  transmitted  dis- 
patch. This  acoustic  effect  is,  in  fact,  the  half-way  result  of  a  process 
arrested  before  its  entire  completion ;  completed,  indeed,  to  the  ear, 
but  not,  as  yet,  to  the  eye.  Or  the  whole  process  may  perhaps  be 
better  described  as  producing  two  results,  either  of  which  suffices,  and 
therefore  either  may  be  dispensed  with  at  pleasure,  or  both  used  to- 
gether. This  choice  of  results  is  exemplified  in  the  various  instru- 
ments using  the  Morse-(Vail)  code.  This  sounder,  for  example,  dis- 
penses with  the  writing  apparatus,  and  thus  becomes  a  semaphore ;  on 
the  other  hand,  the  various  inking  instruments  dispense  with  the 
sound,  and  are  wholly  dependent  upon  the  written  record,  while  the 
embossing  instruments  using  the  dry  point  have  the  double  advantage 
of  both  results :  they  have  the  aid  of  the  ear  as  well  as  of  the  eye. 
The  inking  process,  therefore,  it  will  be  perceived,  while  gaining  an 
advantage  in  one  direction,  loses  an  advantage  in  another." 

Here  we  insert  the  text  of  the  original  fac-simile  certificate  as  it 
was  found,  excepting  the  erasures  made  by  Mr.  Vail,  and  the  word 
combination  given  in  italics,  which  was  undoubtedly  the  word  used, 
but  it  was  torn  off  when  first  discovered  by  Mr.  Vail's  family : 

"  This  lever  and  roller  were  invented  by  me  in  the  6th  story  of 
the  New  York  Observer  office,  in  1844,  before  we  put  up  the  telegraph 
line  between  Washington  and  Baltimore,  and  this  combination  has  been 
always  used  in  Morse's  instrument.  I  am  the  sole  and  only  inventor 
of  this  mode  of  telegraph  embossed  writing.  Professor  Morse  gave 
me  no  clue  to  it,  or  did  any  one  else,  and  I  have  not  asserted  publicly 
my  right  as  first  and  sole  inventor,  because  I  wished  to  preserve  the 
peaceful  unity  of  the  invention,  and,  because,  I  could  not,  according 
to  my  contract  with  Professor  Morse,  have  got  a  patent  for  it.* 

(Signed)  "ALFRED  VAIL." 

*  It  is  evident  that  Mr.  Vail  ended  his  first  writing  of  this  certificate  with  the 
words  "  first  and  sole  inventor,"  and  then  signed  his  name.  Afterwards  he  con- 
cluded to  give  his  reasons,  as  is  very  plainly  to  be  seen  from  the  curve  downwards 
of  the  words  because  I  wished,  etc,  occurring  under  his  first  signature.  See  second 
page  forward. 


292  ALFRED     VAIL, 

The  commendable  enterprise  of  the  young  Americans,  Robinson  and 
Chapin,  in  going  to  Europe,  in  1848,  to  introduce  the  American 
system,  although  not  productive  of  large  pecuniary  returns  to  them, 
had  much  to  do  with  popularizing  the  system  there,  and  bringing  to 
Professor  Morse  the  jewels,  money,  and  fame  which  he  gathered  in 
rich  profusion  (and  reluctantly  shared — as  to  money — with  his  asso- 
ciates, owners  of  the  patent)  during  the  ten  to  fifteen  years  following. 
He  was  compelled  by  another  associate  to  share  with  him  in  the  free- 
will offerings  made  by  European  governments ;  and  of  the  amount 
some  five  thousand  dollars  were  paid  to  Mr.  Vail;  but  of  the  other 
valuable  presents  sent,  no  token  came  to  his  hands ;  of  the  rich  and 
costly  jewels  which  on  occasions  bedecked  the  person  of  the  one  who 
was  the  recipient  of  all  the  honors,  no  gem  reached  the  finger  or 
person  of  any  member  of  Mr.  Vail's  family ;  but  had  Mr.  Vail  have 
lived  in  contact  with  his  associate  for  a  century  no  hint  of  this  failure 
would  have  escaped  him.  Can  any  one,  however,  give  a  good  reason 
why  he  should  not  at  least  have  received  the  share  required  by  the 
terms  of  the  original  contract  ?  Mr.  Vail's  youth  and  modesty  at  first 
had  kept  him  from  asserting  his  just  right  to  attach  his  name  to  the 
machine,  made  to  express  his  alphabet,  as  he  should  have  done  at  the 
moment  of  producing  the  marvelous  instrument.  As  time  rolled  on 
the  difficulty  of  compassing  the  point  between  the  two  parties  in 
interest  increased  in  compound  proportion.  Honors  were  heaping 
upon  Professor  Morse,  while  Mr.  Vail's  name,  but  little  mentioned  at 
the  commencement,  was  finally  lost  to  public  view.  The  last  para- 
graph in  the  fac-simile  certificate  (see  opposite  page)  manifests  such  a 
spirit  as  can  not  aid  in  making  due  assertion  of  one's  rights  in  this  self- 
asserting  age. 

"If  it  be  asked  what  telegraphic  system  is  specifically  announced 
as  most  developed  and  extended  throughout  the  world,  the  answer 
would  seem  to  be  definitely  and  summarily  given  in  the  proceedings 
of  the  International  Telegraphic  Convention,  held  in  Paris  in  March, 
1865,  composed  of  the  representatives  of  twenty  of  the  principal 
nations  of  Europe,  assembled  for  the  special  purpose  of  examining  the 
various  projects,  in  order  to  adopt  a  uniform  system,  and  to  regulate 
international  telegraphy  for  their  common  benefit.  They  thus  decree 
in  their  third  article  :  '  L'appareil  Morse  reste  provisoirement  adopte 
pour  le  service  des  fils  internationaux.'  Concise  as  is  this  announce- 
ment, as  the  result  of  their  deliberations,  it  proclaims  that  the  Morse- 
(Vail)  system — an  American  system — is  preferred  for  special  interna- 
tional service  throughout  Europe. 

"  Russia,  Norway  and  Sweden,  Denmark,  Hamburg,  Hanover, 
Prussia,  Holland,  Belgium,  France,  Wurtemberg,  Bavaria,  Saxony, 
Austria,  Spain,  Portugal,  Baden,  Switzerland,  Italy,  Greece,  and  the 
Ottoman  Empire,  by  their  respective  embassadors,  took  part  in  this 
convention,  and  these,  it  will  be  seen,  comprise  all  the  nations  of 
continental  Europe. 


RETURNS     TO      HIS     NATIVE     PLACE.  295 

"  Great  Britain  was  the  only  nation  in  Europe  not  represented  in 
that  convention  ;  but  even  in  Great  Britain  the  Morse- (Vail)  system  is 
the  one  almost  exclusively  used  in  all  her  colonial  possessions,  in  India, 
Australia,  and  Canada,  and  to  an  increasing  extent  also  in  the  United 
Kingdom,  especially  in  connection  with  the  continental  telegraph 
lines." 

Several  references  have  been  made  in  extracts  already  given  in  this 
sketch  to  the  volume  on  the  telegraph  which  Mr.  Vail  published 
during  1845,  tne  year  ^n  which  the  arrangement  with  Mr.  Kendall 
was  consummated.  For  several  years  following,  Mr.  Vail  continued 
to  reside  in  Washington,  where  his  time  and  energies  were  consumed 
in  experiments  and  improvements  for  perfecting  the  details  which 
were  from  time  to  time  embodied  in  building  and  working  lines  of 
telegraph,  as  they  were  constantly  being  put  in  operation — North, 
South,  and  West.  He  became  an  expert  electrician,  and  devoted  him- 
self zealously  to  the  interests  then  in  hand.  A  warm  and  earnest 
friendship  seems  to  have  sprung  up  between  Mr.  Kendall  and  himself, 
and  for  four  years,  until  1849,  tne7  were,  by  their  mutual  interests, 
and  as  residents  at  the  Capitol,  in  frequent  intercourse. 

Mr.  Vail's  thorough  scientific  and  mechanical  knowledge  of  all  that 
pertained  to  the  telegraph,  and  his  deep  interest  in  its  success,  made 
him  a  valuable  counselor  in  the  new  projects  which  frequently  came 
up  for  consideration  during  those  early  years  in  which  Mr.  Kendall 
was  effectively  urging  forward  the  schemes  for  erecting  new  lines, 
then  being  set  on  foot  in  all  directions. 

In  1849  Mr.  Vail  purchased  a  residence  in  Morristown,  and  returning 
to  his  native  place  with  his  family,  he  spent  his  remaining  years  in 
scientific  and  literary  pursuits.  He  left  at  least  one  work  nearly  ready 
for  the  press,  on  which  he  had  spent  years  of  labor.  His  correspond- 
ence was  very  voluminous,  as  evidenced  by  the  immense  accumula- 
tions which  remain  with  his  Manuscripts  and  Library.  He  was 
methodical,  careful,  and  exact  in  all  his  affairs,  and  of  spotless  integ- 
rity. While  not  pushing  and  aggressive  in  his  business,  as  men  of 
less  modesty  are  apt  to  be,  Mr.  Vail  was  not  lacking  in  thrift  or  finan- 
cial talent.  As  early  as  1847  Professor  Morse  plied  him  most 
persuasively  and  urgently  to  sell  to  him  his  interest  in  the  telegraph 
for  $15,000.  Said  he,  "Think  calmly  of  what  such  a  sum  as  fifteen 
thousand  dollars  is;  I  will,"  etc.;  but  Vail  as  steadily  refused.  He 
not  only  foresaw  its  success,  but  he  felt  all  the  interest  that  belongs 
naturally  to  one  when  contemplating  the  future  of  his  offspring. 

We  may  here  fitly  contemplate  for  a  moment  what  transpired  during 
the  autumn  of  1837,  at  Speedwell,  when  the  two  gentlemen,  Morse 
and  Vail,  were  each  in  processes  of  labor,  to  present  in  due  time,  the 
products  of  their  genius.  The  pupil  of  West  and  Allston,  and  Presi- 
dent of  the  "  National  Academy  of  Design,"  accomplished  successfully 
his  labor,  and  the  product  is  not  known  or  recognized  as  his,  beyond 


296  ALFRED      VAIL. 

the  village  where  it  was  "brought  forth.  While  the  conception  and 
product  of  the  skillfully  scientific  mechanician,  who  had,  it  is  true, 
received  his  University  degree,  but  whose  skill  in  mechanics  was 
largely  the  product  of  nature,  by  degrees  slowly,  but  surely,  perfected 
in  a  machine-shop,  has  been  known  as  his,  only  by  his  own  family 
and  a  few  others.  The  work  which  the  artist  did  is  wholly  unknown, 
while  the  work  of  the  scientific  mechanician  which  the  artist  did  not 
do — neither  conceived  or  executed — has  for  over  a  third  of  a  century 
borne  the  name  of  the  artist,  and  made  him  a  fame  not  surpassed  in 
the  annals  of  invention ;  while  we  here  announce  to  the  world  the 
true  work  done  by  the  artist,  and  the  true  claimant,  for  at  least  a 
share  of  the  honors  so  long  unduly  appropriated.  The  original 
Vail  instrument  has  a  tenacity  of  life  quite  beyond  that  which 
usually  appertains  to  similar  creations  of  human  skill ;  it  is  yet  unrivaled. 
In  the  words  of  the  distinguished  associate  and  friend  of  both,  the 
Hon.  Amos  Kendall,  "If  justice  be  done,  the  name  of  Alfred  Vail 
will  forever  stand  associated  with  that  of  Samuel  F.  B.  Morse  in  the 
history  of  the  invention  and  introduction  into  public  use  of  the 
Electro-magnetic  Telegraph."  Such  were  the  terms  used  by  Mr. 
Kendall  at  a  meeting  of  the  directors  of  the  Magnetic  Telegraph 
Company,  held  at  Philadelphia  on  the  i6th  of  February,  1859.  Mr. 
Vail  had  been  a  leading  director  of  the  company,  and  had  then  re- 
cently deceased.  Resolutions  of  grief  were  offered,  and  Mr.  Kendall 
in  seconding  and  warmly  supporting  the  resolutions,  made  use  of  the 
language  we  have  already  quoted,  and  said  further,  that  "  Mr.  Vail 
was  one  of  the  most  honest  and  scrupulously  conscientious  men  with 
whom  it  has  ever  been  my  fortune  to  meet."  He  likewise  said  that 
"  Professor  Morse  had  always  frankly  acknowledged  his  indebtedness 
to  Mr.  Vail;"  but  it  is  altogether  improbable  that  even  Mr.  Kendall 
at  that  time,  or  during  the  following  ten  years  which  he  survived, 
was  apprised  of  the  extent  to  which  Professor  Morse  was  indebted  to 
Mr.  Vail  for  his  fame  as  an  inventor. 

After  Mr.  Vail's  decease  his  rights  were  less  recognized  than  ever  be- 
fore. So  far  as  Professor  Morse's  conduct  could  affect  it,  slowly  but  surely 
the  star  of  his  fame  receded  in  the  dim  night  of  time.  At  length 
when  the  evening  of  Professor  Morse's  long  life  had  come,  the  even- 
ing of  that  bright  day  when  his  fame  had  crystallized  itself,  so  to 
speak,  into  a  rock-based  statue,  conspicuously  located,  where  the 
sun  might  ever  continue  to  shed  his  glorious  rays  upon  the  stalwart 
bronze — on  that  evening,  in  New  York,  when  the  telegraphists  half 
way  round  the  world  were  chanting  the  praises  of  Professor  Morse 
with  their  fingers  on  the  instrument,  which  Vail  invented,  and  made 
to  talk  on  a  lightning-line-of-light,  over  mountains,  hills,  and  valleys, 
and  possibly  through  deep  seas,  from  China  to  America — on  that 
evening,  when  in  the  full-orbed  splendor  of  his  fame — at  that  hour, 
when  many  of  those  who  were  doing  Professor  Morse  honor  were 
basking  in  the  rays  of  the  orb  of  day,  then  rising  to  the  zenith  of 


HIS     REPUTATION,      AND     PROF.     MORSE.  297 

their  heavens — what  was  it  that  Professor  Morse  had  to  say  of  his 
old  associate?  "Alfred  Vail,  of  Morristown,  New  Jersey,  with  his 
father  and  brother,  came  to  the  help  of  the  unclothed  infant,  and  with 
their  funds,  and  mechanical  skill,  put  it  into  a  condition  creditably  to 
appear  before  the  Congress  of  the  nation.  To  these  New  Jersey 
friends  is  due  the  first  important  aid  in  the  progress  of  the  invention."* 

These  are  the  quiet,  subdued  terms  in  which  Professor  Morse  was 
content  to  hand  his  co-inventor  and  early  friends  down  to  posterity. 
He  makes  no  allusion  to  Alfred  Vail  which  would  lead  any  one  to 
suspect  that  he  was  any  thing  more  than  a  skillful  mechanic ;  that 
Vail  had  ever  done  any  thing  beyond  putting  into  form  the  concep- 
tions of  Morse's  brain.  To  say  the  least,  it  was  an  unhappy  holding 
off  from  a  magnanimous  and  generous  course.  Each  reader  will  have 
his  own  opinion  of  its  justice  ;  we  suggest  that  it  may  not  be  improper 
to  consider,  in  connection  with  this,  the  buzz  of  admiration  raised 
in  the  French  Academy  of  Sciences  in  the  memorable  month  of  Sep- 
tember, 1838,  as  stated  in  the  letter  from  Professor  Morse  of  October 
iith,  1838,  written  to  Mr.  Vail  from  Paris,  and  also  the  hint  thrown 
out  in  the  first  letter  of  Morse,  printed  in  this  sketch. 

Professor  Morse  did  not  survive  that  ovation  many  months,  but  he 
lived  long  enough  to  see  and  feel  most  keenly  that  he  had  not  been 
generous;  that  he  had  made  a  great  mistake,  and  had  been  led  into 
injustice,  for  which  he  should  in  some  way  make  reparation.  The 
facts  we  have  given  had,  in  some  quarters,  found  expression,  in  a 
semi-private  way — they  had  come  to  the  sight  and  hearing  of  Professor 
Morse ;  so  that  at  last  he  sent  for  a  near  friend  of  Mr.  Vail,  who 
"found  him  in  bed,  'sick  from  anxiety,'  as  he  said,  'occasioned  by 
these  attacks.'  In  a  conversation  of  two  hours  he  several  times  said: 
*  The  one  thing  I  want  to  do  now  is  justice  to  Mr.  Vail.' '  The  wit- 
ness goes  on  to  say,  "Just  four  weeks  from  that  day  he  passed  from 
earth,  and  I  have  never  heard  that  he  left  one  word  for  it ;  indeed  I 
did  not  expect  that  he  would."  Here  we  leave  Professor  Morse  and 
his  relations  to  Alfred  Vail.  Our  only  purpose  has  been  simply  to 
bring  the  facts  concerning  this  wonderful  invention  to  the  light  of 
day. 

Alfred  Vail  was  born  at  Speedwell,  Morris  County,  New  Jersey, 
September  25th,  1807.  He  deceased  on  the  i8th  of  January,  1859, 
in  his  fifty-second  year,  at  his  residence  in  South  street,  Morristown, 
within  two  miles  of  the  spot  where  he  first  saw  the  light.  There,  in 

*  These,  and  the  remarks  made  at  the  Delmonico  banquet,  inserted  in  the  first 
paragraph  on  the  eleventh  page  of  the  sketch  of  Morse,  are  of  similar  import.  There, 
however,  no  reference  is  made  to  mechanical  skill ;  the  credit  then  given  was 
simply  for  pecuniary  aid — "  furnishing  the  means  to  give  the  child — 'a  feeble  child, 
of  stammering  speech ' — a  decent  dress."  It  was  natural  that  its  parent  should 
always  speak  of  it  as  a  child ;  for  it  died  in  infancy,  and  was  buried  at  Speedwell. 
It  never  breathed  after  Vail's  plump  boy  struck  the  bantling. 


298  ALFRED     VAIL. 

retirement,  he  had  interested  himself  for  ten  years  in  such  studies  and 
literary  pursuits  as  were  congenial  to  his  tastes,  and  in  manifesting,  in 
his  quiet  way,  great  purity  of  life  and  earnestness  of  Christian  character. 
He  was  kind,  genial,  generous,  a  devoted  husband,  a  warm  friend. 
He  was  twice  married — in  1839  to  Miss  Jane  Cumings,  of  New  York 
city;  in  1855  to  Miss  Amanda  Eno,  of  Connecticut.  He  left  three 
sons,  Stephen,  Cumings,  and  George. 

In  person  Mr.  Vail  was  about  medium  height  and  of  slight  frame. 
His  complexion  was  fair ;  his  eyes  large,  lustrous,  and  usually  soft, 
but  often  fired  with  deep  earnestness.  There  was  nothing  of  the 
visionary  in  him.  He  had  a  calm,  steady  realization  of  what  effects 
his  invention  would  produce,  and  a  firm  faith  in  its  universal  applica- 
tion within  its  sphere  of  labor.  What  man,  in  so  compact  a  form, 
ever  worked  out  grander  and  more  admirable  results  toward  the 
hastening  of  the  day  when  "  many  shall  run  to  and  fro,  and  knowledge 
shall  be  increased ' '  and  registered !  An  incident  will  serve  to  show 
the  wonderful  perfection  of  the  instrument  and  the  keenness  of  percep- 
tion attained  by  skillful  telegraphists.  A  former  expert  operator  at 
Hartford,  Connecticut,  recently  escaped  from  the  Middletown  Insane 
Asylum,  where  he  had  been  confined,  and  successfully  eluded  pursuit 
for  a  fortnight.  A  Mr.  Hempstead,  who  had  known  the  insane  man, 
Sherman,  intimately  as  a  fellow-operator ;  while  at  work  in  the  office, 
at  Hartford,  at  night,  suddenly  recognized  among  the  clatter  of  a  score 
of  messages  passing  over  the  wire,  a  sound  which  he  at  once  declared 
was  the  touch  of  the  missing  Sherman.  It  proved  to  be  a  message  from 
Wallingford,  and  an  investigation  showed  that  Mr.  Hempstead  was 
right  in  ascribing  it  to  the  insane  man,  who  was  found  there,  having 
dropped  into  the  office  in  the  former  place,  as  was  believed,  and  taken 
a  hand  at  his  old  business. 


PART    II. 


DELVERS 


SCIENCE  AND  LITERATURE. 


CUVIER. 


GEORGE  CUVIER,  the  most  eminent  Naturalist  in  modern  times, 
was  born  August  23, 1 769.  The  place  of  his  nativity  was  the  little 
town  of  Montbelaird,  in  Switzerland,  formerly  the  capitol  of  the  district 
so-called,  and  which,  up  to  1796,  formed  part  of  the  German  do- 
main of  the  Duke  of  Wurtemburg.  His  father  was  a  distinguished 
officer  in  a  Swiss  corps  in  the  pay  of  France,  and  who,  after  forty- 
years'  service,  retired  to  his  native  town  with  a  small  pension  and  a 
military  title  of  honor.  He  there  espoused  a  young  lady  of  good 
family,  to  whose  admirable  management  and  superintendence  the 
future  eminence  of  George  Cuvier  (who  was  the  second  son)  is 
mainly  to  be  attributed.  He  was  of  an  extremely  delicate  constitu- 
tion, and,  with  a  view  of  strengthening  his  body  and  enlightening  his 
mind,  she  directed  his  attention  to  the  beauties  of  outward  nature. 

To  the  latest  day  of  his  life,  Cuvier  cherished  with  the  most  lively 
fondness,  every  reminiscence  of  this  excellent  woman;  and,  in  his  later 
years,  when  immersed  in  the  toils  of  legislation  and  science,  ex- 
pressed the  warmest  gratitude  to  any  one  who  brought  him  a  bouquet 
of  flowers,  which  his  mother  had  more  especially  loved.  Under  her 
instructions  alone,  Cuvier  was  taught  to  read  with  facility  when  only 
four  years  of  age.  She  also  instructed  him  in  sketching,  while 
she  fostered  in  every  way  the  desire  for  solid  information  which  he 
so  early  manifested,  by  procuring  a  supply  of  historical  and  scientific 
works  calculated  to  expand  his  youthful  mind.  When  .of  age  to 
learn  Latin,  she  not  only  attended  him  to  and  from  school  personally, 
but  even  undertook  the  superintendence  of  his  daily  lessons,  and  had 
the  satisfaction  of  finding  that  he  maintained  a  superiority  over  all 
his  school-fellows.  When  ten  years  old,  Cuvier  was  removed  to  a 
higher  school  called  the  Gymnase,  where  his  progress  attracted  par- 
ticular attention.  He  was  singularly  diligent  and  thoughtful,  with  an 
uncommon  memory.  But  the  author  who  attracted  all  his  regard  in 
his  leisure  moments  was  Button,  the  whole  of  whose  plates,  even  at 
this  early  age,  he  faithfully  copied  and  colored ;  manifesting  at  the 

(301) 


302  CUVIER. 

same  time  the  most  extraordinary  aptitude  for  mastering  the  driest 
details  of  nomenclature.  His  acquisition  of  the  dead  languages, 
Mathematics,  and  Geography  was  not  less  remarkable,  and  he  pur- 
sued all  these  studies  with  an  ardor  that  seemed  incompatible  with 
the  indulgence  of  childish  sports. 

Cuvier  was  intended  for  the  church,  and,  from  the  poverty  of  his 
parents,  was  a  candidate  for  admission  to  the  free  school  of  Tubingen. 
In  this  competition,  he  composed  and  delivered  a  poetical  oration  on 
the  prosperity  of  the  principality,  which  he  is  said  to  have  recited  with 
astonishing  effect ;  but,  from  the  base  treachery  of  his  master  in  the 
Gymnase,  he  lost  the  just  reward  of  his  able  composition.  His 
merits,  however,  had  now  become  so  conspicuous  as  to  attract  the 
notice  of  Duke  Charles,  Uncle  of  the  King  of  Wurtemburg,  who, 
upon  an  interview  with  him,  became  so  much  interested  in  his  wel- 
fare, that  he  sent  him,  upon  his  own  charges,  to  the  Academic  Caro- 
line, at  Stuttgart — a  seminary  founded  by  the  Duke  himself,  and  in 
which  he  took  the  deepest  interest. 

This  was  in  1784,  when  Cuvier  entered  his  fifteenth  year.  His 
varied  talents,  or  rather  his  unbounded  capacity,  had  now  the  means 
of  expanding  itself  upon  the  wide  range  of  studies  now  open  to  him. 
•  The  pupils  of  this  institution  were  instructed  in  almost  every  branch 
of  knowledge,  but  more  particularly  those  connected  with  civil  polity ; 
and  many  of  them  became  in  after-years  the  ministers  not  only  of 
the  various  courts  of  Germany,  but  even  of  Russia,  and  other  Euro- 
pean states.  Cuvier  was  inferior  to  none  in  the  ready  acquisition  of 
every  subject  of  study ;  but  amidst  all  his  occupations,  that  of  Natu- 
ral History  was  pursued  with  an  ardor  that  increased  in  proportion 
to  the  means  of  self-instruction  which  he  possessed.  He  read  Lin- 
naeus, Reinhart,  and  all  the  best  authors  ;  inspected  all  the  Museums 
within  his  reach ;  collected  specimens,  and  drew  and  colored  Insects, 
Birds,  and  Plants,  in  his  hours  of  recreation.  Even  then  he  began  to 
perceive  the  great  advantages  which  the  study  of  Entomology  (anat- 
omy of  insects)  would  lend  to  his  future  investigations,  while  its 
prosecution  led  to  the  acquisition  of  habits  of  minute  observation. 

Cuvier  had  only  been  four  years  at  Stuttgart,  (during  which  time, 
however,  he  had  won  many  marks  of  distinction;  amongst  others, 
the  order  of  Chevalerie,  which  was  only  granted  to  five  or  six  of  the 
pupils  out  of  four  hundred),  when  the  disturbed  condition  of  France 
and  Germany,  occasioning  the  departure  of  his  patron  and  the  dis- 
continuance of  his  father's  pension,  obliged  him  to  leave  that  Semi- 
nary ;  and  he  took  what  appeared  to  his  companions  to  be  the  most 
desperate  resolution,  of  becoming  tutor  in  a  private  family, — that  of 
Count  d'  Hericy,  a  Protestant  nobleman, — with  whom  he  removed  to 
Caen,  in  Normandy,  in  July,  1788. 

Change  of  residence,  society,  and  circumstances,  however,  could 
not  for  a  moment  check  the  persevering  assiduity  of  Cuvier,  and  the 
transition  from  an  inland  to  a  maritime  situation,  only  contributed 


TESSIERS     OPINION     OF     HIM. 


303 


to  direct  his  active  mind  into  new  channels  of  study  and  investiga- 
tion. Here  he  began  to  study  the  anatomy  of  Fishes;  compare  fossil 
with  recent  species,  and,  from  their  dissection,  was  conducted  to  the 
development  of  his  great  views  on  the  whole  of  the  Animal  Kingdom, 
by  which  he  subsequently  read  the  physical  history  of  creation,  through 
all  its  various  phases,  as  in  a  book.  Whilst  engaged  in  making  records 
of  observations  simply  for  his  own  guidance  and  use,  he  was  unwit- 
tingly rectifying  the  mistakes  and  over-sights  of  all  preceding  and 
contemporary  Naturalists. 

Nearly  six  years  passed  over  Cuvier's  head  thus  usefully  and  tran- 
quilly employed,  while  France  was  undergoing  the  dreadful  ordeal  of 
the  revolution.  But  its  impulse  at  last  reached  his  retreat.  A  society 
or  union,  like  those  organized  by  the  populace  throughout  every  other 
part  of  the  Empire,  and  which  armed  the  inhabitants  against  them- 
selves, was  about  to  be  established  at  the  neighboring  town  of  Fe- 
camp, when  Cuvier,  perceiving  the  impending  danger,  induced  his 
employer  and  the  neighboring  land-holders  to  anticipate  its  forma- 
tion by  constituting  the  Society  themselves.  Of  this  body,  Cuvier 
was  appointed  Secretary,  and  the  members,  instead  of  discussing  san- 
guinary affairs  at  their  meetings,  devoted  their  attention  solely  to  the 
consideration  of  Agriculture.  At  one  of  these,  a  speech  was  deliv- 
ered by  a  venerable-looking  individual,  who  resided  in  the  neighbor- 
hood under  the  character  of  a  surgeon.  Cuvier,  however,  although 
he  had  never  seen  him  before,  quickly  recognized  in  the  speaker  the 
author  of  certain  valuable  articles  on  Agriculture  in  the  Encyclopedic 
Methodique,  and,  approaching  him  after  the  sitting  was  finished,  he 
addressed  him  as  the  Abbe  Tessier.  The  old  man  was  at  first  much 
alarmed,  for  he  had  fled  from  Paris,  and  concealed  himself  under  his 
present  disguise,  to  avoid  the  common  doom  of  all  who  then  bore 
the  hated  name  of  Abbe;  but  Cuvier  soon  quieted  his  fears,  arid 
they  became  thenceforward  the  most  intimate  friends. 

Tessier  perceived  at  once  the  extraordinary  talents  and  acquire- 
ments of  his  new  acquaintance.  "At  the  sight  of  this  young  man," 
he  wrote  to  his  friend  Jussieu,  "I  felt  the  same  delight  as  the  phi- 
losopher who,  when  cast  upon  an  unknown  shore,  there  saw  traces  of 
geometrical  figures.  M.  Cuvier  is  a  violet  which  was  concealed  among 
common  herbs.  He  has  great  acquirements ;  he  draws  plates  for 
your  work,  and  I  have  urged  him  to  give  Botanical  lectures  this 
summer.  He  has  consented  to  do  so,  and  I  congratulate  the  students 
on  the  fact,  for  he  demonstrates  with  great  method  and  clearness. 
I  doubt  if  there  could  be  found  a  better  Comparative  Anatomist;  he 
is  indeed  a  pearl  worth  picking  up.  I  contributed  to  draw  M.  De- 
lambre  from  his  retreat :  do  you  now  help  me  to  draw  M.  Cuvier 
from  his,  for  he  is  made  for  science  and  the  world."  The  result  of 
these  warm  recommendations  was  the  transmission  of  some  of  Cuvier's 
papers  to  Paris,  where  their  great  value  was  properly  appreciated;  and 
in  a  few  months  afterwards  he  was  appointed  colleague  of  M.  Mert- 


304  C  U  V  I  E  R . 

reid  in  the  newly  created  chair  of  Comparative  Anatomy  at  Paris, 
whither  he  removed,  being  then  only  twenty-six  years  of  age. 

Cuvier's  first  thoughts,  on  finding  himself  placed  in  a  respectable 
and  permanent  situation,  were  for  his  distressed  relatives.  His  mother 
was  then  dead,  but  he  invited  his  father  and  brother  to  come  and  live 
with  him ;  and  after  seeing  them  comfortably  settled,  he  applied 
himself  to  his  favorite  studies  with  a  zeal  that  nothing  could  repress. 
He  was  every-where  heard  with  delight  and  conviction,  for  he  had 
already,  before  coming  to  Paris,  adopted  those  extensive  views,  and 
arrived  at  those  profound  and  sagacious  conclusions,  which  guided  his 
investigations  into  physical  nature,  and  shook  to  their  base  all  the 
then  existing  systems  of  Linnaeus  and  other  Naturalists.  Besides  his 
public  lectures  and  private  pursuits,  he  published,  during  the  first  year 
of  his  residence  at  Paris,  more  than  half  a  dozen  treatises  on  various 
subjects  of  Natural  history,  in  which  the  most  expanded  views  were 
combined  with  evidence  of  the  minutest  accuracy  arid  arrangement. 
He  especially  impressed  on  his  pupils  the  importance  of  Entomolog- 
ical study.  A  young  medical  student  came  to  him  upon  a  certain 
occasion,  full  of  a  discovery  he  supposed  himself  to  have  made  in 
dissecting  a  human  body.  Cuvier  immediately  asked  him  if  he  was 
an  Entomologist,  to  which  the  other  replied  in  the  negative.  "Go 
then  and  anatomize  an  insect,"  said  Cuvier,1  "and  then  consider  the 
discovery  you  have  made."  The  young  man  did  so,  and  returned 
to  Cuvier  to  confess  his  error.  "Now,"  said  Cuvier,  "you  see  the 
value  of  my  touch-stone."  His  discovery  of  the  red  blood  of  the 
leech,  and  the  other  animals  which  he  grouped  in  the  class  Annetides, 
was  made  in  1796;  and  he  read  his  celebrated  memoir  on  the  Nu- 
trition of  Insects,  in  which  he  showed  the  manner  in  which  respira- 
tion was  carried  on  by  tracheae,  and  how  the  nutritious  fluid  diffused 
itself  over  the  whole  internal  surface  of  the  body,  so  as  to  be  every- 
where absorbed. 

Cuvier's  removal  to  Paris  was  fortunately  the  period  when  the  Arts 
and  Sciences  and  social  order  were  beginning  to  be  re-established 
after  the  convulsions  of  the  Revolution.  The  National  Institute,  one 
of  the  noblest  of  the  societies  of  Europe,  was  founded  in  1796:  Cu- 
vier was  one  of  its  original  members,  and  for  more  than  thirty  years 
maintained  the  most  distinguished  rank  amongst  them.  His  appoint- 
ment in  the  Jardin  des  Plantes  had  now  fixed  him  in  the  midst  of 
those  objects  to  which  his  life  would  have  been  devoted  by  inclina- 
tion; and  from  the  day  of  his  appointment  to  the  day  of  his  death, 
his  labors  were  devoted  to  forming  and  completing  the  collections  of 
which  it  can  now  boast,  and  which,  in  every  respect,  may  almost  be 
pronounced  unrivaled.  The  intensity  of  his  devotion  to  this  occupa- 
tion was  strongly  manifested  upon  a  remarkable  occasion  in  the  year 
1798.  Bonaparte  was  then  preparing  for  his  expedition  to  Egypt, 
and  deputed  M.  Berthollet  to  select  some  scientific  men  to  accom- 
pany the  armament.  Berthollet  particularly  recommended  Cuvier, 


HIS    MEMOIR    ON    FOSSIL    BONES.  305 

Jeho,  accordingly  received  a  notification  of  his  appointment ;  but,  un- 
dazzled  by  the  flattering  nature  of  the  proposal,  and  the  prospects  it 
held  out  of  advancing  his  private  interests,  by  bringing  him  into 
frequent  and  personal  communication  with  Napoleon,  he  had  the 
firmness  to  decline  the  honor,  saying  that  he  was  conscious  that  he 
could  much  more  advance  the  science  of  Natural  History  by  the 
steady  prosecution  of  it  at  the  Jardin  des  Plantes  than  by  any  casual 
study  of  it  elsewhere.  And  well  did  he  prove  the  sincerity  of  his 
motives.  Soon  afterwards  he  published  his  Tableau  Elementaire, 
consisting  of'  710  octavo  pages,  which  was  only  a  precursor  to  his 
great  work,  Regne  Animal,  or  the  Animal  Kingdom,  in  which  he 
adopted  Daubenton's  two  grand  divisions  of  vertibrate  and  inverti- 
brate  animals ;  dividing  each  into  four  great  classes,  and  subdividing 
them  into  orders,  genera,  and  species. 

Cuvier  also  produced  at  the  same  time  his  first  "  Memoir  on  Fos- 
sil Bones,"  being  an  essay  on  the  fossil  bones  of  the  larger  quad- 
rupeds, particularly  those  of  the  Elephant,  the  Mastodon,  the  Hip- 
popotamus, the  Rhinoceros,  etc.  A  view  of  the  specimens  he  collected, 
first  opened  to  the  gaze  of  foreigners  after  the  peace  of  1814,  could 
alone  enable  any  one  to  form  a  proper  estimate  of  the  labors  of 
Cuvier.  These  collections,  when  inspected,  broke  up  the  slumber 
of  many  old  institutions,  caused  renewed  investigation  into  neglected 
specimens  of  other  countries,  and  spread  an  active  love  for  the  pur- 
suit of  Natural  History  through  all  ranks  of  the  people.  And  be  it 
observed,  that,  when  Cuvier  first  began  this  anatomical  collection, 
his  materials  consisted  of  a  few  skeletons  tied  together  like  so  many 
fagots,  and  put  away  in  the  lumber-room  of  the  College. 

Circumstances  by  degrees  contributed  to  the  success  of  Cuvier's 
labors.  Wherever  French  Armies  marched,  it  was  their  pride  to 
collect  whatever  might  enrich  the  increasing  collections  at  Paris; 
and  under  the  directions  of  Cuvier,  the  numerous  contributions  thus 
received  were  arranged  according  to  the  system  which  his  eloquent 
lectures  explained.  By  labors  which  knew  little  intermission,  and 
with  the  help  of  these  daily  increasing  stores,  he  was  enabled  to  lay 
the  foundations  of  Comparative  Anatomy,  to  make  the  discovery  of 
ancient  Zoology,  and  to  introduce  a  reform  throughout  the  whole 
series  of  the  Animal  Kingdom.  The  death  of  M.  Daubenton,  in 
1799,  opened  the  way  for  the  succession  of  Cuvier  as  professor  at 
the  College  of  France;  and  thus  he  discharged  the  double  duty  of 
teaching  Natural  Philosophy  at  the  latter  institution,  and  lecturing  on 
Comparative  Anatomy  at  the  Jardin  des  Plantes.  It  is  painful  to 
state  that  his  pecuniary  remuneration  for  this  great  labor  was  neither 
commensurate  in  amount  nor  regular  in  its  payment. 

In  1800,  Cuvier  commenced  his  celebrated  "Lectures  on  Com- 
parative Anatomy,"  which  were  completed  in  five  years.  They  were 
delivered  from  notes,  and  with  a  persuasive  eloquence  perfectly  un- 
rivaled. His  skill  in  delineating  forms  was  so  great,  and  the  rapidity 
20 


306  CUVIER. 

and  exactness  with  which  he  produced  them  so  extraordinary,  that 
it  seemed  to  his  pupils  as  if  he  rather  created  living  objects  than 
inanimate  representations.  He  did  not  consider  the  whole  organic 
structure  of  each  animal  separately,  but  examined  an  individual 
organ  through  the  whole  series  of  animals  in  succession.  It  was  by 
this  method  that  he  was  ultimately  led  to  the  revealment  of  an  order 
of  facts  illustrative  of  the  theory  of  the  Earth.  It  was  by  a  com- 
bination of  Mineralogical  observations  and  the  sciences  relating  to 
organic  structures,  that  the  successive  eras  of  the  earth  were  made 
apparent.  As  it  would,  however,  only  incumber  the  present  sketch 
to  notice  the  extent  of  his  geological  discoveries,  we  shall  leave 
these. 

To  his  researches  into  Fossil  remains,  Cuvier  ever  attached  the 
utmost  importance.  His  writings  on  these  and  other  subjects  are 
indeed  so  numerous,  that  it  is  impossible  for  us  even  to  attempt  a 
list  of  them.  His  labors  increased  with  his  years  in  magnitude  and 
diversity,  but  only  to  show  the  extent  of  his  capacity.  After  Bona- 
parte's return  from  Egypt,  and  being  declared  First  Consul,  Cuvier 
was  elected  Secretary  to  the  class  of  Physical  and  Mathematical 
Sciences  of  which  Bonaparte  was  President.  The  latter  soon  per- 
ceived the  value  and  variety  of  Cuvier' s  talents,  and  selected  him  as 
one  of  the  six  general  inspectors  appointed  in  1802,  for  the  purpose 
of  establishing  a  lyceum  school  in  each  of  thirty  cities  of  France. 
While  absent  on  this  duty,  Napolean  made  the  secretaryship  of  the 
class  of  Physical  and  Mathematical  Sciences  perpetual,  with  a  salary 
of  6000  francs. 

In  1803  Cuvier  married  Madame  Duvancel,  the  widow  of  a  fermier- 
general  who  was  guillotined  in  1794.  She  brought  four  young  chil- 
dren home  with  her.  Madame  Cuvier  appears  to  have  been  an 
admirable  woman,  and  to  have  proved  an  invaluable  blessing  to  her 
husband.  She  bore  him  four  children,  all  of  whom  as  well  as  his 
step-children,  were  successively  taken  from  him,  excepting  one  of 
the  latter.  In  1808  Cuvier  was  appointed  one  of  the  Councilors  for 
life,  of  the  New  Imperial  University,  and  Bonaparte  (now  Emperor) 
about  the  same  time  employed  him  to  write  a  history  of  the  progress 
of  the  human  mind  from  the  year  1789.  Of  this  work  to  which 
Cuvier  applied  himself  with  his  usual  ardor,  Baron  Pasquier  says : 
"We  were  present  when  it  was  read  to  the  Emperor  in  the  Council 
of  State,  and  such  scenes  are  never  effaced  from  the  memory.  Napo- 
leon had  asked  merely  a  report,  and  under  the  unassuming  title,  the 
skillful  reporter  had  raised  a  monument  which  stands  like  a  Pharos 
between  two  ages,  showing  at  once  the  road  that  had  been  traversed 
and  that  which  still  ought  to  be  pursued." 

His  situation  as  University  Councilor  brought  him  into  the  Em- 
peror's presence  to  discuss  affairs  of  administratipn.  During  the  years 
1809  and  1810  he  was  appointed  to  organize  the  Academies  of  the 
Italian  States.  In  1811  he  was  employed  to  form  Academies  in  Holland 


ATTACKED     BY     PARALYSIS.  307 

and  the  Hanseatic  towns.  Upon  these  duties  he  entered  with  all  the 
enthusiasm  of  his  benevolent  mind,  and  no  employment  could  have 
been  more  delightful.  Napoleon  was  so  much  pleased  with  the  man- 
ner in  which  he  discharged  his  task,  that  he  conferred  on  him  the 
title  of  Chevalier,  and  also  named  him  in  1813,  maitre  des  requetes  in 
the  Council  of  State.  During  these  various  tours,  Cuvier  prosecuted 
his  study  of  Natural  History  unremittingly. 

The  extraordinary  talents  of  Cuvier,  blended  as  they  were  with  so 
much  dignity  of  character  and  so  much  experience,  were  indispensable 
to  France  under  all  the  successive  changes  of  government  which 
happened  during  his  lifetime.  The  Consulate,  the  Imperial  Govern- 
ment, the  Restoration,  the  Monarchy  of  July,  did  but  anew  direct 
public  attention  to  the  civil  services  of  a  man  whose  attainments  and 
sagacity  were  for  all  time. 

He  was  favored,  admired,  esteemed,  of  all  parties,  and  yet  inde- 
pendent. Undistracted  by  all  the  changes  that  befell  his  country,  he 
was  ever  occupied  with  her  best  interests,  and  endeavoring  to  diffuse 
that  mental  and  moral  preparation,  without  which  he  well  knew  the  po- 
litical rights  she  so  urgently  sought  would  prove  the  reverse  of  blessings. 

After  the  restoration,  Louis  XVIII.  bestowed  on  him  the  dignity  of 
Councilor  of  State,  and  he  was  thus  called  on  to  take  a  considerable 
share  in  the  internal  administration  of  his  country^  as  President  of 
the  Committee  of  the  Interior,  an  office  which  involved  him  in  end- 
less details  of  business.  In  1818  he  visited  England  for  six  weeks, 
and  during  his  absence  from  Paris  had  the  distinguished  honor  of 
being  created  one  of  the  forty  of  the  Academic  Francaise.  In  1819 
he  was  named  Grand-Master  of  the  University,  and  in  the  same  year 
was  created  a  Baron.  In  1826  Charles  X.  bestowed  on  him  the  dec- 
oration of  grand  officer  of  the  Legion  of  Honor,  and  his  old 
sovereign,  the  King  of  Wurtemburg,  about  the  same  time  made  him 
commander  of  the  order  of  the  Crown.  During  the  same  year  he 
lost  the  favor  of  the  Court,  by  steadily  refusing  the  appointment  of 
Censor  of  the  Press ;  but  he  incurred  a  much  heavier  dispensation  in 
the  loss  of  his  only  remaining  child,  Clemantine,  a  beautiful  young 
woman,  on  the  eve  of  marriage. 

In  1830  he  again  visited  England  along  with  his  step-daughter, 
Mademoiselle  Duvancel,  and  they  happened  to  be  in  London  during 
the  Revolution  of  the  Barricades.  On  his  return  to  Paris,  Cuvier 
was  most  graciously  received  Ijy  Louis  Philippe,  by  whom  he  was,  in 
1832,  created  a  Peer  of  France.  But  he  lived  not  long  to  enjoy  his 
dignity.  On  the  gth  of  May  he  was  attacked  by  partial  paralysis  in 
his  arms,  and  aware  in  what  it  was  to  terminate,  made  his  will,  and 
arranged  some  important  matters  with  the  most  perfect  calmness.  On 
the  nth  his  legs  were  paralyzed,  but  so  powerful  was  the  love  of 
science  within  him,  that  he  sought  to  illustrate  a  paper  which  he  had 
previously  read  in  the  Institute  by  reference  to  his  own  case,  saying, 
"It  is  the  nerves  of  the  will  that  are  affected,"  alluding  to  the  dis- 


308  CUVIER. 

tinction  between  the  nerves  of  the  will,  and  those  of  sensibility,  and 
the  discoveries  of  Sir  Charles  Bell  and  Scarpa.  To  M.  Pasquier,  who 
saw  him  on  the  izth,  he  remarked :  "I  had  great  things  still  to  do. 
All  was  ready  in  my  hand.  After  thirty  years  of  labor  and  research, 
there  remained  but  to  write,  and  now  the  hands  fail  to  carry  with 
them  the  head."  On  the  i3th,  after  vainly  trying  to  swallow  a 
mouthful  of  lemonade,  he  gave  the  draught  to  his  step-daughter  to 
drink,  saying  it  was  delightful  to  see  those  he  loved  still  able  to 
swallow.  After  which  affectionate  remark  he  calmly  expired. — May 
i3th,  1832. 

Cuvier  was  an  uncommonly  fine-looking  man,  both  in  person  and 
features,  his  countenance  being  indicative  of  that  talent  and  in- 
telligence by  which  he  was  distinguished.  His  manner  was  noble  and 
dignified ;  he  was  kind  and  conciliatory  to  all ;  and  his  charity  and 
benevolence  were  unbounded.  His  application  was  prodigious.  He 
was  never  without  occupation,  and  his  only  relaxation  was  in  the 
change  of  his  objects  of  business  or  study.  Amid  his  multifarious 
occupations  out  of  his  house,  if  he  had  only  a  quarter  of  an  hour  to 
spare  before  dinner  on  his  return,  he  availed  himself  of  it  to  resume 
some  composition,  interrupted  since  the  night  before,  on  some  scien- 
tific subject.  During  the  drives  through  the  city,  he  read  and  even 
wrote  in  his  carriage,  having  a  desk  fitted  up  in  it  for  that  purpose. 
He  dined  between  six  and  seven,  after  which,  if  he  did  not  go  out,  he 
immediately  retired  to  his  study,  where  he  continued  till  ten  or 
eleven.  His  extreme  facility  for  study,  and  of  directing  all  the 
powers  of  his  mind  to  diverse  occupations  of  study,  from  one  quarter 
of  an  hour  to  another,  was  one  of  the  most  extraordinary  qualities  of 
his  mind. 

We  conclude  our  notice  of  the  great  man  by  observing,  that  the 
habit  he  had  acquired  of  never  being  idle,  of  being  undisturbed  by 
interruptions,  and  of  returning  to  unfinished  labors  as  if  no  such  in- 
terruptions had  occurred,  was  shown  in  this  instance  to  be  so  valuable, 
that,  if  it  is  to  be  acquired  by  those  who  do  not  naturally  possess  it, 
it  merits  the  strongest  efforts  of  the  mind  for  its  attainment. 


HUGH  MILLER, 


THE 


STONE-MASON  OF  CROMARTY. 


"  Scientific  men  recognized  in  him  one  who  could  cope  with  them 

in  their  own  department,  who  knew  the  facts  as  well  as  they,  and  could  reason 

them  out  with  greater  power.     Literary  men  acknowledged  in  him  a  brother  who  could 

mold  a  sentence  or  turn  a  period  with  the  best  of  them.     The  ablest  and 

boldest  man  in  the  country  would  have  felt  his  knees  shaking 

at  the  thought  of  engaging  in  a  controversy  with 

the  stone-mason." — Dr.  McCosk. 


Where    Hugh    Miller    was    Born. 


The    Suitors    of   Cromarty,    from    Uncle    Sandy's    Garden. 


HUGH  MILLER; 


BIRTHPLACE,   PARENTAGE,   AND   EARLY  CHILDHOOD. 

THE  name  of  Hugh  Miller,  we  may  safely  presume,  will  be  his 
most  enduring  monument;  but  the  eye  of  the  voyager,  as  he 
passes  from  the  blue  expanse  of  the  Moray  Frith  into  the  land-locked 
bay  of  Cromarty,  will  discover  on  the  left,  crowning  a  swell  of 
green  upland,  which  runs  crescent-like  along  th/e  coast,  a  pillar  of 
red  sandstone,  rising  fifty  feet  into  the  air,  and  surmounted  by  a 
statue.  The  few  white  houses,  embowered  in  garden  foliage,  which 
form  the  better  part  of  the  village  of  Cromarty,  cluster  beneath;  and  the 
sea,  faced  by  a  row  of  thatched  fishermen's  cottages,  comes  rippling, 
at  every  flow  of  the  tide,  to  within  a  bow-shot  of  its  base.  The 
statue  represents  a  grave,  strong-built  man,  of  massive  head,  and 
thoughtful  face,  who  seems  to  look  out  steadfastly  upon  the  waves. 
Statue  and  pillar  constitute  the  monument  reared  by  his  countrymen 
to  Hugh  Miller. 

Almost  at  the  foot  of  the  pillar,  stands  a  humble  cottage,  andN  on 
the  sward  from  which  it  rises  is  placed  the  village  church-yard.  In 
that  cottage  Hugh  Miller  was  born  ;  and  during  his  boyhood  and 
early  youjh  he  was  dependent  on  a  widowed  mother,  who  maintained 
herself  and  her  family  by  the  "sedulously  plied  but  indifferently  re- 
munerated labor"  of  her  needle.  In  that  church-yard  are  several 
head-stones,  chiseled  by  his  hand  when  he  earned  his  bread  as  a  jour- 
neyman mason. 

How  the  son  of  a  sailor's  widow  came  to  address  and  retain  an 
audience  as  wide  as  the  world  of  culture, — how  the  Cromarty  stone- 
mason qualified  himself  for  achieving  a  European  reputation, — is  a 
question  fitted  to  interest  wise  curiosity,  and  deserving  of  explicit  and 
careful  consideration. 

Hugh  Miller,  as  all  the  world  knows,  was  the  author  of  an  autobio- 

(3") 


312  HUGH    MILLER. 

graphic  work,  entitled,  "  My  Schools  and  School-masters."  That  book 
has  been  recognized  by  all  judges  as  one  of  the  most  captivating  and 
able  of  the  author's  performances,  and  has  a  place  in  English  literature, 
from  which  it  can  not  be  moved  ;  but  it  is  no  substitute  for  the  biog- 
raphy of  Hugh  Miller.  In  the  first  place,  it  deals  with  but  one 
portion  of  its  author's  career,  and  that  the  portion  which  preceded 
his  emergence  into  public  life.  In  the  second  place,  there  is  much 
biographic  material  relating  to  Hugh  Miller,  unencroached  upon  in 
the  "  Schools  and  School-masters. "  From  early  boyhood,  he  was  fond 
of  jotting  down  particulars  connected  with  his  personal  history,  and 
for  many  years  previous  to  his  being  harnessed  to  steady  literary  toil, 
he  took  great  delight  in  letter-writing.  In  the  third  place,  biography 
is  necessarily  a  different  matter  from  autobiography ;  the  latter  is 
simply  one  of  the  sources  from  which  the  biographer  should  construct 
his  narrative.  "  It  is  possible,"  says  Hugh  Miller  himself,  "for  two 
histories  of  the  same  period  and  individual  to  be  at  once  true  to  fact, 
and  unlike  each  other  in  the  scenes  which  they  describe  and  the  events 
which  they  record." 

Hugh  Miller  was  born  in  the  town  of  Cromarty,  Scotland,  on  the 
loth  of  October,  1802.  The  occurrence  appears  to  have  acted  on  the 
imagination  of  his  father,  as  he  had  a  "  singular  dream  "  respecting 
his  first-born.  The  midwife  remarked  that  the  conformation  of  the 
head  was  unusual,  and  indicated,  in  her  sage  opinion,  that  the  child 
would  turn  out  an  idiot. 

Cromarty  was  a  more  important  place  seventy  years  ago  than  it  is 
now,  but  its  dimensions  never  exceeded  those  of  a  considerable 
village.  It  is  one  of  several  miniature  towns  which  stud  the  shores  of 
the  Maolbuie,  or  Black  Isle,  a  peninsular  block  of  land,  abutting  on 
the  German  Ocean  in  a  green  headland,  fringed  with  pine,  known  to 
mariners  as  the  Southern  Sutor  of  Cromarty.  On  the  landward  side 
of  this  headland  nestles  the  little  town.  The  Maolbuie,  stretching 
westward,  rises  from  encircling  sea,  occasionally  in  abrupt  crags,  gene- 
rally in  gradual  undulation.  Here  and  there,  along  the  water-courses 
and  in  the  hollows,  are  glimpses  of  green  field  and  leafy  wood,  but  the 
general  impression  is  that  of  a  huge  swell  of  brown  moorland,  over- 
blown by  sea-winds,  traversed  by  chill  fogs,  and  constituting,  on  the 
whole,  one  of  the  most  bleak  and  ungenial  districts  in  Scotland.  The 
natives  of  Cromarty  have  always  been  a  hardy,  long-lived  race.  The 
climate,  though  salubrious,  is  severe.  The  town  is  exposed  at  all 
seasons  to  high  gales  from  the  North  Sea,  laden  with  mist  or  sleet, 
and  even  at  midsummer  keen  blasts  from  the  Atlantic  make  their  way 
through  the  western  hill-gorges,  send  the  spray  of  the  frith  whistling 
through  the  air,  and  pierce  to  every  nook  and  cranny  of  the  shivering 
town.  But  there  are  fertile  spots  in  its  immediate  neighborhood,  and 
in  sheltered  nooks  the  elm  and  poplar  flourish ;  the  air,  except  when 
darkened  by  sea-fog,  is  clear  and  bracing ;  a  chain  of  hills,  running 
along  the  frith  on  the  north,  leads  the  eye  to  the  heights  of  Ben 


HEIGHTS     OF    BEN    WYVIS.  313 

Wyvis,  sleeping  in  the  pearl-blue  of  distance  ;  there  are  brooks  rip- 
pling through  wooded  dells,  and  caves  hollowed  in  the  rock ;  and 
at  all  times,  and  from  almost  every  point  of  view,  there  is  a  gleaming 
of  green  or  purple  waters,  wreathed  with  snowy  foam.  In  favorable 
weather,  Cromarty  is  a  pleasant  place ;  one  who  had  passed  in  it  a 
kindly  childhood  and  youth  might  love  it  well.  Nature,  as  seen  in 
its  vicinity,  if  not  clad  in  Alpine  grandeur,  has  many  aspects  of  beauty 
and  tenderness,  and  at  least  one  aspect,  that  of  ocean,  in  calm  or  in 
storm,  of  utmost  sublimity. 

Like  all  towns  on  the  eastern  coast  of  Scotland,  Cromarty  is  in- 
habited principally  by  an  English-speaking  race,  substantially  identical 
with  that  found  in  the  lowlands  of  Scotland.  Hugh  Miller  never 
spoke  the  language  of  the  Scottish  Highlanders,  and  was  apt  in  con- 
versation to  lay  emphasis  on  the  fact  of  his  being  a  Teuton.  But 
there  was  a  dash  of  good  Celtic  blood  in  his  veins.  Donald  Ross, 
called  also  Donald  Roy,  or  the  Red,  the  grandfather  of  his  grand- 
mother, was  of  the  best  Gaelic  type,  with  the  vivacity,  courage,  and 
religious  susceptibility  of  his  race.  The  history  and  character  of 
Donald,  as  portrayed  in  the  revering  narratives  of  his  descendants, 
were  among  the  sacred  influences  of  Hugh  Miller's  childhood.  The 
figure  of  his  gray-haired  sire,  standing  up  in  the  church  of  Nigg,  and 
defying  the  Presbytery,  in  the  Name  of  God,  to  join  a  minister,  not 
called  by  its  people,  to  its  stone  walls ;  the  ring  which  Miller's  grand- 
mother had  received,  at  the  time  of  her  marriage,  from  Donald,  as  her 
spousal  ring  to  her  other  husband,  the  Head  of  the  Church  ;  the  mys- 
terious hints  which  would  pass  round  the  fireside  circle  in  the  evening, 
that  this  patriarch,  like  the  men  of  God  of  old,  had  been  privileged 
with  visions  of  the  unseen  world,  with  whisperings  out  of  the  abysmal 
deeps  of  futurity, — all  this  was  stamped  upon  the  child's  imagination, 
predisposing  him,  in  the  dawn  of  his  sympathies,  to  look  with  rever- 
ence on  the  religious  character,  and  preparing  him  to  become,  one 
day,  a  leader  among  the  evangelical  religionists  of  Scotland. 

Strong,  however,  as  the  influence  of  his  Celtic  ancestry  may  have 
been  on  Hugh  Miller,  it  was  not  so  powerful  as  that  derived  from 
his  Lowland  fathers.  He  was  descended  on  that  side  from  a  long  line 
of  sea-faring  men,  whose  intrepid  and  adventurous  spirit  had  led  them 
from  their  native  Cromarty,  to  sail,  in  the  earliest  times  of  Scottish 
history,  with  Sir  Andrew  Wood,  or  the  "bold  Bartons,"  and  at  a 
later  period  to  voyage  and  fight  under  Anson,  or  to  engage  in  buc- 
caneering enterprises  on  the  Spanish  main.  For  more  than  a  hun- 
dred years  before  the  birth  of  Hugh  Miller,  not  one  of  his  paternal 
ancestors  had  been  laid  in  the  church-yard  of  Cromarty.  To  the 
latest  hour  of  his  life,  he  cherished  the  profoundest  enthusiasm  for  his 
father,  the  hardy  and  resolute  seaman,  whose  name  he  bore.  He  was 
only  five  years  old  when  Hugh  Miller,  the  elder,  perished  at  sea; 
but  he  had  already  learned  to  love  his  father  with  an  affection  stronger 
than  is  common  in  childhood,  and,  "  long  after  every  one  else  had 


314  HUGH     MILLER. 

ceased  to  hope,"  he  might  be  seen  on  the  grassy  knoll  behind  his 
mother's  house,  looking  wistfully  out  upon  the  Moray  Frith  for  "the 
sloop  with  the  two  stripes  of  white  and  the  two  square  topsails." 

Miller  has  left  us,  in  the  "Schools  and  School-masters,"  a  power- 
ful and  vivid  sketch  of  his  father,  and  the  lineaments  are  those  of  a 
remarkable  man.  Very  gentle,  very  brave,  serenely  invincible  in 
every  change  of  fortune,  patient  to  endure  individual  wrong,  but 
with  a  flash  of  keenest  fire  in  him  to  avenge  the  cruelty  or  injustice 
which  he  saw  practiced  on  others,  he  was  great  without  knowing  it, 
and,  what  is  also  perhaps  an  advantage,  without  its  being  known. 
Miller  says  finely,  that  there  was  a  "bit  of  picture"  in  all  his  recol- 
lections of  his  father,  and  most  picturesquely  has  he  arranged  the 
pieces  in  the  mosaic  of  his  narrative.  We  see  the  bold  seaman,  bronzed 
by  the  southern  sun,  asleep  in  his  open  boat  on  the  Ganges,  and 
mark  him  start  on  awaking  as  he  meets  the  glare  of  a  tiger's  eye,  its 
paw  resting  on  the  gunwale.  We  behold  him  afloat  for  three  days 
in  the  open  sea,  on  the  bottom  of  an  upturned  boat,  sharks  glancing 
around  him  on  the  crests  of  the  waves.  He  bears  meekly  the  op- 
pression^ of  a  cruel  captain,  until  his  kind-hearted  Irish  comrade  is 
being  chained  down  to  the  deck  beneath  a  tropical  sun;  then,  the 
genial  warmth  in  his  bosom  kindling  into  electric  flame,  he  faces  the 
tyrant.  "The  captain  drew  a  loaded  pistol  from  his  belt;  the  sailor 
struck  up  his  hand ;  and,  as  the  bullet  whistled  through  the  rigging 
above,  he  grappled  with  him  and  disarmed  him  in  a  trice."  At  the 
action  off  the  Dogger  Bank  he  does  the  work  of  two  men,  and,  when 
the  action  seems  over,  is  utterly  prostrate;  but  no  sooner  does  rhe 
sign  of  battle  fly  again  along  the  line  than  he  springs  to  his  feet  frtsh 
as  if  he  had  awakened  from  morning  slumber.  Not  less  characteristic 
is  the  steadfastness  of  his  manly  ambition  to  realize  a  competence. 
As  wave  after  wave  of  adversity  meets  him,  he  rises  through  the  swell, 
his  brow  showing  clear  and  proud  in  the  light  of  victory. 

It  was  the  deliberate  conviction  of  Hugh  Miller  that  his  father  was 
an  abler  man  than  he.  To  this  opinion  few  will  subscribe;  but  the 
more  we  study  the  character  of  the  son,  the  deeper  will  be  our  con- 
viction that  it  is  essentially  the  character  of  the  father,  developed 
on  the  intellectual  side  with  more  of  symmetry  and  completeness, 
and  seen  at  last  under  softer  lights.  Physiologists  would  probably 
have  something  to  say  on  this  point.  Modern  science  tends  to  show 
that  there  was  more  in  Mr.  Shandy's  philosophy  of  character  than 
Sterne's  humor  gives  account  of,  and  that,  if  we  can  rightly  estimate 
the  effect  of  local  circumstance  and  other  influences  to  modify  or  to 
transmute,  the  ground-plan  of  a  man's  character  may  be  found  written 
in  his  bones.  Hugh  Miller's  father  was,  at  the  time  of  his  birth,  a 
man  of  forty-four;  mature  in  every  faculty;  of  marked  individuality 
and  iron  will.  His  mother  was  a  girl  of  eighteen,  who  had  been 
brought  up  at  her  husband's  knee,  and  had  learned  to  revere  him  as 
a  father  before  she  accepted  him  as  a  lover.  Throughout  life  she 


MEMORIES    OF    CHILDHOOD.  315 

displayed  no  special  force  of  mind  or  character.  The  first  child  of 
such  a  marriage  was  likely  to  bear  the  indelible  stamp  of  his  father's 
manhood. 

Fancy  delights  to  construct  oracles  from  the  earliest  recollections 
of  men  who  have  become  famous.  We  must  guard  against  attaching 
too  much  importance  to  the  infantile  reminiscences  of  Miller.  Those 
he  mentions  are  graceful  in  themselves,  and  form  a  singularly  appro- 
priate introduction  to  the  life  of  a  man  of  science.  He  remem- 
bered going  into  the  garden  one  day  before  completing  his  third  year, 
and  seeing  there  "a  minute  duckling  covered  with  soft,  yellow  hair, 
growing  out  of  the  soil  by  its  feet,  and  beside  it  a  plant  that  bore  as  its 
flowers  a  crop  of  little  muscle-shells  of  a  deep,  red  color."  The 
"duckling,"  he  tells  us,  belonged  to  the  vegetable  kingdom,  though 
he  could  no  longer  identify  it;  the  muscle-bearing  plant  was,  he  be- 
lieved, a  scarlet-runner.  If  there  is  in  this  incident  any  thing  unusual, 
it  is  the  circumstance  that  natural  phenomena  of  form  and  color,  so 
simple  and  common,  should  have  powerfully  affected  the,  imagination 
of  a  child  not  three  years  old.  The  incidents  first  stored  in  memory 
are  generally  those  of  change  or  excitement — a  storm,  a  removal,  a 
journey,  a  visit  to  a  puppet-show  or  waxwork.  The  forms  of  those 
natural  objects  by  which  a  child  is  surrounded — leaves,  trees,  flowers — 
fall  faintly  on  the  mental  tablets;  probably  not  one  man  in  a  thousand 
retains  a  more  vivid  recollection  of  them  than  of  the  curtains  round 
his  cradle.  During  Hugh  Miller's  life  the  observation  of  a  new  fact 
in  nature  afforded  him  a  thrill  of  pleasure  which  never  lost  its  fresh- 
ness, and  it  seems  probable  that  the  first  consciousness  of  this  pleasure 
arose  in  the  breast  of  small,  toddling,  large-headed  Hugh,  when  he 
opened  wide  his  eyes  to  take  the  bearings  of  the  mysterious  duckling 
and  the  vegetable  muscles. 

More  definitely  important  in  a  biographic  point  of  view,  are  those 
incidents  of  Miller's  childhood  which  formed  what  he  calls  a  "ma- 
chinery of  the  supernatural."  About  the  time  when  the  incomprehen- 
sible duckling  grew  out  of  the  earth  before  his  eyes,  he  thought  that 
he  beheld  the  apparition  of  his  buccaneering  ancestor,  John  Feddes, 
"in  the  form  of  a  large,  tall,  very  old  man,  attired  in  a  light  blue 
great-coat,"  who  stood  on  the  landing-place  at  the  top  of  the  stairs 
and  regarded  him  with  apparent  complacency.  He  was  much  fright- 
ened, and  for  years  dreaded  a  reappearance  of  the  phantom. 

Still  more  circumstantial  is  his  account  of  what  he  saw  on  that 
night  when,  far  away  on  the  North  Sea,  his  father's  ship  went  down. 
"There  were  no  forebodings,"  he  is  careful  to  tell  us,  "in  the  Cromarty 
cottage."  No  storm  agitated  the  air,  and  though  the  billows  of  a  deep 
ground-swell  broke  heavily  under  leaden  skies,  the  weather  occasioned 
no  alarm.  A  hopeful  letter  had  been  received  from  his  father, 
written  at  Peterhead,  and  his  mother  sat  "beside  the  household  fire, 
plying  the  cheerful  needle."  Suddenly  the  door  fell  open,  and  little 
Hugh  was  sent  to  shut  it.  "Day,"  he  proceeds,  "had  not  wholly 


316  HUGH     MILLER. 

disappeared,  but  it  was  fast  posting  on  to  night,  and  a  gray  haze 
spread  a  neutral  tint  of  dimness  over  every  more  distant  object,  but 
left  the  nearer  ones  comparatively  distinct,  when  I  saw  at  the  open 
door,  within  less  than  a  yard  of  my  breast,  as  plainly  as  I  ever  saw 
any  thing,  a  dissevered  hand  and  arm  stretched  towards  me.  Hand 
and  arm  were  apparently  those  of  a  female ;  they  bore  a  livid  and 
sodden  appearance;  and  directly  fronting  me,  where  the  body  ought 
to  have  been,  there  was  only  blank,  transparent  space,  through  which 
I  could  see  the  dim  forms  of  the  objects  beyond.  I  was  fearfully 
startled,  and  ran  shrieking  to  my  mother,  telling  what  i  had  seen; 
and  the  house-girl,  whom  she  next  sent  to  shut  the  door,  apparently 
affected  by  my  terror,  also  returned  frightened,  and  said  that  she,  too, 
had  seen  the  woman's  hand;  which,  however,  did  not  seem  to  be  the 
case.  And  finally  my  mother  going  to  the  door,  saw  nothing,  though 
she  appeared  much  impressed  by  the  extremeness  of  my  terror  and 
the  minuteness  of  my  description.  I  communicate  the  story  as  it  lies 
fixed  in  my  memory,  without  attempting  to  explain  it.  The  supposed 
apparition  may  have  been  merely  a  momentary  affection  of  the  eye, 
of  the  nature  described  by  Sir  Walter  Scott  in  his  'Demonology,' 
and  Sir  David  Brewster  in  his  -'Natural  Magic.'  But  if  so,  the  affec- 
tion was  one  of  which  I  experienced  no  after-return ;  and  its  coinci- 
dence in  the  case,  with  the  probable  time  of  my  father's  death,  seems 
at  least  curious." 

Men  who  believe  in  a  ghost-story  seldom  favor  us  with  unqualified 
avowals  of  the  fact.  Hugh  Miller  seems  to  have  been  persuaded  at 
fifty  that  the  livid  hand  he  saw  at  five  was  preternatural.  The  inci- 
dent is  thus  invested  with  interest,  in  a  biographic  point  of  view.  It 
affords  us  a  glimpse  into  the  subtlest  workings  of  Hugh  Miller's 
mind.  We  must,  therefore,  consider  it  carefully. 

The  appearance,  to  begin  with,  is  to  be  classed  among  the  more 
easily  explicable  phenomena  of  optical  delusion.  The  child,  from 
the  day  his  mind  began  to  receive  impressions  of  any  kind,  had  been 
encompassed  with  an  atmosphere  of  superstition.  In  days  of  steam- 
ships and  telegraphs,  sailors  and  fishermen  continue  a  superstitious 
race;  but  it  is  only  by  the  strongest  effort  of  imagination  that  we  can 
realize  the  extent  to  which  the  natural  and  the  supernatural  were 
confounded  in  remote  fishing-towns  like  Cromarty  at  the  commence- 
ment of  this  century.  Teach  a  child  to  look  for  ghosts,  and  he  will 
be  sure  to  see  them.  Hugh  had  learned  to  associate  the  idea  of  his 
father  with  a  special  manifestation  of  the  awful  and  the  supernatural. 
Often,  while  the  embers  were  burning  low  on  winter  evenings,  and 
every  inmate  of  the  cottage  listened  in  awe-struck  silence,  had  he 
hung  upon  the  lips  of  "Jack  Grant,  the  mate,"  as  he  told  how  his 
father  had  sailed  from  Peterhead  beneath  a  gloomy  twilight;  how  a 
woman  and  child  who  begged  a  passage  were  taken  on  board;  how 
the  wind  rose,  and  the  snow-storm  lashed  the  vessel;  how  a  dead-light 
gleamed  out  on  the  cross-trees;  how  a  ghostly  woman,  with  a  child 


FATHER  AT   SEA.  317 

in  her  arms,  flitted  round  the  master  at  the  helm;  how,  when  dawn 
glimmered  over  the  sea,  the  ship  struck,  and  rolled  over  amid  the 
breakers  on  "the  terrible  bar  of  Findhorn!"  and  how  the  corpse  of 
the  woman,  still  clasping  the  babe  in  her  arms,  was  floated  out  through 
a  hole  in  the  side  of  the  wreck. 

Turn  now  to  the  passage  quoted.  His  father  being  away  at  sea, 
the  child  is  sent,  as  the  dusk  thickens,  to  close  the  cottage  door. 
The  night-mist  is  creeping  up  from  the  sea.  I  have  seen  that  mist — 
seen  it  through  the  eyes  of  childhood — on  the  moorland  of  the  Maol- 
buie,  a  few  miles  west  of  Cromarty;  and  no  one  who  has  seen  it  can 
wonder  that  a  vivid  imagination  should  evoke  spectral  forms  from  its 
twilight  imagery.  The  same  power  of  fantasy  which  called  up  the  ghost 
of  old  John  Feddes  to  stand  upon  the  top  of  the  stair,  revealed  to 
the  eye  of  the  boy,  as  he  peered  into  the  mist  on  that  melancholy 
evening,  a  dissevered  hand  and  arm.  There  is  one  little  circum- 
stance which  renders  it  matter  of  demonstration,  that  his  mind  was 
preoccupied  by  expectation  of  the  marvelous.  "Hand  and  arm"  he 
informs  us,  "were  apparently  those  of  a  female."  How  did  he  know 
this?  A  child  of  five  could  not  distinguish  between  the  "livid  and 
sodden"  hand  and  arm  of  a  man  and  the  "livid  and  sodden"  hand 
and  arm  of  a  woman.  His  imagination,  haunted  by  the  woman  of 
Jack  Grant's  narrative,  created  her. 

The  whole  affair,  then,  resolves  itself  into  a  strong  mental  impres- 
sion of  little  Hugh's  throwing  itself  out,  in  bodiless  form  on  the  mist 
of  the  night.  And  as  was  the  boy,  so  was  the  man.  A  sustained 
intensity  of  mental  vision,  a  creative  power  of  fantasy,  characterized 
Miller  to  the  last.  Not  powerful  enough  to  overbear  or  to  pervert  the 
scientific  instinct  with  which  it  was  associated,  it  had  a  pervasive  in- 
fluence on  his  mental  operations;  the  feeling,  belief,  impression,  on 
his  mind  had  for  him  a  substantive  reality  ;  and  there  was  an  antece- 
dent probability  that,  if  the  steadiness  of  his  intellectual  nerve  were 
shaken  by  disease,  or  by  excess  of  mental  toil,  some  fixed  idea  might 
obtain  the  mastery  over  him  and  hurl  his  reason  from  her  throne. 

It  has  been  said  that  his  mother  was  not  remarkable  for  mental 
power,  or  for  strength  of  character.  She  had,  however,  one  intellec- 
tual faculty  in  extraordinary  vigor,  to  wit,  memory,  and  she  loaded  it 
with  knowledge  of  a  peculiarly  unprofitable  kind.  Her  belief  in 
fairies,  witches,  dreams,  presentiments,  ghosts,  was  unbounded,  and 
she  was  restrained  by  no  modern  scruples  from  communicating  either 
her  fairy  lore,  or  the  faith  with  which  she  received  it,  to  her  son. 
Her  faith  in  her  legendary  personages  was  inextricably  involved  with 
her  belief  in  the  angels  and  spirits  of  Scripture;  and  to  betray  skepti- 
cism as  to  apparitions  and  fairies  was,  in  her  view,  to  take  part  with  the 
Sadducee  or  the  infidel.  "  Such  was  the  powerful  influence,"  says  Mrs. 
Miller,  "  to  which  little  Hugh  was  subjected  for  the  first  six  years  of 
his  life, — a  kind  of  education  the  force  of  which  he  himself  could 
scarcely  estimate.  Add  to  every  thing  else,  that  much  of  his  mother's 


318  HUGH    MILLER. 

sewing  was  making  garments  for  the  dead.  Fancy  that  little,  low 
room,  in  the  winter  evenings,  its  atmosphere  at  all  times  murky  from 
the  dark  earthen  floor,  the  small  windows,  the  fire  on  the  hearth, 
which,  though  furnished  with  a  regular  chimney,  allowed  much  smoke 
to  escape  before  it  found  passage.  Fancy  little  Hugh  sitting  on  a  low 
stool  by  that  hearth- fire,  his  mother  engaged  at  a  large  chest,  :which 
serves  her  for  a  table,  on  which  stands  a  single  candle.  Her  work  is 
dressing  the  shroud  and  the  winding-sheet,  the  dead  irons  click  inces- 
santly, and  her  conversation,  as  she  passes  to  and  fro  to  heat  her  irons 
at  the  fire,  is  of  the  departed,  and  of  mysterious  warnings  and  specters. 
Suddenly,  as  the  hour  grows  late,  distinct  raps  are  heard  on  this  chest, 
— the  forerunners,  she  says,  of  another  dissolution.  Her  tall,  thin 
figure  is  drawn  up  in  an  attitude  of  intense  listening  for  these  signs 
from  the  unseen  world.  The  child  has  been  surrounded  and  per- 
meated with  the  weird  atmosphere.  Then  a  paroxysm  of  terror 
supervenes,  and  he  is  put  to  bed,  to  that  bed  in  the  corner,  in  a 
recess  in  the  wall,  where  he  can  still  see  the  work  proceed,  and  hear 
the  monotonous  click-click  of  those  irons,  till  his  little  eyes  close, 
and  the  world  of  dreams  mingles  with  that  of  reality.  I  have  no 
doubt  that  the  overpowering  terror  of  those  early  times,  the  inability 
to  distinguish  between  waking  and  sleeping  visions,  returned  in  his 
last  days,  stimulating  the  action  of  a  diseased  brain.  The  peculiarity 
of  his  mother's  character  told  against  him.  There  was  plenty  of 
affection,  but  no  counterbalancing  grain  of  any  thing  which  could  in 
the  least  qualify  these  tremendous  doses  of  the  supernatural.  •  He  did 
not  learn  to  read  so  early  as  most  children, — though,  as  he  has  told 
me,  he  learned  his  letters  first  when  almost  in  arms,  off  the  sign-boards 
above  fche  shop  doors, — so  that,  until  after  six,  the  marvelous,  in  its 
lighter  and  more  harmless  forms,  as  in  '  Jack  and  the  Bean-stalk,'  etc., 
did  not  mingle  with  its  darker  and  stronger  shadows.  From  his 
mother  Hugh  undoubtedly  drew  almost  all  the  materials  for  his 
'Scenes  and  Legends,'  and  '  Lykewake,'  etc.,  and  every  minutest 
touch  I  have  given  you  has  been  gathered  from  his  lips  and  hers. ' ' 

Hugh  Miller's  mother  was  evidently  one  who,  in  the  jargon  of  the 
spirit-rapping  fraternity,  would  be  called  a  good  medium.  Interpreted 
into  the  language  of  persons  who  are  neither  knaves  nor  fools,  this 
will  mean,  that  she  was  one  who,  having  long  permitted  fantasy  to  be 
sole  regent  of  her  mind,  had  fallen  into  the  habit  of  mistaking  the 
pale  shapes  and  flitting  shadows  of  its  ghostly  moonlight  for  the  sub- 
stantial forms  of  noonday.  Mrs.  Miller  closes  her  account  of  this 
singular  woman  with  the  following  anecdote:  "She  told  me  that,  on 
the  night  of  Hugh's  death,  suspecting  no  evil,  and  anticipating  no  bad 
tidings,  about  midnight  she  saw  a  wonderfully  bright  light,  like  a  ball 
of  electric  fire,  flit  about  the  room,  and  linger  first  on  one  object  of 
furniture  and  then  on  another.  She  sat  up  in  bed  to  watch  its  prog- 
ress. At  last  it  alighted,  when,  just  as  she  wondered,  with  her  eyes 
fixed  on  it,  what  it  might  portend,  it  was  suddenly  quenched — did 


HIS     MOTHER. 


319 


not  die  out,  but,  as  it  were,  extinguished  itself  in  a  moment,  leaving 
utter  blackness  behind,  and  on  her  frame  the  thrilling  effect  of  a  sud- 
den and  awful  calamity."  The  power  of  distinguishing  between 
visions  seen  when  the  eyes  were  shut  and  actual  phenomena  seen 
when  the  eyes  were  open,  had  manifestly  been  impaired  in  this  woman ; 
and  we  can  not  believe  that  the  influence  of  so  superstitious  a  mother 
upon  Hugh  Miller  was  not  powerful,  merely  because  he  has  refrained 
from  saying  much  about  her  in  the  "Schools  and  School-masters." 
Had  he  completely  emancipated  himself  from  that  influence,  we  might 
have  had  a  full  statement  of  its  nature  and  extent ;  but,  though  he 
evidently  believed  some  of  the  ghostly  sights  of  his  childhood  to  have 
been  preternatural,  he  would  instinctively  shrink  from  the  confession 
that  his  notions  of  the  night-side  of  nature,  and  of  the  boundary  line 
between  the  visible  and  the  invisible  world,  were  to  the  last  modified 
by  what  he  had  learned  at  his  mother's  knee.  It  is  fair  to  her  to 
add,  that  her  power  of  enchaining  the  attention  of  listeners,  while 
she  told  her  tales,  was  quite  extraordinary,  and  that  her  son  assuredly 
owed  to  her,  in  part  at  least,  his  genius  for  narrative. 


FIRST  SCHOOL — UNCLE  JAMES  AND  SANDY — BEGINNINGS  OF  LITERATURE 

AND   SCIENCE. 

The  brave,  kind  father,  then,  is  dead;  and  the  boy,  gaze  he  never 
so  long  across-  the  waves,  will  not  again  clap  his  hands  and  run  to 
tell  his  mother  that  the  sloop  is  in  the  offing.  The  girlish  widow, 
with  her  son  of  five,  and  her  two  daughters  just  emerging  from  in- 
fancy, must  face  the  world  alone.  Of  fixed  yearly  income,  she  has 
about  twelve  pounds,  but  she  is  skilled  as  a  seamstress,  and  applies 
herself  industriously  to  her  needle.  By  way  of  substitute  for  a  father's 
authority  over  her  children,  and  for  a  husband's  counsels  to  herself, 
she  has  the  vigilant,  superintending  friendliness  of  her  two  brothers, 
known  to  readers  of  the  "Schools  and  School-masters"  as  Uncle 
James  and  Uncle  Sandy.  These  occupied  a  single  dwelling,  into 
which  they  took  one  of  the  little  girls,  and  in  which  Hugh  lived  as 
much  as  at  home.  He  could  hardly  have  been  more  happy  in  fireside 
guides  and  instructors.  James  the  elder,  was  a  saddler;  Alexander, 
a  carpenter.  In  any  rank  of  society  they  would  have  been  excep- 
tional men.  Thoughtful,  sagacious,  modest,  independent;  ardent  in 
their  love  of  knowledge,  and  with  no  inconsiderable  stock  of  infor- 
mation; reverent  towards  God;  mindful  of  duty — they  were  such  as 
the  best  Scottish  peasants  and  mechanics  of  the  olden  time  used  to  ' 
be.  "I  never  knew  a  man,"  says  Miller,  "more  rigidly  just  in  his 
dealings  than  Uncle  James,  or  who  regarded  every  species  of  mean- 
ness with  a  more  thorough  contempt."  What  a  grand  contribution 
to  the  education  of  Hugh  Miller  was  made  by  Uncle  James  in  leaving 
that  impression  on  his  memory  and  his  heart !  When  Miller  first 

H 


320  HUGH     MILLER. 

heard  Dr.  M'Crie  preach,  he  wrote  to  his  Uncle  James:  "In  age 
and  figure  I  know  not  where  to  point  out  any  one  who  more  resem- 
bles him  than  yourself."  Collating  this  with  his  description  of  the 
military  bearing  and  combined  modesty  and  dignity  of  demeanor  of 
Dr.  M'Crie,  we  are  led  to  form  a  favorable  idea  of  Uncle  James's 
outer  man.  Uncle  Sandy  had  been  in  the  navy,  had  fought  in  many 
engagements  in  the  great  French  war,  and  had  settled  down  in  his 
native  place  to  a  life  of  happy  industry,  digging  his  sawyer's  pit  in 
summer  in  some  protected  nook  of  the  green  wood,  and  finding  en- 
tertainment at  even-tide  in  the  wonders  of  the  field  or  the  shore. 
He  fought  his  battles  over  again,  and  yet  again,  for  the  benefit  of 
little  Hugh;  but  it  was  from  others,  not  from  himself,  that  the  boy 
heard  of  his  personal  exploits ;  and  his  estimate  of  military  splendors 
was  not  extravagant.  "  Phrophecy  I  find,"  he  said,  f<  gives  to  all 
our  glories  but  a  single  verse,  and  it  is  a  verse  of  judgment."  In 
after-life,  Miller  thought  of  writing  a  life  of  Alexander  Wright. 

Such  were  Hugh  Miller's  instructors  from  the  end  of  his  fifth  year, — 
instructors  to  whom,  as  he  justly  testifies,  he  owed  more  than  to  any 
of  the  teachers  whose  schools  he  afterwards  attended.  The  tales  with 
which  they  charmed  him  called  intellect  and  imagination  into  genial 
and  healthful  exercise.  "I  remember,"  he  says,  in  an  account  of 
his  early  years,  composed  for  Principal  Baird  when  he  was  twenty- 
seven,  and  largely  drawn  upon  in  the  "  Schools  and  School-masters," 
"  I  remember  that  from  my  fourth  to  my  sixth  year,  I  derived  much 
pleasure  from  oral  narrative,  and  that  my  imagination,  even  at  this 
early  period,  had  acquired  strength  enough  to  present  me  with  viv- 
idly-colored pictures  of  all  the  scenes  described  to  me,  and  of  all  the 
incidents  related."  His  eye  had  not  yet  opened  on  the  world  of 
books. 

Hugh  had  been  sent  to  a  dame's  school  before  his  father's  death, 
and  in  the  course  of  his  sixth  year,  after  much  labor  and  small  ap- 
parent profit,  he  made  the  discovery  that  "  the  art  of  reading  is  the 
art  of  finding  stories  in  books."  Did  ever  child  in  Eastern  romance 
light  on  so  wonderful  a  talisman?  The  gates  flew  open  and  the 
gardens  of  knowledge  stretched  before  him,  the  trees  drooping  with 
golden  fruit,  the  earth  radiant  with  flowers.  Hugh  Miller  had  made 
what  he  calls  the  grand  acquirement  of  his  life, — he  could  hold  con- 
verse with  books. 

Now  at  last,  like  all  children  of  talent,  he  reveled  in  the  tradi- 
tionary literature  of  the  nursery:  "Jack  the  Giant-Killer,"  "Blue 
Beard,"  "Aladdin  and  the  Wonderful  Lamp."  Two  other  books 
gave  him  equal  or  greater  delight:  the  "Pilgrim's  Progress,"  and 
Pope's  "Homer."  "I  saw,"  says  Miller,  "even  at  this  immature 
period,  that  no  writer  could  cast  a  javelin  with  half  the  force  of 
Homer."  Pope's  transmutations  of  the  "Iliad"  and  "Odyssey" 
have  often  been  favorite  reading  with  children.  One  of  the  choice 


EARLY     SCHOOL      DAYS.  321 

sports  of  Arnold's  early  boyhood  was  to  act  the  battles  of  the  Ho- 
meric heroes,  and  recite  their  several  speeches  according  to  Pope. 
Hugh  was  now  promoted  from  the  dame's  school  to  the  parish 
school,  and  introduced  into  the  society  of  one  hundred  and  twenty 
boys.  These,  with  a  class  of  girls,  bringing  the  whole  number  up  to 
one  hundred  and  fifty,  were  under  the  superintendence  of  a  single 
master;  and,  when  it  is  added  that  the  competence  of  that  master's 
acquirements  and  the  excellence  of  his  character  were  qualified  by 
sluggishness,  and  associated  with  no  force,  fineness,  or  sympathetic 
richness  of  mind,  it  will  be  evident  that  little  deserving  the  name 
of  education  could  be  had  in  the  place.  A  boy  of  six,  however 
strong  his  intellectual  bent,  requires  a  certain  amount  of  well-applied 
compulsion  to  induce  him  to  prefer  his  lessons  to  his  play.  Hugh 
left  to  do  as  he  choose,  preferred  the  latter;  but  if,  in  his  lessons, 
he  was  "an  egregious  trifler,"  he  was  intellectual  enough  in  his 
sports.  In  addition  to  the  nursery  treasures  already  mentioned,  the 
narratives  of  Cook,  Anson,  and  Woods  Rogers  afforded  him  inex- 
haustible delight,  and  inflamed  him  with  a  passionate  desire  to  be  a 
sailor.  He  spent  much  of  his  time  sauntering  about  the  harbor,  or 
peering  and  prying  aboard  the  ships.  One  of  his  amusements  was 
to  trace  on  the  maps  of  an  old  geographical  grammar  the  path  of 
vessels  to  and  from  the  countries%  visited  by  his  father  or  by  Uncle 
Sandy.  He  began  to  compose  before  he  could  write.  "  I  was  in 
the  habit,"  he  says,  in  the  account  of  his  life  previously  referred  to, 
"  of  quitting  my  school  companions  for  the  sea-shore,  where  I  would 
saunter  for  whole  hours,  pouring  out  long  blank-verse  effusions  (rhyme 
was  a  discovery  of  after-date)  about  sea-fights,  storms,  ghosts,  and 
desert  islands.  These  effusions  were  no  sooner  brought  to  a  close 
than  forgotten;  and  no  one  knew  any  thing  of  them  but  myself;  for 
I  had  not  yet  attained  the  art  of  writing,  and  I  could  compose  only 
when  alone."  That  passion  for  linguistic  expression — that  rapture  in 
fitting  thought  and  emotion  to  words,  by  which  nature  seems  to  point 
out  the  born  literary  man,  was  already  characteristic  of  Miller. 

Following  this  child,  whose  very  amusements  are  intellectual,  into 
the  school-room,  we  perceive  that  he  is  in  a  fair  way  to  earn  the 
reputation  of  dunce.  Accustomed  to  learn  by  the  eye,  to  stray 
down  vistas  of  picture  constructed  for  him  by  his  imagination  from 
the  materials  of  his  favorite  books,  he  takes  no  interest  in  the  me- 
chanical operations  of  memory.  The  Latin  rudiments  in  particular 
prove  incapable  of  imaginative  illumination.  The  sluggard  school- 
master never  tells  him  that  if  he  be  but  brave  enough  to  grope  for  a 
time  as  through  a  dark  passage,  the  classic  wonder-land  will  open  on 
his  sight.  An  intelligent  and  spirited  boy  to  work  heartily  at  his 
tasks,  must  know  what  he  is  about,  and  have  some  conception  of  the 
guerdon  which  is  to  reward  his  toil.  It  never  occurs  to  this  school- 
master that  he  may  be  the  dunce,  stolidly  inapprehensive  .of  the  re- 
quirements of*the  case,  and  of  the  nature  of  his  duty  towards  his 
21 


322  HUGH     MILLER. 

peculiar  pupil.  He  takes  the  more  obvious,  comfortable,  and  human- 
natural  course  of  deciding  that  Hugh's  uncles  have  overrated  his 
abilities,  and  that  he  is  a  mere  ordinary  dullard. 

Miller's  trifling  proved  infectious.  He  had  one  day,  on  some  im- 
pulse of  the  moment,  taken  to  relating  to  the  boy  who  sat  next  him, 
the  adventures  of  Sir  William  Wallace.  A  group  of  fascinated  list- 
eners soon  hung  round  the  interesting  dunce.  To  narratives  from 
blind  Harry  succeeded  tales  from  Cook  and  Anson ;  and  when  these 
were  exhausted,  imagination  was  called  upon  to  supply  the  article  in 
request.  The  improvising  practice  he  had  enjoyed  in  his  solitary 
walks  now  stood  him  in  good  stead,  and  he  regaled  his  auditors 
with 

boyish  histories 

Of  battle,  bold  adventure,  dungeon,  wreck, 

Flights,  terrors,  sudden  rescues. 

"In  a  short  time" — these  are  his  own  words — "my  narratives  had 
charmed  the  very  shadow  of  discipline  out  of  the  class."  In  his 
English  reading-lessons  he  appeared  to  some  advantage,  the  master 
contriving  to  make  out  that  he  could  distinguish  between  good  and 
bad  in  style ;  but  on  the  whole,  he  looked  upon  school  attendance  as 
a  mere  curtailment  of  his  freedom,  made  no  progress  whatever  in 
spelling  and  parsing,  and  in  Latin,  failed  utterly. 

In  some  respects — always  excepting  those  for  which  it  was  specially 
intended — the  school  was  not  amiss.  In  the  company  of  one  hundred 
and  fifty  boys  and  girls,  there  is  likely  to  be  not  a  little  that  will  con- 
tribute to  mental  and  physical  development.  From  the  windows, 
could  be  seen,  at  all  hours,  ships  and  boats  entering  or  leaving  the 
harbor;  at  certain  seasons  the  turf  before  the  door  glittered  with  myr- 
iads of  herrings,  the  air  became  alive  with  bustle  of  curing  opera- 
tions; a  pig-slaughtering  establishment  was  at  hand,  where  Hugh, 
turning  characteristically  from  the  slaying  processes,  could  look  in- 
quiringly into  the  mysteries  of  porcine  anatomy ;  and  there  was  a 
chance,  at  any  moment,  of  taking  part  in  a  glorious  expedition  sent 
forth  to  exact,  arte  vel  Marie,  the  tribute  of  peats  which  the  boat- 
men of  Ross,  as  they  arrived  with  their  cargoes,  were  bound  to  pay 
to  the  school.  An  annual  cock-fight  was  celebrated  by  the  boys  and 
their  teacher ;  but  in  this  he  took  no  more  interest  than  in  the  kill- 
ing of  the  pigs ;  the  tenderness  he  had  derived  from  his  father  for- 
bade him. 

In  his  tenth  year,  the  spell  cast  over  his  imagination  by  the  narra- 
tives of  the  sea-captains  had  been  broken.  He  had  read  "The  Adven- 
tures of  Sir  William  Wallace,"  by  the  Scottish  Homer  of  the  fifteenth 
century,  of  whom  we  know  only  that  his  name  was  Harry,  that  he 
was  blind,  that  he  earned  his  bread  by  repeating  his  poetry  in  the 
laird's  hall  and  by  the  farmer's  ingle,  and  that  he  professed  to  base 
his  narrative  on  a  history  of  Wallace,  written  in  Latin  by  his  chap- 
lain, named  Blair.  * 


ADVENTURES     OF     "WALLACE.  323 

It  was  owing  doubtless  to  the  entireness  and  intensity  of  his  pa- 
triotic devotion  to  Scotland  and  to  Wallace,  that  his  book  was  for 
centuries  "the  Bible  of  the  Scottish  people,"  and  that  it  profoundly 
affected  the  boyish  imaginations  of  Robert  Burns,  of  Walter  Scott, 
and  of  Hugh  Miller.  The  fiery  patriotism  of  this  book  inspired  those 
national  songs  of  Burns,  and  those  magical  tones  occurring  at  intervals 
in  all  his  poems,  which  will  thrill  readers  to  their  inmost  hearts  so 
long  as  love  of  country  endures.  Its  effect  on  Hugh  Miller  was  to 
make  him  a  Scottish  patriot  to  the  finger-tips.  Affection  for  his 
country  was  from  that  time  a  ruling  passion  in  his  breast,  and  his 
ideal  of  a  great  man  was  a  great  Scotchman. 

No  wise  critic  will  dispute  that  this  was  an  important  and  an  au- 
spicious advance  in  the  development  of  the  boy.  He  who,  as  a  boy, 
is  indifferent  to  his  own  country,  will,  as  a  man,  be  indifferent  to  all 
countries.  Hugh  Miller,  we  need  not  doubt,  owed  much  of  that 
home-bred  vigor,  that  genial  strength,  racy  picturesqueness,  and  idio- 
matic pith  which  characterize  his  writings,  to  the  early  influence  of 
Blind  Harry. 

Meanwhile  he  has  been  learning  to  read  in  a  book  whose  lessons 
he  could  not  outgrow,  and  whose  illuminated  lettering,  of  gem  and 
flower  and  shell,  has  a  charm  for  eye  and  heart,  which  had  been 
absent  from  the  Latin  Rudiments.  Upon  the  sands  at  ebb-tide, 
when  the* slant  sun-light  strikes  ruddy  from  -the  west,  the  boy  may 
be  seen  trotting  by  the  side  of  Uncle  Sandy,  hunting  for  a  lump- 
fish  in  the  weeded  pools,  hanging  in  ecstasy  over  the  sea-mosses, 
that  glance  through  the  lucid  wave  with  more  delicate  splendor  of 
rubied  flush  and  scarlet  gleam,  of  golden  tress  and  silken  fringe,  of 
tender  pearl  and  beaming  silver,  than  graced  the  jeweled  princesses 
of  his  fairy-books,  and  drinking  in  with  eager  attention  every  word 
uttered  by  his  guide.  We  can  picture  him  a  kilted  urchin,  probably 
barefooted,  with  bright  auburn  hair,  glowing  blue  eyes,  cheek 
touched  with  the  crimson  of  health,  the  face  marked  by  quiet 
thoughtfulness  and  incipient  power.  His  uncles  were  doubtless  per- 
plexed with  their  nephew ;  but,  on  the  whole,  despite  the  head- 
shaking  of  the  school-master,  and  Hugh's  manifest  lack  of  interest 
in  the  Rudiments,  they  could  not  believe  that  the  boy  who,  since 
the  dawn  of  his  faculties,  had  been  a  good  listener,  a  voracious 
reader,  a  quick  and  intelligent  observer,  was  the  dunce  his  pedagogue 
pronounced  him. 


MILLER'S  ADVENTURE  IN  THE  DOOCOT  CAVE. 

He  was  twelve  years  old  when  the  notable  adventure  of  the  Doocot 
Cave  afforded  him  the  subject  of  his  first  verses.  The  incident, 
slight  in  itself,  happens  to  possess  extraordinary  interest  in  a  biograph- 
ical point  of  view.  An  event  which  impresses  the  mind  strongly 


324  HUGH     MILLER. 

in  boyhood  becomes  entwined,  as  we  proceed  in  our  life-journey, 
with  innumerable  associations,  and  when  at  successive  stages  in  our 
path  we  attempt  to  recall  its  precise  circumstances,  we  fail  to  place 
them  in  their  original  bareness  before  the  mind's  eye.  Suppose,  then, 
that  in  endeavoring  to  know  a  man,  to  realize  what,  in  the  stages  of 
his  growth,  he  was,  and  what  he  could  do,  we  met  with  successive 
accounts  from  his  pen  of  one  and  the  same  incident, — would  we  not 
feel  that  a  curiously  instructive  opportunity  was  afforded  us  of  taking 
the  observations  necessary  for  our  purpose?  How  glad  would  the 
biographer  of  a  great  painter  be  to  light  upon  a  series  of  pictures 
from  his  hand,  the  subject  the  same  in  all,  but  the  occasions  when 
they  were  painted  falling  at  different  dates  in  his  history,  from  the 
morning  of  life  until  its  afternoon  !  It  is  this  advantage  we  possess 
in  connection  with  Hugh  Miller's  boyish  adventure  in  the  Doocot 
Cave.  There  exist  at  least  four  accounts  of  the  incident  drawn  up  by 
himself, — four  successive  paintings  of  the  same  scene  by  the  boy,  the 
strippling,  the  man  of  twenty-seven,  and  the  man  of  fifty. 

The  first  is  that  referred  to  in  the  "Schools  and  School- masters," 
as  executed  in  "  enormously  bad  verse  "  a  day  or  two  after  the  oc- 
currence. The  copy  before  me  is  the  identical  one  which  excited  the 
admiring  wonder  of  Miss  Bond,  mistress  of  the  Cromarty  Boarding 
School.  Attached  to  it  is  that  pictorial  representation  of  the  scene 
which  Miller  describes  as  consisting  of  "  horrid  crags  of  burtit  umber, 
perforated  by  yawning  caverns  of  India  ink,  and  crested  by  a  dense 
forest  of  sap-green."  You  can  see  what  is  intended  ;  the  sea  is  below 
the  cavern,  and  the  sward  and  wood  are  above ;  but  the  whole  is  not 
superior  to  the  ordinary  daubing  of  child-artists.  The  verses  exhibit 
internal  evidence  of  having  been  written  within  a  day  or  two  of  the 
event  they  record.  The  agony  of  distress  and  terror  experienced  by 
the  boy  of  twelve  when  he  and  his  companion — a  lad  still  younger — 
found  themselves,  as  night  came  on,  with  the  sea  before,  impassible 
rocks  on  either  hand,  and  a  dark  cavern  behind, — this,  and  their 
contrasted  rapture  when  the  boats  hailed  them  at  midnight,  supersede 
all  reflection  on  the  beauties  of  the  landscape  or  the  wonders  of  the 
cave.  The  grammar  and  spelling  are  about  as  bad  as  possible.  Here 
are  the  first  two  lines : 

"  When  I  to  you  unfolds  my  simple  tale, 
And  paints  the  horrors  of  a  rocky  vail." 

He  forgets  to  say  what  will  happen  when  the  dreadful  revelation 
takes  place,  and  strikes  presently  into  description  of  the  cave.  We 
need  not  retain  the  childish  misspelling  : 

"  There  stands  a  cavern  on  the  sea-beat  shore, 
Which  stood  for  ages  since  the  days  of  yore, 
Whose  open  mouth  stands  forth  awfully  wide, 
And  oft  takes  in  the  roaring,  swelling  tide. 
Out  through  the  cavern  water  oozes  fast, 
Which  ends  in  nothing  but  white  stones  at  last. 


LIFE     AT    TWELVE     YEARS. 

Two  boys,  the  author  one,  away  did  stray, 
Being  on  a  beauteous  and  a  sunshine  day." 

The  contemptuous  "nothing  but  white  stones  "  hardly  betrays  the 
future  geologist,  and  the  naivete  of  "the  author  one"  is  charming. 
The  last  three  stanzas  relate,  in  very  flat  prose  fitted  with  rhyme, 
that  the  boys  went  to  the  cavern  "for  some  stones,"  found  that  the 
water  had  filled  in  round  them,  tried  to  get  out  but  could  not,  were 
doubly  pained  when  "  the  night  came  on,  down  poured  the  heavy 
rain,"  and  "  ran  so  very  fast  "  to  the  boats  when  they  came  to  rescue 
them.  Nothing  here  but  the  sternest  historical  realism.  Fancy  has 
not  gilded  the  clouds,  nor  enthusiasm  softened  the  colors ;  the  fact 
stands  simply  out  as  an  experience  of  unromantic  misery. 

For  several  years  this  version  seems  to  have  contented  Hugh,  the 
revision  it  underwent  extending  only  to  verbal  alterations.  The  lad 
of  nineteen,  however,  discards  the  whole,  and  produces  a  more  polished 
and  melodious  ditty.  The  friend  who  shared  the  adventure  is  dis- 
missed, and  the  interest  centers  in  the  "author,"  or,  as  he  is  now 
more  poetically  styled,  "the  Muses'  youngest  child,"  or,  with  a 
touch  of  remorseful  pathos,  "the  Muses'  rude,  untoward  child." 
He  has  learned  to  sketch  in  Scott's  lighter  manner,  and  there  is 
something  of  gracefulness  and  vivacity  in  his  handling  : 

"  Well  may  fond  memory  love  to.  trace 
The  semblance  of  that  lonely  place ; 
Much  may  she  joy  to  picture  fair 
Each  cliff  that  frowns  in  darkness  there  ; 
For  when  alone  in  youth  I  strayed 
To  haunted  cave  or  forest  glade, 
Each  rock,  each  lonely  dell,  I  knew, 
Where  flow'rets  bloomed,  or  berries  grew ; 
Knew  where,  to  shelf  of  whitened  rock, 
At  eve  the  sable  cormorants  flock ; 
Could  point  the  little  arm  to  where 
Deep  the  wild  fox  had  dug  his  lair ; 
Had  marked  with  curious  eye  the  cell 
Where  the  rock-pigeon  loved  to  dwell ; 
Had  watched  the  seal  with  silent  ken, 
And,  venturous,  stormed  the  badger's  den." 

In  the  following  lines  there  seems  to  be  an  echo  from  Byron's 
tales: 

"  Oft  had  our  poet  wished  to  brave 
The  giddy  height  and  foaming  wave 
That  wildly  dashed  and  darkly  frowned 
The  Doocot's  yawning  caves  around. 
For  many  a  tale  of  wondrous  kind 
With  wild  impatience  fired  his  mind; 
Talcs  of  dark  caves,  where  never  ray 
Of  summer's  sun  was  seen  to  play ; 
Talcs  of  a  spring  whose  ceaseless  wave 
Nor  gurgling  sound  nor  murmur  gave, 
But  like  that  queen  who,  in  her  pride, 
Latona's  ruthless  twins  defied, 


326  HUGH    MILLER. 

To  meltless  marble,  as  it  flows 

Through  stiffening  moss  and  lichens,  grows; 

Before  he  deem  these  marvels  true 

The  caves  must  meet  his  curious  view." 

Considerable  progress  here  from  the  "  water  oozing  fast,"  and 
"nothing  but  white  stones,"  of  the  first  edition.  In  that  perform- 
ance the  arrival  of  the  boat  had  been  emphatically  chronicled,  "the 
author"  dwelling  with  manifest  satisfaction  on  the  event.  It  would 
not,  however,  have  been  poetical  enough  for  "  the  Muses'  youngest 
child"  to  be  taken  off  at  midnight  by  mere  terrestrial  fishermen.  In 
the  new  edition,  accordingly,  he  remains  until  "Aurora"  makes  her 
appearance  : 

"  And  clear  and  calm  the  billow  rolled, 
With  shade  of  green  and  crest  of  gold." 

The  second  of  these  lines  is  finely  colored. 

In  the  vigor  of  early  manhood,  Miller  described  the  adventure  of 
the  cave  in  a  letter  to  a  former  teacher.  The  picture  has  become 
full  in  detail,  and  glowing  in  tint:  "The  cave  proved  a  mine  of 
wonders.  We  found  it  of  great  depth,  and,  when  at  its  farthest  ex- 
tremity, the  sea  and  opposite  land  appeared  to  us  as  they  would  if 
viewed  through  the  tube  of  a  telescope.  We  discovered  that  its  sides 
and  roof  were  crusted  over  with  a  white  stone,  resembling  marble, 
and  that  it  contained  a  petrifying  spring.  The  pigeons,  which  we 
disturbed,  were  whizzing  by  us  through  the  gloom,  reminding  us  of 
hags  of  our  story  books,  when  on  their  night  voyage  through  the  air.  A 
shoal  of  porpoises  were  tempesting  the  water  in  their  unwieldy  gam- 
bols, scarcely  a  hundred  yards  from  the  cavern's  mouth,  and  a  flock 
of  sea-gulls  were  screaming  around  them,  like  harpies  around  the  viands 
of  the  Trojan.  To  add  to  the  interest  of  the  place,  we  had  learned 
from  tradition  that,  in  the  long  syne,  this  cave  had  furnished  Wallace 
with  a  hiding-place,  and  that  more  recently  it  had  been  haunted  by 
smugglers.  In  the  midst  of  our  engagements,  however,  the  evening 
began  to  darken,  and  we  discovered  that  our  very  fine  cave  was 
neither  more  nor  less  than  a  prison.  We  attempted  climbing  round, 
but  in  vain  ;  for  the  shelf  from  whence  we  had  leaped  was  unattain- 
able, and  there  was  no  other  path.  'What  will  my  mother  think?  ' 
said  the  poor  little  fellow,  whom  I  had  brought  into  this  predicament, 
as  he  burst  into  tears.-  '  I  would  care  nothing  for  myself, — but  my 
mother.'  The  appeal  was  powerful,  and,  had  he  not  cried,  I  pro- 
bably would  ;  but  the  si<,ht  of  his  tears  roused  my  pride,  and,  with 
a  feeling  which  Rochefoucault  would  have  at  once  recognized  as 
springing  from  th?  master  principle,  I  attempted  to  comfort  him  ; 
and  for  the  time  completely  forgot  my  own  sorrow  in  exulting,  with 
all  due  sympathy,  over  his.  Night  came  on  both  dark  and  rainy,  and 
we  lay  down  together  in  a  corner  of  the  cave.  A  few  weeks  prior, 
the  corpse  of  a  fisherman,  who  had  been  drowned  early  in  the  pre- 
ceding winter,  had  been  found  on  the  beach  below.  It  was  much 


PROSE     VERSION     OF     DOOCOT     CAVE.  327 

gashed  by  the  sharp  rocks,  and  the  head  was  beaten  to  pieces.  I 
had  seen  it  at  the  time  it  was  'carried  through  the  streets  of  Cromarty 
to  the  church,  where,  in  this  part  of  the  country,  the  bodies  of 
drowned  persons  are  commonly  put  until  the  coffin  and  grave  be  pre- 
pared ;  and  all  this  night  long,  sleeping  or  waking,  the  image  of  this 
corpse  was  continually  before  me.  As  often  as  I  slumbered,  a  man- 
gled, headless  thing  would  come  stalking  into  the  cave  and  attempt 
striking  me,  when  I  would  awaken  with  a  start,  cling  to  my  com- 
panion, and  hide  my  face  in  his  breast.  About  one  o'clock  ^n  the 
morning  we  were  relieved  by  two  boats,  which  our  friends,  who  had 
spent  the  early  part  of  the  night  in  searching  for  us  in  the  woods 
above,  had  fitted  out  to  try  along  the  shore  for  our  bodies ;  they 
having  at  length  concluded  that  we  had  fallen  over  the  cliffs,  and 
were  killed." 

Last  of  all,  written  when  he  was  turned  of  fifty,  we  have  the 
narrative  of  the  occurrence  as  it  appears  in  the  "  Schools  and  School- 
masters." The  passage,  too  long  to  quote  in  its  completeness,  is  one 
of  the  most  rich  and  elaborate  in  the  works  of  Hugh  Miller.  The 
"nothing  but  white  stones"  of  the  first  description,  and  the  "melt- 
less  marble"  of  the  second,  have  become  the  blended  poetry  and 
science  of  the  following  sentences  :  "  There  were  little  pools  at  the 
side  of  the  cave,  where  we  could  see  the  work  of  congelation  going 
on,  as  at  the  commencement  of  the  October  frost,  when  the  cold 
north  wind  ruffles,  and  but  barely  ruffles,  the  surface  of  some  mount- 
ain lochan  or  sluggish  mountain  stream,  and  shows  the  newly  formed 
needles  of  ice,  projecting  mole-like  from  the  shores  into  the  water. 
So  rapid  was  the  course  of  deposition,  that  there  were  cases  in  which 
the  sides  of  the  hollows  seemed  growing  almost  in  proportion  as  the 
water  rose  in  them  ;  the  springs,  lipping  over,  deposited  their  minute 
crystals  on  the  edges ;  and  the  reservoirs  deepened  and  became  more 
capacious  as  their  mounds  were  built  up  by  this  curious  masonry." 
The  idea  of  the  telescope,  which  occurs  first  in  the  third  description,  is 
finely  worked  out  in  the  fourth:  "The  long,  telescopic  prospect  of 
the  sparkling  sea,  as  viewed  from  the  inner  extremity  of  the  cavern, 
while  all  around  was  dark  as  midnight ;  the  sudden  gleam  of  the  sea- 
gull, seen  for  a  moment  from  the  recess,  as  it  flitted  past  in  the  sun- 
shine; the  black,  heaving  bulk  of  the  grampus,  as  it  threw  up  its  slender 
jets  of  spray,  and  then,  turning  downwards,  displayed  its  glossy  back 
and  vast  angular  fih  ;  even  the  pigeons,  as  they  shot  whizzing  by,  one 
moment  scarce  visible  in  the  gloom,  the  next  radiant  in  the  light, — 
all  acquired  a  new  interest,  from  the  peculiarity  of  the  setting  in 
which  we  saw  them.  They  formed  a  series  of  sun-gilt  vignettes,  framed 
in  jet ;  and  it  was  long  ere  we  tired  of  seeing  and  admiring  in  them 
much  of  the  strange  and  the  beautiful." 

The  scenery  of  the  heavens  is  hardly  referred  to  in  the  first  sketch. 
The  fact  of  a  rain-storm  having  aggravated  the  horrors  of  the  situa- 
tion, is  mentioned;  but  the  boy  thinks  of  nothing  except  the  addi- 


328  HUGH    MILLER. 

tional  pain  it  occasioned.  When  Hugh  Miller  had  watched  the 
sunsets  of  forty  other  summers,  he  "put  in  the  sky"  of  his  picture 
thus:  "The  sun  had  sunk  behind  the  precipices,  and  all  was  gloom 
along  their  bases,  and  double  gloom  in  their  caves;  but  their  rugged 
brows  still  caught  the  red  glare  of  evening.  The  flush  rose  higher 
and  higher,  chased  by  the  shadows ;  and  then,  after  lingering  for  a 
moment  on  their  crests  of  honeysuckle  and  juniper,  passed  away,  and 
the  whole  became  somber  and  gray.  The  sea-gull  sprang  upward 
from  yhere  he  had  floated  on  the  ripple,  and  hied  him  slowly  away 
to  his  lodge  in  his  deep-sea  stack ;  the  dusky  cormorant  flitted  past, 
with  heavier  and  more  frequent  stroke,  to  his  whitened  shelf  high  on 
the  precipice ;  the  pigeons  came  whizzing  downwards  from  the  up- 
lands and  the  opposite  land,  and  disappeared  amid  the  gloom  of 
their  caves;  every  creature  that  had  wings  made  use  of  them  in  speed- 
ing homewards;  but  neither  my  companion  nor  myself  had  any,  and 

there  was   no  possibility  of  getting  home  without  them 

For  the  last  few  hours,  mountainous  piles  of  clouds  had  been  rising 
dark  and  stormy  in  the  sea-mouth;  they  had  flared  portentously  in 
the  setting  sun,  and  had  worn,  with  the  decline  of  evening,  almost 
every  meteoric  tint  of  anger,  from  fiery  red  to  a  somber,  thunderous 
brown,  and  from  somber  brown  to  doleful  black." 

All  these  things  were  seen  by  Hugh  Miller,  as  he  stood  on  the 
threshold  of  the  cave,  or  looked  out  from  within  through  its  rock- 
hewn  telescope ;  but  it  was  not  the  Hugh  Miller  of  twelve  years  who 
saw  them ;  it  was  the  Hugh  Miller  of  fifty  who  was  transported  by 
imagination  to  stand  again  in  the  entrance  of  the  cave,  or  gaze  again 
from  its  interior,  and  to  see  "what  the  eye  brought  with  it  the  means 
of  seeing."  It  was  as  if  Turner,  at  fifty,  had  taken  it  into  his  head 
to  paint  the  first  sunset  on  which  he  had  looked  with  boyish  delight, 
and  in  so  doing,  had  thrown  upon  the  canvas  the  science  and  subtlety 
of  a  life  spent  in  the  observation  of  nature. 


FIRST    GLIMPSE     OF     THE    SUTHERLAND     HIGHLANDS — EXPERIMENTS     IN 
SELF-AMUSEMENT — THE    REBELLIOUS    SCHOOL-BOY. 

Soon  after  the  occurrence  which  has  detained  us  so  long,  the  boy 
proceeded  on  a  visit  to  certain  relatives  in  the  Highlands  of  Suther- 
land; a  visit  which  was  repeated  in  two  successive  autumns.  His 
faculties  were  thus  exercised  by  new  scenes  and  new  acquaintances ; 
he  listened  to  discussions  on  the  poems  of  Ossian,  and  began  secretly 
to  think  it  probable  that  the  famed  Celtic  bard  belonged  to  the 
ancient  clan,  MacPherson;  he  added  to  the  picture-gallery  of  his 
imagination  a  few  fresh  subjects — long,  low  valleys  in  tender  blue, 
enlivened  by  green-wooded  knolls,  and  delicately  draped  with  wreaths 
of  morning  mist;  reaches  of  quiet  lake,  with  gray  ruins  nodding  on 
slim  promontories;  waterfalls  glancing  by  the  silvery  boles  of  birch- 


AMUSEMENTS     AT      FOURTEEN.  329 

trees,  and  sending  up  a  steamy  spray  to  fall  gem-like  on  their  drooping 
foliage  ;  and  he  laid  the  foundation  of  that  thorough  comprehension 
of  the  character  of  the  Highlanders,  and  of  the  condition  of  the 
Highlands,  which  made  him  in  after-life  one  of  the  best  authorities 
on  all  Highland  questions. 

Whether  in  Sutherland  or  at  home,  his  mind  was  constantly  active, 
constantly  growing.  His  school-fellows  wondered  and  derided  as 
they  beheld  him  launching  on  the  horse-pond  a  succession  of  mys- 
terious vessels  constructed  from  the  descriptions  of  Anson,  Cook, 
and  other  voyagers.  In  the  "Schools  and  School-masters"  we  hear 
of  one  of  these,  a  proa,  similar  to  those  used  by  the  Ladrone 
islanders,  but  this  was  no  more  than  a  single  specimen  of  his  ship- 
carpentering.  "I  used,"  he  wrote  to  Baird,  "to  keep  in  exercise  the 
risible  faculties  of  all  the  mimic  navigators  of  the  pond,  with  slim, 
fish-like  boats  of  bark,  like  those  of  the  .North  American  Indians, 
awkward,  high-pooped  galleys,  like  those  I  had  seen  in  an  old  edition 
of  Dryden's  "Virgil,"  two-keeled  vessels,  like  the  double  canoes  of 
Otaheite,  and  wall-sided  half-vessels,  like  the  proas  of  the  Ladrone 
islands.  Nor  could  I,"  he  proceeds,  "derive,  like  my  companions, 
any  pleasure  from  the  merely  mechanical  operation  of  plain  sailing. 
I  had  a  story  connected  with  every  voyage,  and  every  day  had  its 
history  of  expeditions  of  discovery,  and  cases  of  mutiny  and  ship- 
wreck." Navigation  gave  place  to  chemistry,  but  his  experiments 
were  "wofully  unfortunate."  Then  he  tried  painting;  but,  as  the  art 
seems  to  have  required  boiling  of  oil,  and  as  he  boiled  it  so  effectually 
that  the  flame  found  its  way  out  at  the  chimney-top,  and  a  "sublime 
fire-scene,"  threatening  to  become  more  sublime  than  agreeable,  was 
the  result,  the  brush  was  thrown  aside.  The  founding  of  leaden 
images  was  next  attempted  ;  but  one  of  the  busts  being  waggishly  like 
a  neighbor,  and  troubles  arising  in  consequence,  this,  also,  was  aban- 
doned. "My  ingenuity  gained  me  such  a  reprimand,  that  I  flung  my 
casts  into  the  fire."  He  now  took  a  turn  at  "mosaic  work,"  and 
this  was  followed  by  attempts  to  fashion  watch-seals.  "When  I  had 
worn  the  points  of  my  fingers  with  cutting  and  polishing  until  the 
blood  appeared,  I  forsook  the  grindstone."  He  fdl  in  with  a  book 
on  natural  magic,  palmistry,  and  astrology,  and  for  a  time  went  wool- 
gathering upon  that  particular  range  of  the  mountains  of  vanity.  He 
became  a  sufficient  adept  in  palmistry  to  make  out,  from  a  perusal  of 
the  mystic  characters  inscribed  on  the  palm  of  his  left  hand,  that  his 
life  was  to  be  strange  and  eventful,  that  he  was  to  become  a  revolu- 
tionary leader,  and  that  he  was  to  die  like  Wallace,  on  the  scaffold. 
Verse-writing,  prose-writing,  and  "a  third  sort  of  composition  which 
imitated  the  style  of  MacPherson's  'Ossian,'  "  were  engaged  in,  prob- 
ably with  fitfulness,  but  with  passionate  enjoyment. 

His  principal  amusement  at  this  period,  however,  was  one  of  which 
he  has  singularly  enough  omitted  mention  in  the  "Schools  and 
School-masters."  He  drew  the  map  of  a  country  in  the  sand,  and, 


330  HUGH     MILLER. 

having  collected  quantities  of  variously  colored  shells  from  the  beach, 
arranged  them  so  as  to  represent  its  inhabitants.  Appointing  himself 
king  of  the  miniature  community,  he  designed  its  towns,  roads, 
canals,  harbors,  and  other  public  works.  He  ruled  his  dominions  by 
every  different  form  of  government  with  which  he  was  acquainted, 
and  attacked  or  defended  them  by  every  stratagem  of  war  with  which 
books  or  his  uncles  had  made  him  familiar. 

In  his  fourteenth  year,  all  other  amusements  yielded  to  that  of 
heading  a  band  of  his  school-fellows,  with  whom,  in  the  harvest  va- 
cation, he  spent  every  day,  from  dawn  to  sunset,  in  or  about  a  deep 
cavern,  penetrating  one  of  the  steepest  precipices  which  skirt  the 
southern  base  of  the  hill  of  Cromarty.  One  of  the  brotherhood 
brought  a  pot,  another  a  pitcher;  the  shore  supplied  shell-fish,  the 
woods,  fuel ;  the  fields,  potatoes,  peas,  and  beans ;  and  so  they  went 
a-gypsying  the  long  summer  day. 

"The  time  not  employed  in  cooking,"  says  Miller  in  his  letter  to 
Principal  Baird,  "or  in  procuring  victuals,  we  spent  in  acting  little 
dramatic  pieces,  of  which  I  sketched  out  the  several  plans,  leaving 
the  dialogue  to  be  supplied  by  the  actors.  Robbers,  buccaneers, 
outlaws  of  every  description,  were  the  heroes  of  these  dramas.  They 
frequently,  despite  of  my  arrangements  to  the  contrary,  terminated 
in  skirmishes  of  a  rather  tragic  cast,  in  which,  with  our  spears  of 
elder  and  swords  of  hazel,  we  exchanged  pretty  severe  blows.  We  were 
sometimes  engaged,  too,  in  conflicts  with  other  boys,  in  which,  as 
became  a  leader,  I  distinguished  myself  by  a  cool,  yet  desperate 
courage.  Nor  was  I  entitled  to  the  rank  I  held  from  only  the  abili- 
ties which  I  displayed  in  framing  plays  and  in  fighting.  I  swam, 
climbed,  leaped,  and  wrestled  better  than  any  other  lad  of  my  years 
and  inches  in  the  place." 

With  schooling,  in  the  mean  time,  it  fared  as  ill  as  possible. 
Hugh  had  made  up  his  mind  not  to  learn,  and  he  could  neither  be 
coaxed  nor  beaten  out  of  his  determination.  Sooth  to  say,  he  had 
become  a  self-willed,  turbulent  lad,  and  the  haziness  of  conception  on 
the  subject  of  meum  and  tuum,  indicated  by  potato-pilfering  and 
orchard-robbing,  was  not  the  darkest  shade  which  we  have  to  bring 
into  harmony  at  this  period,  as  we  best  may,  with  the  idyllic  bright- 
ness of  his  boyhood.  In  the  letter  to  Principal  Baird  and  elsewhere, 
he  mentions  a  fact  or  two  which  he  omits  from  the  "Schools  and 
School-masters,"  but  which  can  not  be  withheld  consistently  with  bio- 
graphic veracity. 

Setting  his  school-master,  his  uncles,  and  his  mother  at  defiance, 
he  played  truant  three  weeks  out  of  four,  and  cast  off  every  trammel 
of  authority.  Distressed  and  alarmed,  his  relatives  tried  force.  The 
stubborn  will  and  intrepid  spirit  which  he  had  inherited  from  his 
father  were  roused  to  fiercer  opposition.  He  carried  about  with  him 
a  long  clasp-knife,  with  which  to  repel  any  attack  that  might  be  made 
upon  him  by  his  uncles.  They  next  had  recourse  to  expostulation. 


THE    BOY     PLAYS     TRUANT.  3JI 

They  represented  to  him,  with  affectionate  earnestness,  that  he  was 
losing  his  sole  chance  of  escaping  a  life  of  manual  labor,  and  urged 
that  the  possession  of  faculties  whose  right  use  would  enable  him  to 
rise  in  life,  made  it  the  more  disgraceful  in  him  to  sink  actually  below 
his  father's  station.  The  arguments  were  unanswerable,  and  Hugh 
seems  to  have  made  no  attempt  to  answer  them,  but  he  held  his  own 
course.  His  mother,  profoundly  afflicted  by  the  seeming  disappoint- 
ment of  her  hopes,  gave  him  up  altogether,  and  bestowed  her  affection 
on  his^wo  sisters.  In  the  winter  of  1816,  both  the  little  girls  died. 
Hugh  loved  them,  and  was  deeply  affected  when  the  music  of  their 
voices,  which  had  cheered  the  cottage  so  long,  passed  suddenly  away 
forever.  But  keener  far  was  the  pang  which  struck  to  his  heart  when 
he  overheard  his  mother  remarking  how  different  would  her  condition 
have  been,  had  it  pleased  Heaven  to  take  her  son  and  leave  one  of 
her  daughters.  "It  was  bitter  for  me,"  he  says,  "to  think,  and  yet 
I  could  not  think  otherwise,  that  she  had  cause  of  sorrow,  both  for 
those  whom  she  had  lost,  and  for  him  who  survived ;  and  I  would 
willingly  have  laid  down  my  life,  could  the  sacrifice  have  restored  to 
her  one  of  my  sisters."  A  noble  impulse,  and  sincere,  but  an  im- 
pulse merely;  in  a  few  weeks  he  was  again  at  the  head  of  his  band. 
"A  particular  way  of  thinking,"  he  remarks,  "a  peculiar  course  of 
reading,  a  singular  train  of  oral  narration,  had  concurred  from  the 
period  at  which  I  first  thought,  read,  or  listened,  in  giving  my  char- 
acter the  impress  it  then  bore,  and  it  was  not  in  the  power  of  de- 
tached accident  or  effort  to  effect  a  change."  He  had,  at  this  time, 
cast  all  religion  to  the  winds.  We  have  it  explicitly  in  his  own  words, 
that  he  became  an  atheist.  "A  boy-atheist,"  he  writes  to  Mr.  John 
Swanson  in  1828,  "is  surely  an  uncommon  character.  I  was  one  in 
reality ;  for,  possessed  of  a  strong  memory,  which  my  uncles  and  an 
early  taste  for  reading  had  stored  with  religious  sentiments  and  stories 
of  religious  men,  I  was  compelled,  for  the  sake  of  peace,  either  to  do 
that  which  was  right;  or,  by  denying  the  truth  of  the  Bible,  to  see 
every  action,  good  and  bad,  on  the  same  level."  His  atheism,  how- 
ever, was  a  mere  affectation — a  drossy  scum  on  the  surface  of  his 
nature,  with  no  real  basis  either  in  head  or  in  heart.  It  was  one  form 
of  his  rebelliousness  at  the  time.  He  was  obstinately  willful  and 
irreligious,  and  he  thought  it  bold  and  fine,  and  also  logically  con- 
sistent, to  call  himself  an  atheist. 

Three  school-masters  in  succession  had  an  opportunity  of  exercising 
their  talents  upon  Hugh,  and  in  each  case  the  failure  was  signal. 
His  schooling  ended  when  he  was  fifteen  in  a  pitched  battle  with  the 
dominie.  His  gains  from  ten  years  of  nominal  education  were  small. 
Penmanship,  clear  and  strong,  a  smattering  of  arithmetic,  spelling,  of 
which  a  boy  of  ten  might  be  ashamed,  syntax,  which  joined  substan- 
tives in  the  singular  to  verbs  in  the  plural,  and  vice  versd,  were  his 
scholastic  acquirements.  His  miscellaneous  reading,  however,  had 
been  extensive  ;  he  had  stored  up  a  vast  amount  of  information  in  a 


332  HUGH     MILLER. 

capacious  and  retentive  memory ;  he  composed  freely  in  prose  and 
verse,  though  there  is  hardly  any  sign  of  vitality  in  his  writings  of 
this  period,  except  the  delight  they  evince  in  the  work  of  composition. 
Before  the  close  of  the  day  on  which  his  conflict  with  the  school- 
master took  place,  he  had  avenged  himself  in  a  copy  of  satirical  verses, 
which,  to  say  the  least,  show  a  great  advance,  in  flexibility  and  in 
command  of  language,  on  those  in  which  he  first  recorded  the  ad- 
venture in  the  Doocot  Cave.  As  given  in  "  Schools  and  School- 
masters," they  are  much  improved,  the  epithets  freshened  and  bur- 
nished, and  the  best  line  in  the  whole, 

"  Nature's  born  fop,  a  saint  by  art," 

added.  I  find  the  lines  in  the  "Village  Observer,"  a  manuscript 
magazine,  in  Miller's  boyish  handwriting,  dated  February,  1820. 

Such  was  Hugh  Miller  at  the  time  he  left  school.  A  rugged,  proud, 
and  stiff-necked  lad,  impossible  to  drive,  and  difficult  to  lead,  his 
character  already  marked  with  strong  lines,  and  developing  from  with- 
in or  through  self-chosen  influences.  "  I  saw,"  said  Baxter,  of  Crom- 
well, "  that  what  he  learned  must  be  from  himself;"  and  the  obser- 
vation might  already  have  been  made  of  Hugh  Miller.  To  his  friends 
he  was  a  perplexity  and  offense  ;  to  his  uncles,  in  particular,  who 
knew  him  too  well,  and  were  too  sagacious  to  accept  the  off-hand 
theory  of  his  school-masters,  that  he  was  merely  a  stupid  and  bad  boy, 
he  must  have  seemed  a  mass  of  contradictions.  Intellectual  in  his 
wildest  play,  fond  of  books,  and  capable  of  discerning  excellence  from 
its  counterfeits  in  thought  and  style,  passionately  addicted  to  the  ob- 
servation of  nature,  and  forgetting  no  fact  he  once  ascertained,  how 
could  he  be  dull  in  the  ordinary  sense?  If,  again,  capacity  to  in- 
fluence one's  fellows  was  a  test  of  power,  could  it  be  said  that  he 
who  was  undisputed  sovereign  of  the  boys  of  the  place  was  the  stupid- 
est of  them  all  ?  A  dunce  who  from  childhood  had  entertained  his 
companions  with  tales  of  his  own  invention,  who  fitted  his  play-fellows 
with  dramatic  parts  by  way  of  pastime,  who  was  never  weary  when  his 
pen  was  in  his  hand,  who  possessed  more  literary  information  than 
any  one  twice  his  age  in  Cromarty,  was  a  phenomenon  new  to  the 
experience  of  Uncle  James  and  Uncle  Sandy.  It  was  a  puzzle  for 
them,  and  it  is  something  of  a  puzzle  for  us. 

Not  a  few — among  them  men  of  the  highest  eminence  as  thinkers 
and  writers — will  decide  with  impatient  emphasis  that  Hugh's  rebel- 
lion against  the  tyranny  of  grammar  was  the  genial  assertion  of  his 
native  force,  the  bursting  of  the  flower-pot  by  the  oak  sapling,  the 
most  propitious  thing  which  could  have  befallen  him.  There  is  much 
to  be  said  on  this  side  of  the  question.  The  boy  who  was  dux  of  the 
school  in  Cromarty  when  Hugh  Miller  was  dunce, — the  model  boy, 
who  was  the  delight  of  the  school-master,  and  who  carried  off  the 
highest  prizes  when  he  went  to  college, — the  boy  whom  the  story 
books  designate  for  a  Lord  Mayor's  coach  and  a  handsome  fortune, — 


CONTRADICTIONS     OF     CHARACTER.  333 

became  a  respectable  and  useful  minister  of  the  Church  of  Scotland, 
and  would  probably  never  have  been  heard  of  beyond  the  circle  of 
his  parishioners,  but  for  the  circumstance  of  his  having  been  mentioned 
in  the  works  of  his  friend,  the  dunce.  The  name  of  the  dux  has 
been  touched  by  the  pen  of  the  dunce,  and  is  likely  to  live  as  long  as 
the  English  language.  By  taking  the  bit  into  his  teeth,  leaping  the 
fences,  and  scouring  the  plain  at  his  own  wild  will,  Hugh  Miller  ob- 
tained that  freedom  for  his  faculties  which  is  necessary  to  all  vigorous 
growth,  to  all  beauty  and  capricious  grace  of  movement.  Had  he  re- 
ceived the  technical  training  of  a  college  professor,  would  college 
professors  have  said  that  they  would  give  their  hand  from  their  wrist 
for  the  curiosa  felicitas  of  his  style  ?  Take  young  creatures,  colts,  or 
lambs,  mew  them  up,  feed  and  fodder  them  on  the  most  approved 
scientific  principles, — you  will  have  them  sleek  and  fat,  but  will  there 
be  buoyancy  or  elastic  strength  in  their  limbs  ?  will  there  be  the  light 
of  health  and  joy  in  their  eyes?  will  not  the  "poor  things,"  like 
Tennyson's  hot-house  flowers,  "look  unhappy?"  The  law  of  free- 
dom applies  to  all  life,  human  as  well  as  animal,  and  the  finer  and 
fresher  the  mental  qualities,  the  greater  is  the  risk  that  constraint 
will  benumb  or  pervert  them.  The  grand  thing  to  be  secured  is 
mental  force,  and  it  is  possible  that  laborious  effort  to  attain  skill 
in  the  expression  of  force  may  draw  fatally  on  the  original  force 
itself.  The  faculties,  like  over-drilled  -soldiers,  may  have  no  strength 
left  to  play  their  part  in  life's  battle.  It  is  a  Shakespearean  opinion 
that 

"  Universal  plodding  prisons  up 

The  nimble  spirits  in  the  arteries  ; 

As  motion  and  long-during  action  tires 

The  sinewy  vigor  of  the  traveler." 

The  worst  possible  result  of  school  discipline  is  to  take  the  edge 
from  that  exultant  ardor  with  which  a  strong  youth  thinks  of  work, 
for  mind  or  for  body,  as  the  supreme  of  pleasures.  Hugh  Miller's 
freedom  was -not  unredeemed  trifling;  it  was  his  native  force  devel- 
oping in  its  own  way  and  seeking  its  own  nourishment.  If  he 
turned  from  the  Latin  Rudiments,  he  found  a  literature  on  which  he 
never  tired  to  expatiate, — a  literature  whose  teaching  he  accepted 
with  enthusiasm ;  a  literature  which  acquainted  him  with  foreign 
lands,  <ind  caused  him  to  thrill  at  the  deeds  of  brave  men  ;  a  litera- 
ture whose  inmost  spirit  he  vitally  assimilated  and  made  his  own.  If 
attention  to  his  grammatical  task  in  the  dingy  school-room  pained 
him,  his  powers  were  concentrated  in  highest  action  when  he  accom- 
panied Uncle  Sandy  in  his  researches  on  the  shore  at  ebb-tide,  or 
when,  in  solitary  rambles,  he  looked  carefully,  constantly,  lovingly 
into  the  face  of  nature.  Even  in  those  doings  with  his  brethren  of 
the  cave,  which  seemed  to  have  occasioned  his  relatives  most  alarm, 
he  was  acquiring  habits  of  self-possession,  courage,  fidelity,  reticence, 
which  are  not  always  imparted  by  artificial  training. 


334  HUGH     MILLER. 

And  let  us  not  forget  that  stubbornness  of  purpose,  inflexibility  of 
will,  the  unpardonable  sin  in  the  eyes  of  most  pedagogues,  is  after  all 
the  indispensable  basis  of  character  for  any  man  who  will  do  much. 
Acquire  it  as  he  may,  the  ability  to  go  forward  in  the  path  he  has 
chosen,  to  face  the  pelting  shower  and  the  scorching  sun,  to  do 
wholly,  heartily,  inflexibly,  what  he  deliberately  wills  to  do,  is  of 
sovereign  importance  for  a  man.  Quicquid  vult  valde  vult, — this  is 
the  diploma  of  masterhood  in  nature's  university;  "unstable  as 
water,  thou  shall  not  excel," — this  is  the  hopeless  doom.  "I  sowed 
flower-seed,"  wrote  John  Sterling,  respecting  his  management  of  his 
garden  in  boyhood,  "  and  then  turned  up  the  ground  again  and 
planted  potatoes,  and  then  rooted  out  the  potatoes  to  insert  acorns 
and  apple-pips,  and  at  last,  as  may  be  supposed,  reaped  neither  roses, 
nor  potatoes,  nor  oak-trees,  nor  apples."  The  words  are  an  epitome 
of  Sterling's  biography.  Hugh  Miller,  even  in  boyhood,  had  a  pur- 
pose, and  held  to  it,  firmly  resolved  that  he  would  not  have  his  limbs 
straightened  on  the  Procrustean  bed  prepared  for  him,  conscious  that 
he  was  neither  dunce  nor  reprobate,  but  growing  in  h:.s  own  way. 

It  must  be  *  carefully  noted  that  the  character  always  remained 
sound  in  the  vital  parts.  Of  meanness,  untruthfulne?.s,  cruelty,  avarice, 
he  showed  no  trace.  Had  his  sensual  passions  been  vehement  as 
those  of  Burns  or  Mirabeau,  the  probability  is  that  he  would  have 
fallen  into  debauchery ;  but  his  wildest  passion  was  a  passion  for  free- 
dom; his  dissipation  was  to  wander  in  the  wood  or  by  the  wave. 
Neither  morally  nor  intellectually  was  he,  at  any  time,  dissolute. 

And  yet  it  is  impossible  to  hide  from  ourselves  that  there  is  another 
side  to  all  this.  It  is  difficult  to  believe  that  insubordination,  turbu- 
lence, habitual  neglect  of  tasks,  with  which  a  sentiment  of  duty  is 
more  or  less  associated,  can  be  other  than  disadvantageous  to  the 
mind.  To  check  the  lawlessness  natural  to  man  ;  to  break  self-will 
to  the  yoke  ;  to  change  the  faculties  from  a  confused  barbarian  herd 
or  horde  into  a  disciplined  or  exercised  company  must  ever  be  an 
essential  part  of  the  training  of  youth.  Educated  hurftan  nature  is 
more  natural  than  uneducated.  Shakespeare  says  again  : 

"  Nature  is  made  better  by  no  mean 
But  nature  makes  that  mean ;  so,  o'er  that  art, 
Which,  you  say,  adds  to  nature,  is  an  art 
That  nature  makes." 

Does  not  this  throw  us  back  on  the  reflection  that  education  of 
the  highest  kind,  based  on  nature,  guided  by  nature,  yet  raising 
nature  to  heights  otherwise  unattainable,  is  not  to  be  easily  attained  f 
In  every  case  where  an  original  mind  is  concerned,  education  is  too 
subtle  a  process,  requiring  too  intimate  and  individual  a  communion 
of  soul  with  soul,  to  be  managed  by  the  rough,  common  methods.  A 
boy  of  genius  would  require  a  teacher  of  genius,  one  whose  percep- 
tions were  so  keen,  whose  sympathies  were  so  fine  and  true,  that  he 


WITHOUT     PARENTAL     AUTHORITY.  335 

could  understand  the  exceptional  mind,  obey  its  monitions  as  he  led 
i^  on,  apply  to  it  a  constraint  which  would  be  felt  as  gentleness,  and 
a  gentleness  which  would  tell  as  constraint.  Had  Hugh  Miller  found 
such  a  teacher,  the  advantage  to  himself  and  the  world  might  doubt- 
less have  been  great.  He  had  capacities  in  him  for  consummate 
scholarship,  an  exact  and  tenacious  memory,  great  attention,  great 
application,  true  taste,  and  clear  judgment.  Learning  could  never 
with  him  have  been  pedantry;  and.  it  is  indisputable,  that  the  man 
who  can  converse  with  the  ancients  in  their  own  tongues  commands 
a  wider  intellectual  horizon  than  the  man  who  knows  only  his  native 
language.  One  can  not  help  wishing  that  Hugh  Miller  had  seen 
Homer  himself  lead  out  Achilles  to  poise  a  javelin,  or  had  perceived 
how  different  a  person  is  the  brawney,  broad-shouldered,  highly  un- 
rhetorical  Ulysses  of  the  "  Odyssey,"  from  the  Ulysses  whom  Pope 
taught  to  look  and  speak  "  in  a  manner  worthy  of  the  times  of  civiliza- 
tion." Had  Hugh  Miller's  father  survived,  his  shrewd  sense  and 
peremptory  authority  might  have  given  a  new  color  to  the  school- 
ing of  the  boy;  and,  without  sacrificing  his  freedom,  Hugh  might 
have  taken  enough  along  with  him  to  go  to  college.  Once  at  a 
university,  the  ambition  of  scholarship  would  have  laid  hold  on  him, 
and  with  genius  unimpaired  and  materials  extended,  he  might,  in 
the  first  bloom  of  his  manhood,  have  taken  his  place  among  the 
foremost  intellectual  workers  of  his  time. 

There  is  another  consideration  which  lends  a  melancholy  emphasis 
to  these  regrets.  Hugh  Miller  came  of  a  long-lived,  strong-boned 
race,  and  we  have  learned  from  himself  that  he  was  the  most  ath- 
letic boy  of  his  years  in  Cromarty.  Had  he  proceeded  to  a  uni- 
versity, he  would  have  avoided  those  fifteen  years  in  the  quarry  and 
the  hewing-shed,  during  which  his  robust  constitution  was  shaken, 
and  the  seeds  of  ineradicable  disease  were  sown  in  his  frame.  In 
that  case,  the  tear  and  wear  of  the  severest  of  the  intellectual  pro- 
fessions, journalism,  though  combined  with  unremitting  attention  to 
science,  might  have  failed  to  prevent  his  attaining  a  green  old  age. 
In  his  letter  to  Baird,  he  refers  to  the  obscurity  and  hardship  of  his 
life  as  a  mason,  as  "punishment  for  his  early  carelessness."  But 
why  follow  these  speculations  further,  or  launch  into  the  vainest  and 
vaguest. of  all  philosophies,  the  plilosophy  of  what  might  have  been? 
By  natural  endowment  and  the  action  of  circumstances, — in  one 
word,  by  the  will  of  God, — Miller  was  fitted  for  the  work  appointed 
him,  and  this  is  all  we  require  to  know  or  can  know. 


WIDOWED     MOTHER     MARRIES — MILLER   A    BOY-EDITOR — A    LAD     OF    HIS 
OWN    WILL — BECOMES   APPRENTICE — HARDSHIPS — ALLEVIATIONS. 

Boy-life,  with  its  freshness  of  faculty,  its  exuberance  of  delights, 
its  opulence  of  wayward   force,  lies  behind    Hugh    Miller.      In   the 


33>  HUGH     MILLER. 

autumn  of  1819,  his  mother,  after  a  widowhood  of  fourteen  years, 
accepts  a  second  husband,  and  he  removes  with  her  to  the  house  of 
his  step-father.  "I  had  no  particular  objections  to  the  match,"  he 
writes  to  a  friend  a  few  years  later,  "but  you  may  be  certain  that  it 
gave  me  much  disgust  at  the  time."  It  compels  him  to  realize  the 
fact  that  the  world  has  changed  for  him,  and  that  duty  now  demands 
that  play  shall  cease  and  work  begin.  Half  a  year,  however,  glides 
away  pleasantly  enough — his  own  expression  is,  "very  agreeably" — 
in  the  house  of  his  step-father.  He  still  continues  those  sportings 
with  literature  which  have  from  infancy  been  among  his  choicest  en- 
joyments. I  have  before  me  Nos.  I.,  II.,  and  III.  of  a  tiny  magazine, 
written  in  Miller's  hand,  and  entitled,  "  The  Village  Observer,  or 
Monthly  MSS."  They  are"  dated  January,  Febmary,  March,  1820. 
Hugh  is  the  editor  and  principal  contributor.  It  is  in  February  of 
this  year  that  he  enters  on  his  apprenticeship,  and  the  March  number 
closes  the  series.*  The  pen  gives  place  to  the  hammer — for  a  time. 

These  "Village  Observers"  are  absolutely  authentic  documents  of 
Miller's  history  at  this  time,  and  enable  us  to  realize  the  circumstances 
of  his  life  before  any  tint  of  fancy,  or  association  from  the  pursuits  of 
a  subsequent  period,  had  softened  their  harsher  features.  In  the 
three  numbers  there  is  not  the  remotest  allusion  to  his  apprenticeship. 
This  may  be  imputed  to  the  disagreeableness  of  the  subject ;  but  it  is 
somewhat  remarkable  that  place  is  not  found  for  a  brief  description 
of  those  rare  and  beautiful  birds  discovered  by  him  in  the  quarry  on 
the  evening  of  his  first  day  of  labor,  and  delineated  with  enthusiastic 
minuteness  in  his  "Old  Red  Sandstone."  The  one  was  a  goldfinch, 
— very  uncommon  in  the  Highlands  of  Scotland, — with  "hood  of  ver- 
milion, and  wings  inlaid  with  gold  ;"  the  other,  a  bird  of  the  wood- 
pecker tribe,  "variegated  with  light  blue  and  a  grayish  yellow." 
Neither  does  Hugh,  in  the  capacity  of  village  observer,  give  us,  in  his 
March  number  for  1820,  any  hint  of  that  "  exquisite  pleasure  "  which, 
as  we  are  told  in  the  "  Old  Red  Sandstone,"  he  derived  from  con- 
templating the  adjacent  landscape  when  resting,  on  the  second  day, 
from  his  toil  at  the  hour  of  noon.  "All  the  workmen,"  he  says  in 
that  book,  "rested  at  midday,  and  I  went  to  enjoy  my  half  hour 
alone  on  a  mossy  knoll  in  the  neighboring  wood,  which  commands 
through  the  trees  a  wide  prospect  of  the  bay  and  the  opposite  shore. 
There  was  not  a  wrinkle  on  the  water,  nor  a  cloud  in  the  sky,  and 
the  branches  were  as  moveless  in  the  calm  as  if  they  had  been  traced 
on  canvas.  From  a  wooded  promontory,  that  stretched  half-way 
across  the  frith,  there  ascended  a  thin  column  of  smoke.  It  rose 
straight  as  the  line  of  a  plummet  for  more  than  a  thousand  yards,  and 
then,  on  reaching  a  thinner  stratum  of  air,  spread  out  equally  on  every 
side,  like  the  foliage  of  a  stately  tree.  Ben  Wyvis  rose  to  the  west, 
white  with  the  yet  unwasted  snows  of  winter,  and  as  sharply  defined 
in  the  clear  atmosphere  as  if  all  its  sunny  slopes  and  blue  retiring 
hollows  had  been  chiseled  in  marble.  They  reminded  me  of  the 


BEGINS    HIS     APPRENTICESHIP.  337 

pretty  French  story,  in  which  an  old  artist  is  described  as  tasking 
the  ingenuity  of  his  future  son-in  law,  by  giving  him,  as  a  subject  for 
his  pencil,  a  flower-piece,  composed  of  only  white  flowers,  of  which 
the  one-half  were  to  bear  their  proper  color,  the  other  half  a  deep 
purple  hue,  and  yet  all  be  perfectly  natural ;  and  how  the  young  man 
resolved  the  riddle  and  gained  his  mistress  by  introducing  a  transpar- 
ent purple  vase  into  the  picture,  and  making  the  light  pass  through 
it  on  the  flowers  that  were  drooping  over  the  edge.  I  returned  to 
the  quarry,  convinced  that  a  very \exquisite  pleasure  may  be  a  very 
cheap  one,  and  that  the  busiest  employments  may  afford  leisure  enough 
to  enjoy  it."  This  is  beautiful  writing  and  excellent  philosophy; 
but  there  is  not  a  word  in  any  degree  resembling  it,  whether  descrip- 
tive or  philosophical,  in  the  "  Monthly  MSS.,"  edited  by  Hugh  Miller 
at  the  time.  Nor  is  mention  made  of  the  ripple-marked  sandstone,  on 
beholding  which,  on  the  same  day,  he  "felt  as  completely  at  fault  as 
Robinson  Crusoe  did  on  his  discovering  the  print  of  the  man's  foot 
on  the  sand." 

What  is,  perhaps,  still  more  surprising,  there  is  a  similar  absence  of 
reference  to  ornithological,  geological,  or  aesthetic  alleviations  of  his 
early  toil  in  the  account  of  this  period,  written  by  him  ten  years  sub- 
sequently for  Principal  Baird.  "My  first  six  months  of  labor,"  he 
writes  to  Baird  in  1829,  "presented  only  a  series  of  disasters.  I  was, 
at  the  time,  of  a  slender  make  and  weak  constitution  ;  and  I  soon  found 
I  was  ill-fitted  for  such  employments  as  the  trundling  of  loaded  wheel- 
barrows over  a  plank,  or  the  raising  of  huge  blocks  of  stone  out  of  a 
quarry.  My  hands  were  soon  fretted  into  large  blisters,  my  breast 
became  the  seat  of  a  dull,  oppressive  pain,  and  I  was  much  distressed, 
after  exertion  more  than  usually  violent,  by  an  irregular  motion  of  my 
heart.  My  spirits  were  almost  always  miserably  low  ;  and  I  was  so 
wrapped  up  in  a  wretched,  apathetic  absence  of  mind,  that  I  have 
wrought  for  whole  hours  together  with  scarcely  a  thought  of  what  I 
was  doing  myself,  and  scarcely  conscious  of  what  others  were  doing 
around  me." 

Both  these  narratives  may  be  strictly  consistent  with  fact.  In 
that  case  they  afford  a  striking  illustration  of  Miller's  own  remark, 
that  two  varying  descriptions  may  be  given  by  the  same  person  of  the 
same  events,  and  yet  both  be  veracious.  He  said  nothing,  in  the 
earlier  documents,  of  the  rare  birds,  the  beautiful  landscape,  the 
ripple-marked  stone,  because  it  was  not  until  afterwards  that  he  re- 
garded them  as  of  importance^  He  mentally  associated  with  his  first 
years  of  labor  feelings  which  belonged  to  a  later  time.  He  was  an 
observer  from  infancy,  and  his  observations  gave  him  joy;  his  memory 
became  stored  with  facts ;  but  not  until  he  studied  geology  did  he 
apprehend  that  these  facts  had  any  scientific  value.  When  geology 
took  possession  of  Miller,  the  possession  was  complete.  He  thought, 
talked,  wrote  of  geology  ;  his  leading  articles,  his  discussions  of  polit- 
ical and  religious  questions,  were  full  of  it.  From  the  boyish  maga- 

22 


338  HUGH    MILLER. 

zines  he  edited,  it  is  absent ;  from  the  poems  which  he  composed  in 
boyhood  and  youth,  it  is  absent;  in  the  letters  which  he  wrote  to  his 
favorite  associates,  of  which  we  have  an  uninterrupted  series,  begin- 
ning a  year  or  two  later  than  the  time  at  which  we  have  arrived,  we 
look  for  it  in  vain ;  and  in  the  narrative  composed  at  the  request  of 
Baird,  there  is  not  one  throb  of  scientific  enthusiasm.  It  was,  I 
believe,  at  a  time  much  later  than  that  of  his  apprenticeship  that 
Hugh  Miller,  though  his  eye  had  always  beamed  with  delight  when  it 
rested  on  an  object  of  beauty,  learned  to  take  a  geological  interest  in 
the  ammonite,  "  graceful  in  its  curves  as  those  of  the  Ionic  volute, 
'and  greatly  more  delicate  in  its  sculpturing,"  or  to  read,  hour  after 
hour,  with  scientific  curiosity,  in  the  "  marvelous  library  of  the 
Scotch  Lias." 

Boys  and  girls  are  moralists  and  politicians  before  they  care  about 
science. 

Perhaps  the  most  significant  trait  which  the  last  number  of  the 
"  Village  Observer  "  presents  of  Hugh  is  this  from  a  "  Journal  of  the 
Week:"  "Wrote  a  moral  essay  upon  the  advantages  of  industry, 
but  tore  it  in  pieces  on  considering  that  its  author  was  one  of  the 
most  indolent  personages  on  earth — did  nothing,  but  still  determined 
on  reform." 

Farewell,  then,  to  the  busy  idleness  of  verse-making  and  magazine- 
editing.  In  the  last  days  of  February,  Miller  still  has  leisure  to  put 
together  the  number  for  March,  but  no  other  nurnber  follows.  He 
binds  himself  verbally,  but  by  no  legal  instrument,  apprentice  for 
three  years  to  "old  David  Wright,"  stone-mason,  brother-in-law  of 
his  mother.  Old  David  was  something  of  a  character. 

Miller's  uncles,  who  had  taken  the  right  measure  of  his  capacity, 
and  who  had  loved  and  watched  over  him  as  a  son,  have  done  their 
utmost  to  oppose  this  decision.  Their  sure  instinct  tells  them  that 
the  place  of  this  recruit  is  not  in  the  ranks ;  they  have  earnestly 
wished  to  see  him  enrolled  among  the  brain-workers  of  the  commu- 
nity ;  and,  like  all  Scottish  peasants  of  the  old  historic  type,  they  re- 
gard the  ministers  of  the  Church  of  Christ  as  taking  precedence  of  all 
others  in  the  intellectual  aristocracy.  They  have  told  him  that  if  he 
will  only  return  to  his  books,  and  prepare  for  college,  their  home  and 
their  savings  will  be  at  his  command.  They  have  tried  to  appeal  to 
his  pride  and  desire  for  advancement.  Uncle  James  has  gone  the 
length  of  hinting  with  some  bitterness  that,  if  he  has  found  books  too 
hard  for  him,  he  may  find  labor  harder  still,  and  may  turn  from  the 
latter  with  the  same  inconstancy  with  which  he  turned  from  the  former. 
But  Hugh,  as  James  Wright  knows  and  has  said,  is  "  a  lad  of  his  own 
will,"  and  his  mind  is  made  up.  As  for  his  declinature  of  the  clerical 
profession,  he  satisfies  both  himself  and  Uncle  James  on  that  head, 
by  the  consideration  that  he  has  no  call  to  the  sacred  office.  The 
feeling  of  independence,  strong  in  Hugh  Miller  as  in  Robert  Burns, 
rebels  against  the  idea  of  his  going  to  college,  dependent  on  the  bounty 


HE     DECLARES     FOR     STONE    AND    LIME.  339 

of  relatives.  Strangely  enough,  too,  that  passion  for  literature, 
whether  in  the  form  of  reading  or  of  writing,  which  had  marked  him 
from  his  childhood  as  the  predestined  author,  drove  him  to  the  quarry. 
The  conception  of  a  literary  career  founded  upon  a  complete  Univer- 
sity education,  and  commencing  with  the  instruments  and  further- 
ances which  ages  have  accumulated,  had  not  dawned  upon  his  mind. 
Literature  had  been  to  him  a  coy  maiden,  radiant,  fascinating,  but 
free  and  light-winged  as  a  forest  bird,  and  he  shrank  from  formal 
irreversible  espousals.  He  has  observed  that  "Cousin  George,"  a 
mason,  though  hard-worked  during  several  months  in  the  year,  has  the 
months  of  winter  to  himself.  This  decides  him  in  favor  of  the  trade 
of  mason.  In  winter  and  early  spring  he  will  return  to  his  beloved 
Muse,  to  dally  with  her  in  a  life-long  courtship ;  or,  if  it  is  to  end  in 
marriage,  —  for  the  thought  of  rising  by  literature  does  lurk,  deep 
hidden,  in  his  heart, — she  will  take  his  hand  as  a  beneficent  princess 
takes  that  of  a  knightly  though  low-born  suitor,  and  lift  him  at  once 
to  fame  and  fortune.  Uncle  James's  remark  on  the  probability  of  his 
failing  at  labor  as  he  has  failed  at  study,  he  'takes  note  of;  it  may  be 
pleasant  to  teach  Uncle  James  that  he  can  will  to  work  as  well  as  will 
to  play,  and  that,  though  others  have  lost  the  mastership  of  him,  he 
has  not  lost  mastership  of  himself.  Enough ;  he  declares  unalterably 
for  stone  and  lime,  and  becomes  apprentice  to  his  uncle,  old  David 
Wright.  The  engagement  is  understood  to  be  for  three  years.  In 
the  chill  February  morning  of  1820,  he  takes  his  way  to  the  quarry. 

Relieved  or  not  relieved  by  touches  of  romance,  Hugh  Miller's  first 
season  of  labor  proves  to  be  one  of  sternest  hardship,  putting  to  the 
strain  his  whole  faculty  of  endurance.  The  dark  side  is  given  in  all 
his  contemporary  or  nearly  contemporary  renderings  of  the  subject ; 
the  lights  in  the  picture  come  out  only  when  it  is  seen  through  the 
vista  of  years.  Still  quite  a  boy,  slender  and  loose-jointed,  uninter- 
mitted  toil  presses  hard  on  him  both  in  mind  and  body.  His  spirits 
fail.  He  is  constantly  in  pain,  often  prostrated  by  sickness.  He 
shows  at  first  no  quickness  or  dexterity  in  acquiring  his  trade,  and  is 
the  most  awkward  of  the  apprentices.  Uncle  David  begins  to  be  of 
opinion  that  this  incomprehensible  compound  of  genius  and  dunce  is 
incapable  of  attaining  the  skill  of  an  ordinary  mechanic.  The  lad  is 
sorely  tempted  to  become  a  dram-drinker.  We  have  two  accounts 
of  his  triumph  over  this  temptation,  the  one  harshly  realistic,  of  date 
1829,  the  other  more  picturesque,  dated  1853. 

"It  is  probable,"  he  writes,  "that  the  want  of  money  alone  pre- 
vented me  from  indulging,  at  this  period,  in  the  low  vice  of  dram- 
drinking."  He  thus  describes  the  affair  in  "My  Schools  and 
School-masters:"  "In  laying  down  the  foundation-stone  of  one  of 
the  larger  houses  built  this  year  by  Uncle  David  and  his  partner,  the 
workmen  had  a  royal  'founding-pint,'  and  two  whole  glasses  of  the 
whisky  came  to  my  share.  A  full-grown  man  would  not  have 
deemed  a  gill  of  usquebaugh  an  overdose,  but  it  was  considerably  too 


340  HUGH    MILLER. 

much  for  me ;  and  when  the  party  broke  up,  and  I  got  home  to  my 
books,  I  found,  as  I  opened  the  pages  of  a  favorite  author,  the  letters 
dancing  before  my  eyes,  and  that  I  could  no  longer  master  the  sense. 
I  have  the  volume  at  present  before  me, — a  small  edition  of  the 
Essays  of  Bacon,  a  good  deal  worn  at  the  corners  by  the  friction  of 
my  pocket ;  for  of  Bacon  I  never  tired.  The  condition  into  which 
I  had  brought  myself  was,  I  felt,  one  of  degradation.  I  had  sunk,  by 
my  own  act,  for  the  time,  to  a  lower  level  of  intelligence  than  that 
on  which  it  was  my  privilege  to  be  placed ;  and  though  the  state  could 
have  been  no  very  favorable  one  for  forming  a  resolution,  I  in  that 
hour  determined  that  I  should  never  again  sacrifice  my  capacity  of 
intellectual  enjoyment  to  a  drinking  usage ;  and,  with  God's  help,  I 
was  enabled  to  hold  by  the  determination."  It  was,  therefore,  not 
"the  want  of  money  alone"  which  prevented  him  from  becoming  a 
tippler ;  but  we  may  be  permitted  to  think  that  this  little  circum- 
stance was  a  valuable  auxiliary  to  Bacon. 

Soon,  also,  there  came  alleviations  of  his  hardship  more  practical 
than  those  derived  from  geological  discovery  and  admiration  of  High- 
land scenery.  As  he  does  not  sink  under  exertion,  his  physical 
stamina  gradually  asserts  itself,  and  makes  labor  a  source  of  strength. 
It  was  a  characteristic  of  Miller  during  life,  that  he  progressed  in  any 
pursuit  not  by  little  and  little,  but  by  leaps.  His  master  and  fellow- 
workmen,  who,  during  the  first  months  of  his  apprenticeship,  have 
regarded  him  as  too  awkward  to  learn  his  trade,  are  suddenly  aston- 
ished to  find  him  one  of  the  most  expert  hewers  in  the  squad.  "So 
flattered  was  my  vanity,"  he  writes,  "  by  the  respect  which  they  paid 
me  on  this  account,  and  such  satisfaction  did  I  derive  from  emulating 
them  in  what  they  confessed  the  better  department  of  their  profession, 
that  the  coming  winter,  to  which,  a  few  weeks  before,  I  had  looked 
forward  as  good  men  do  to  the  pleasures  of  another  state  of  existence, 
was  no  longer  an  object  of  desire." 

To  throw  down  the  tools,  however,  could  not  but  be  a  relief,  and 
the  leisure  of  winter  is  hailed  with  satisfaction.  After  a  pedestrian 
journey  to  Strath-Carron,  in  company  with  his  cousin,  George  Munro, 
in  the  course  of  which  he  makes  some  observations,  not  of  an  impor- 
tant character,  on  an  old  Scotch  forest  of  native  pine,  he  returns  to 
Cromarty.  The  education  of  toil  has  already  done  more  for  him 
than  any  previous  education,  and  the  unruly  boy  has  become  a 
thoughtful,  docile  young  man. 


EARLY    FRIENDSHIPS — SWANSON,     FINLAY,    ROSS PLEASURES    OF    THE 

IMAGINATION  —  TWO    OF    NATURE'S    GENTLEMEN. 

From  his  early  boyhood  Miller  had  given  proof  of  the  blended  faith- 
fulness and  tenderness  of  his  nature  by  the  affection  with  which  he  clung 
to  one  or  two  chosen  friends.  His  friendship  with  John  Swanson, 


HIS    BOSOM    FRIEND.  341 

him  of  the  Doocot  cave,  already  warm  and  confidential  when  Hugh 
was  twelve  and  John  ten,  continued  in  freshness  and  intensity  until 
the  hour  of  Miller's  death.  Finlay,  whom  he  describes  as  a  gentle- 
spirited  boy,  who  loved  to  share  with  him  the  solitude  of  the  caves 
by  moonlight,  seems  to  have  held  the  first  place  in  his  regard  in  the 
period  immediately  preceding  his  apprenticeship. 

By  far  the  most  remarkable,  however,  of  these  early  friends  of  Miller 
was  William  Ross.  There  are  many  memorials  of  Ross  in  Miller's 
papers,  and  I  can  perceive  that  the  account  given  of  him  in  the 
"Schools  and  School-masters"  is  not  too  highly  colored.  The  child 
of  parents  crushed  into  the  dust  by  poverty,  his  father  half  imbecile, 
his  mother  feeble  in  health  and  broken-spirited,  his  own  energies  de- 
pressed by  perpetual  sickness,  he  had  received  from  capricious  nature 
a  mental  organization  of  exquisite  delicacy,  enriched  with  fine  and 
tender  elements.  Modest,  gentle,  affectionate;  tremulously  alive 
to  the  feelings  and  claims  of  others ;  depreciating  every  thing  in  him- 
self, exalting  every  capacity  and  accomplishment  of  one  he  loved ; 
unaffectedly  religious,  and  unmoved  by  utmost  calamity  from  simple 
faith  in  a  divine  care  and  a  heavenly  love, — William  Ross  was  the 
very  ideal  of  a  bosom  friend.  There  is  a  letter  dated  Nigg,  loth 
July,  1821,  from  Ross  to  Miller,  which  will  serve  to  introduce  him  to 
the  reader.  He  had  just  lost  by  death  one  of  the  very  few  who  had 
been  kind  to  him  in  his  boyhood. 

"  Where,  think  you,  have  I  sitten  down  to  write  you?  In  my  grand- 
mother's room,  and  before  the  very  table  at  which  I  once  used  to  read 
(in  happier  days)  a  chapter  in  the  big  old  Bible,  and  sing  a  psalm  every 
night  and  morning.  I  can  not  tell  you  how  I  feel.  The  remembrance 
of  the  innocence  and  happiness  of  the  days  that  are  gone  has  softened 
my  heart,  indifferent  as  it  has  become  to  the  pure  feelings  of  devotion. 
I  have  done  reading  just  now  the  three  last  chapters  of  the  Gospel 
of  St.  John,  and  with  the  history  of  the  sufferings  of  our  Savior  I 
was  never  more  affected.  I  feel  my  soul  raised  above  the  things  of 
this  world  in  the  contemplation  of  the  truly  godlike  patience  with 
which,  in  his  human  nature,  he  bore  the  terrible  evils  which  were 
inflicted  on  him,  and  his  resignation  to  the  will  of  his  heavenly 
Father. 

"Oh  that  I  could  fix  the  present  mood,  and  render  it  permanent ! 
What  a  world  of  happiness  dwells  in  the  bosom  of  the  devout  man ; 
amid  all  the  storms  of  adversity  he  has  a  fortress  and  a  God.  His 
hopes  repose  on  that  Providence  who  has  the  disposal  Of  all  events; 
not  knowing  himself  what  is  good  or  evil  of  the  things  of  this  life, 
he  does  his  duty,  and  trusts  to  his  Father  for  the  rest.  How  far  dif- 
ferent is  God  from  man  !  If  we  ask  His  favor  he  will  not  withhold  it. 
'  To  the  poor  he  is  a  friend,  and  he  will  not  hide  his  face  from  the 
needy.'  I  find  we  must  love  Him  before  we  can  truly  love  one  an- 
other. I  see  this  love  as  the  master-principle — as  the  purifier  of  the 
heart ;  it  warms  our  affections  to  our  friends,  makes  us  grateful  to  our 


342  HUGH    MILLER. 

benefactors,  and  forgiving  to  our  enemies.  Oh,  my  dear  Miller,  bear 
with  me  now  as  you  have  often  done  before  !  I  am  weak  as  a  child. 

"  My  mind  is  filled  with  recollections  of  the  joys  that  are  gone, 
and  the  dear  sainted  friend  that  has  left  me.  I  went  to  her  house, 
but  I  did  not  see  her  waiting  my  approach,  her  feet  did  not  sound  in 
the  passage  as  I  entered  the  door ;  '  my  dear  Willie'  was  not  heard 
on  my  unexpected  appearance.  The  good  hand  that  once  nursed  me 
was  not  stretched  out  with  an  air  of  tender  affection  towards  me.  I 
looked  to  the  place  where  she  used  to  sit,  but  she  was  not  there;  in 
her  bodily  shape  I  did  not  behold  her,  yet  her  image  was  before  me, 
and  all  the  good  she  did  me  was  present  in  my  view.  What  a  va- 
cancy is  here !  What  a  change  has  death  made  to  me !  But  I  must 
have  done;  the  last  light  of  evening  is  taking  its  leave.  Good-by." 

The  difference  between  the  character  of  Miller,  who  met  every  check 
and  impulse  with  pugnacity,  and  that  of  Ross,  whose  gentleness  was 
feminine,  and  who  could  not  bear  to  be  thought  ill  of  even  by  those 
who  acted  to  him  meanly  and  unkindly,  tended  probably  to  cement 
their  friendship.  The  proceedings  of  Ross  on  completing  his  appren- 
ticeship, and  commencing  practice  as  a  house- painter  on  his  own  ac- 
count, illustrate,  in  a  touching  manner,  his  simplicity  and  kindliness. 
The  master  who  had  enjoyed  his  services  for  five  years — and  valuable 
services  they  were,  for  William's  talent  in  his  vocation  was  eminent — 
seems  to  have  quite  cast  him  off  when  his  term  expired.  He  writes  to 
Miller : 

"  Want  stared  me  in  the  face ;  and,  having  determined  not  to  be  a 
burden  to  any,  I  meant  to  leave,  if  I  possibly  could,  the  place ;  for, 
though  I  had  no  prospect  of  employment,  I  deemed  it  better  to 
starve  among  strangers  (if  nothing  else  awaited  me)  than  in  this  coun- 
try  On  the  Tuesday  after  you  had  left  me  I  waited  on 

Mr.  ,  and  told  him  what  I  would  do  if  he  would  trust  me.  He 

would  not ;  and  after  so  downright  a  refusal  you  can  not  imagine  the 
perturbed  state  of  my  mind.  What  hurt  me  most  was  that  he  should 

have  doubted  my  probity.  I  then  went  straight  to  Mr.  ,  to  see 

what  he  thought  of  me  ;  for,  after  the  first  shock  was  over,  I  was  indif- 
ferent to  what  I  might  meet  with.  He  was  not  quite  so  direct  with 
me,  but  what  he  said  amounted  to  a.  refusal  too.  Before  evening  I 
had  paid  them  both,  which  so  reduced  my  slender  finances  that  I  could 
go  nowhere,  and  here,  without  money  or  employment,  I  could  not 
well  stay.  The  friend  who  would  have  sympathized  with  me  was 
gone;  and  perhaps  'twas  better  that  he  was.  The  way  in  which  I 
have  been  treated  could  not  but  have  hurt  you. 

"  Now  that  you  have  my  worst  news,  I  will  tell  you  better.  Colonel 

G sent  for  me  to  refresh  the  walls  of  his  dining-room,  and  gave 

me  55.  when  I  had  done.  Soon  after,  I  saw  Mr. ,  who  asked  me 

whether  I  was  employed,  and  told  me,  on  replying  in  the  negative, 

that  his  brother-in-law,  Mr.  ,  had  bought  paint  at  London,  and 

was  looking  out  for  some  one  to  paint  his  house  for  him  by  the  day. 


ROSS'S     ESTIMATE    OF    HIS    ABILITY.  343 

I  would  do  the  work  most  readily,  I  said,  but  as  my  old  master  had 
thought  of  getting  it  for  himself,  I  could  not  think  of  interfering. 
He  assured  me,  however,  that  that  was  out  of  the  question,  as  it  was 

owing  to  the  exorbitancy  of  my  master's  estimate  that  Mr.  had 

procured  the  materials  for  himself.  I  accordingly  went  and  settled 

with  Mr.  for  the  work  at  33.  per  day.  This  will  make  a  sad 

change,  I  am  afraid,  in  all  I  enjoyed  of  the  favorable  opinion  of  my 
master;  but  I  can't  help  it." 

Was  there  not  a  delicacy  of  honor  in  the  reluctance  of  the  lad, 
whom  starvation  actually  stared  in  the  face,  to  accept  work  which  his 
old  master  had  "  thought  of  getting,"  such  as  is  rarely  met  with  in 
any  rank  of  life  ?  In  a  letter  written  shortly  afterwards,  we  have  this 
note  of  that  master's  conduct:  "I  came  here  to  furnish  brushes  for 
the  work,  but  my  master  would  sell  me  none."  Brushes,  however, 
were  obtained,  and  he  proceeds:  "I  am  happier  in  my  mind  than 
usual.  There  are  glimpses  of  sunshine  breaking  out  upon  me,  and  a 
less  troubled  sky  overhead.  Oh,  how  grateful  ought  I  to  be  to  that 
bounteous  Benefactor  who  knows  our  wants,  and  can  and  will  supply 
them !  I  hardly  know,  my  dear  Miller,  how  to  conclude.  I  trust  I 
am  grateful  to  Him  for  you  too."  It  must  have  been  a  sweetly  toned 
nature  which  unkindness  so  bitter  did  not  provoke  to  one  angry  word, 
and  which  was  so  easily  stimulated  to  childlike  gladness  and  to  pious 
gratitude.  In  the  deep  forest,  one  beam  penetrates  to  the  wounded 
bird,  and  it  breaks  on  the  instant  into  song. 

Such  was  the  young  man  with  whom  Miller  spent  the  greater  part 
of  his  time  on  being  relieved  from  the  labors  of  his  first  year  of  ap- 
prenticeship. He  read  his  poems  to  Ross,  and  showed  him  his 
drawings.  Hugh  had  formed  a  high  estimate  of  both,  and  the  under- 
current of  critical  severity  which  invariably  accompanied  his  friend's 
applause,  though  not  strong  enough  to  damp  his  ardor,  was  useful  in 
giving  precision  to  his  ideas  of  himself.  Ross  had  penetration  enough 
to  discern  that  a  certain  imaginative  glow,  which  threw  out  objects, 
as  it  were,  in  aerial  perspective,  and  cast  over  them  a  pleasing  light 
of  fancy  or  association,  belonged  to  Miller.  In  their  walks  in  the 
wood  or  by  the  shore,  he  encouraged  Hugh  to  cultivate  literature,  ap- 
plauding "  the  wild  vigor  of  his  imagination,"  and  hinting  that  his 
word -pictures  of  the  moment  revealed  more  of  poetical  genius  than 
the  formal  productions  either  of  his  pencil  or  his  pen. 

Ross's  advice  to  Miller  on  the  whole  was  as  follows :  "  Your  drawings 
have  but  little  merit,  nor  can  I  regard  them  even  as  works  of 
promise ;  neither  by  any  means  do  you  write  good  verses.  And  why, 
do  you  think,  do  I  tell  you  so  ?  Only  to  direct  your  studies  to  their 
proper  object.  You  draw  ill,  because  nature  never  intended  that  you 
should  do  otherwise  ;  whereas  you  write  ill,  only  because  you  write 
seldom.  You  are  possessed  of  talents  which,  with  due  culture,  will 
enable  you  to  attain  no  common  command  of  the  pen ;  for  you  are 
an  original  thinker,  your  mind  is  richly  imbued  with  poetry,  and, 


344  HUGH     MILLER. 

though  devoid  of  a  musical  ear,  you  have,  from  nature,  something 
much  better, — that  perception  of  the  harmonies  of  language  which  is 
essential  to  the  formation  of  a  good  and  elegant  style."  So  far  as  I 
can  judge,  no  critic  could  have  more  correctly  estimated  Miller's 
capacity  at  the  time,  or  given  him  better  advice. 

A  spectator,  observing  these  lads,  the  one  apprenticed  to  a  mason, 
the  other  to  a  house-painter,  would  hardly  have  guessed  the  nature 
of  their  conversation.  Had  they  been  youths  of  aristocratic  birth 
or  university  distinction,  could  their  intercourse  have  been  more 
completely  that  of  gentlemen  ?  We  may  note  how  steadily  Hugh 
pushes  forward  what,  without  much  conscious  resolving  on  the  sub- 
ject, has  become  the  purpose  of  his  life, — self-culture.  With  quiet 
persistence,  undistracted  by  the  commencement  of  lifelong  toil  as  a 
mason,  he  cherishes  the  ambition  of  maturing  his  powers  of  thought 
and  expression.  Attesting,  also,  the  radical  nobleness  of  his  charac- 
ter, and  the  high  tone  of  the  society  in  which  he  had  lived,  this 
circumstance  is  to  be  noted, — that  the  ambition  of  making  money 
never  seized  him.  The  big  bells  of  Babylon  dinning  into  all  young 
ears,  never  more  loudly  than  in  our  age,  their  invitations  to  make 
fortunes,  had  no  persuasion  for  him.  To  extend  the  empire  of  his 
mind,  to  enrich  and  beautify  the  garden  of  his  soul,  this  was  what 
presented  itself  as  a  supreme  object  of  ambition  to  our  Scottish  boy 
of  eighteen,  with  a  mallet  in  his  hand. 


CONON-SIDE — LIFE   IN  THE    BARRACK — WANDERINGS    IN    THE     WOODS 

*     SCENERY   OF   CONON-SIDE — AT   HOME   AGAIN. 

In  the  spring  of  1821,  Miller  resumed  his  labors.  In  the  latter 
end  of  May,  his  master  had  finished  the  work  contracted  for  in  the 
district  of  Cromarty,  and,  as  no  more  contracts  were  to  be  had,  was 
compelled  to  descend  from  the  position  of  master  and  seek  employment 
as  journeyman.  The  apprentice  he  had  taken  at  the  same  time  with 
Miller  seized  the  opportunity  of  regaining  his  freedom,  and  setting 
up  as  journeyman  on  his  own  account ;  and  one  might  have  thought 
that  the  willful,  headstrong  lad,  who  had  set  his  uncles  and  his 
school-masters  at  defiance,  would  have  followed  this  example.  But 
Hugh  was  no  longer  the  turbulent  school-boy  of  sixteen,  and  among 
the  qualities  which  had  ripened  in  the  wholesome  atmosphere  of 
labor  was  a  profound  sense  of  justice.  He  continued  to  serve  old 
David  Wright,  and  proceeded  with  him  to  the  banks  of  the  Conon. 

He  is  now,  for  the  first  time,  introduced  to  the  barrack  or  bothy 
life  of  a  squad  of  masons.  A  description  of  the  barrack,  and  the 
scene  it  presented  on  his  first  becoming  one  of  its  inmates,  occurs  in 
his  letter  to  Baird.  "I  followed,"  he  writes,  "the  horde  into  their 
barrack.  It  consisted  of  one  large  apartment.  Along  the  wall,  and 
across  one  of  the  gables,  there  was  a  range  of  beds,  rudely  con- 


THE     BARRACK.  345 

strutted  of  outside  slab  deals,  and  filled  with  straw,  which  bristled 
from  beneath  the  blankets  and  from  between  the  crevices  of  the 
frames  in  a  manner  much  less  neat  than  picturesque.  At  each  bed- 
side there  were  two  chests,  which  served  not  only  the  purpose  origi- 
nally intended,  but  also  for  chairs  and  tables.  Suspended  by  ropes 
from  the  rafters  above,  there  hung,  at  the  height  of  a  man's  head 
from  the  ground,  several  bags  filled  with  oatmeal,  which  by  this  con- 
trivance was  secured  from  the  rats,  with  which  the  place  was  infested. 
Along  the  gable  furthest  removed  from  the  door  there  was  a  huge 
wood  fire ;  above  it  there  were  hung  several  small  pots,  enveloped  in 
smoke,  which,  for  lack  of  proper  vent,  after  filling  the  whole  barrack, 
escaped  by  the  door.  Before  the  fire  there  was  a  row  of  stones,  each 
of  which  supported  an  oaten  cake.  The  inmates,  who  exceeded 
twenty,  had  disposed  of  themselves  in  every  possible  manner.  Some 
were  lounging  in  the  beds,  others  were  seated  on  the  chests.  Two  of 
them  were  dancing  on  the  floor  to  the  whistling  of  a  third.  There 
was  one  employed  in  baking,  another  in  making  ready  the  bread. 
The  chaos  of  sounds  which  reigned  among  them  was  much  more  com- 
plete than  that  which  appalled  their  prototypes,  the  builders  of  Babel. 
There  was  the  gabbling  of  Saxon,  the  sputtering  of  Gaelic,  the  hum- 
ming of  church  music,  the  whistling  of  the  musician,  and  the  stamp- 
ing of  the  dancers.  Three  of  the  pots  on  the  fire  began  to  boil 
together,  and  there  was  a  cry  for  the  cook.  He  came  rushing  for- 
ward, pushed  the  man  engaged  in  baking  from  out  his  way  with 
one  hand,  and  drawing  the  seat  from  under  the  one  employed  in 
making  ready  the  bread  with  the  other,  he  began  to  shout  out,  so  as 
to  drown  their  united  voices,  for  meal  and  salt.  Both  were  brought 
him,  and  in  a  few  minutes  he  had  completed  his  task." 

Wild  companions,  a  wild  lodging,  and  wild  mode  of  life ;  nor  can 
much  bodily  comfort  be  associated  with  the  idea  of  a  diet  whose 
sole  variation  is  from  oatmeal  in  porridge  to  oatmeal  in  cakes ;  but 
Miller  is  not  unhappy.  He  is  now  recognized  as  a  good  workman, 
and  his  frame  is  more  capable  of  labor  than  in  the  previous  season. 
His  spirit  is  buoyant,  and  full  of  gay,  hopeful  humor ;  and  his 
readiness  to  take  and  return  a  jest,  together  with  his  sprightliness 
and  his  obliging  disposition,  secure  him  the  good-will  of  his  com- 
panions. On  the  long  summer  evenings,  when  work  is  over,  he  can 
wander  about  the  district,  climbing  its  ridges  of  hill,  exploring  its 
ruins  and  natural  curiosities,  diving  into  the  recesses  of  its  woods, 
and  following  the  course  of  its  streams.  He  is  still  boy  enough  to 
enjoy  the  raspberries  which  grow  in  the  woods,  and  the  poetry  of 
his  nature  finds  aliment  in  the  new  and  picturesque  aspects  of  hill 
and  plain  which  every  eminence  reveals  to  him. 

The  gentler  aspects  of  the  scenery  near  appear  to  have  attracted 
Miller.  "  Strathpeffer,"  he  wrote  to  Baird,  "one  of  the  finest  val- 
leys in  this  part  of  the  country,  lies  within  five  miles  of  Conon-side. 
My  walks  occasionally  extended  to  it;  and  I  still  retain  a  vividly- 


346  HUGH     MILLER. 

pleasing  recollection  of  its  enchanting  scenery,  with  the  more  pleas- 
ing features  of  the  scenes  through  which  I  passed  on  my  way  to  it. 

But  he  was  not  exclusively  engaged  on  these  occasions  in  view- 
hunting.  "  I  have  not  even  yet,"  he  adds,  "summed  up  my  evening 
amusements.  They  were  not  all  poetical.  The  country  round  Conon- 
side  abounds  with  wild  fruit,  and  I  feasted  among  the  woods,  during 
my  long  rambles,  on  gueens,  rowans,  raspberries,  and  blae-berries, 
with  all  the  keenness  of  boyish  appetite.  The  fruit  furnished  me  with 
an  ostensible  object  for  my  wanderings ;  and  when  complimented  by 
a  romantic  young^girl,  who  had  derived  her  notions  of  character  from 
the  reading  of  romances,  on  that  disposition  which  led  me  to  seek  my 
pleasures  in  solitude,  I  could  remark  in  reply  that  I  was  not  more 
fond  of  solitude  than  of  raspberries." 

It  was  late  in  the  year  when  he  returned  to  Cromarty.  Nearly  a 
month  of  winter  had  passed.  Ross  was  now  residing  in  the  cottage 
of  his  parents,  on  the  northern  side  of  Cromarty  Frith,  and  Miller 
lacked  the  stimulus  of  his  literary  sympathy.  "  What  remained  of  the 
season,"  he  wrote,  "  together  with  the  greater  part  of  the  ensuing 
spring,  was  spent  in  profitless  indolence.  I  neither  wrote  verses  nor 
drew  pictures,  but  wandered  during  the  day  through  the  fields  and 
woods,  and  among  the  rocks  of  the  hill  of  Cromarty  ;  and  my  even- 
ings were  commonly  spent  either  in  the  workshop  of  my  Uncle 
James,  where  a  few  of  the  more  intelligent  mechanics  of  the  place 
generally  met,  or  in  the  company  of  a  new  acquaintance,"  the  help- 
less cripple,  described  in  the  "  Schools  and  School-masters  "  as  "poor 
lame  Danie,"  who,  with  his  old  mother,  occupied  "a  damp,  under- 
ground room."  Miller  formed  a  friendship  with  the  suffering  boy, 
and  took  delight  in  alleviating  the  tedium  of  his  lingering  illness. 


RETURN'S     TO    CONON-SIDE — MAKES     HIMSELF   RESPECTED    IN   THE     BAR- 
RACK  COMPANIONS — ATTEMPTS      GEOMETRY      AND     ARCHITECTURE 

HARDSHIPS — EXPERIMENT      IN      NECROMANCY — DREAM — THE      BOTHY 

SYSTEM — LITERARY  RECREATIONS — TEDIUM END  OF  APPRENTICESHIP 

— THE    BLESSING  OF   LABOR — PRACTICAL   PHILOSOPHY. 

The  working  season  of  1822  finds  him  again  on  Conon-side.  He 
is  now  in  the  third  year  of  his  apprenticeship,  and  he  feels  that  he 
has  a  position  in  the  barrack.  "I  had  determined,"  said  he  in  his 
letter  to  Baird,  "  early  this  season,  to  conform  to  every  practice  of 
the  barrack,  and,  as  I  was  an  apt  pupil,  I  had  in  a  short  time  become 
one  of  the  freest,  and  not  the  least  rude,  of  its  inmates.  I  became 
an  excellent  baker,  and  one  of  the  most  skillful  of  cooks.  I  made 
wonderful  advances  in  the  art  of  practical  joking,  and  my  bonmots 
were  laughed  at  and  repeated.  There  were  none  of  my  companions 
who  could  foil  me  in  wrestling,  or  who  could  leap  within  a  foot  of 
me ;  and  after  having  taken  the  slight  liberty  of  knocking  down  a 


THE      FOREMAN.  347 

young  fellow  who  insulted  me,  they  all  began  to  esteem  me  as  a  lad 
of  spirit  and  promise." 

"The  foreman  of  the  squad,  when  a  young  man,"  writes  Miller, 
"had  bent  his  excellent  natural  parts  to  the  study  of  his  profession, 
and  became  so  skillful  in  it  as  to  be  intrusted  with  the  superintendence 
of  a  party  of  workmen  while  yet  an  apprentice.  His  early  proficiency 
was  a  subject  of  wonder  to  his  less- gifted  companions ;  he  was  much 
gratified  by  their  admiration,  and  acquired  that  appetite  for  praise 
which  is  of  so  general  experience,  and  which  in  many  instances  be- 
comes more  keen  the  more  it  is  supplied  with  food.  He  had  too 
much  sense  to  be  open  to  the  direct  flatteries  of  other  people,  but  he 
was  not  skillful  in  detecting  his  own ;  and  having  attained,  in  his 
limited  circle,  the  fame  of  being  talented,  he  set  himself  to  acquire 
the  reputation  of  being  generous  and  warm-hearted ;  and  this,  perhaps, 
— for  he  was  naturally  of  a  cold  temperament, — from  that  singular  weak- 
ness incident  to  human  nature,  which  has  so  frequently  the  effect  of 
making  even  men  of  reflection  derive  more  pleasure  from  the  praise 
of  the  qualities  or  talents  of  which  they  are  destitute  than  of  those 
which  they  really  possess." 

Miller  was  advised  by  this  man  to  study  geontetry  and  architecture. 
"  With  the  latter,"  he  says,  "  I  had  previously  been  acquainted  ;  of  the 
former,  I  was  entirely  ignorant.  I  had  not  even  a  single  correct  idea  of  it. 
The  study  of  a  few  detached  hours,  though  passed  amid  the  distrac- 
tion of  a  barrack,  made  me  master  of  the  language  peculiar  to  the 
science  ;  and  I  was  then  surprised  to  find  how  wide  a  province  it 
opens  to  the  mental  powers,  and  to  discover  that  what  is  termed 
mathematical  skill  means  only  an  ability  of  reasoning  on  the  forms 
and  properties  of  lines  and  figures,  acquired  by  good  sense  being 
patiently  directed  to  their  consideration.  I  perceived,  however, 
that  from  prosecuting  this  study  I  could  derive  only  amusement, 
and  that,  too,  not  of  a  kind  the  most  congenial  to  my  particular 
cast  of  mind.  I  had  no  ambition  to  rise  by  any  of  the  professions 
in  which  it  is  necessary ;  and  I  chose  rather  to  exercise  the  facul- 
ties proper  to  be  employed  in  it  in  the  wide  field  of  nature  and  of 
human  affairs, — in  tracing  causes  to  their  effects,  and  effects  to 
their  causes;  in  classing  together  things  similar,  and  in  marking 
the  differences  of  things  unlike.  The  study  of  architecture  I  found 
more  amusing ;  partly,  I  believe,  because  it  tasked  me  less ;  partly 
because  it  gratified  my  taste,  and  exercised  my  powers  of  invention. 
In  geometry  I  saw  that  I  could  only  follow  the  footsteps  of  others, 
and  that  I  would  be  necessitated  to  pursue  the  beaten  track  for  whole 
years  before  I  could  reach  that  latest  discovered  extremity  of  it,  be- 
yond which  there  lies  undiscovered,  untrodden  regions,  in  which  it 
would  be  a  delight  to  expatiate.  Architecture,  on  the  contrary,  ap- 
peared to  me  a  field  of  narrow  boundaries.  I  could  see  at  one  glance 
both  over  it  and  beyond  it.  I  have  found  that  the  grotesque  cottage 
of  *  Highland  peasant,  the  hut  of  a  herd-boy,  a  cavern  half  veiled 


348  HUGH     MILLER. 

over  with  trailing  plants,  an  opening  in  a  wood,  in  short,  a  countless 
variety  of  objects  of  art  and  nature,  supplied  me  with  ideas  which, 
though  connected  with  it,  had  not  become  part  of  it." 

From  mathematics,  therefore,  as  previously  from  classics,  Hugh 
Miller  turned  aside.  His  apprenticeship  had  begun  with  trying 
experiences,  and  its  termination  was  marked  also  by  extremity  of 
hardship.  In  the  September  of  this  year,  1822,  his  master  obtained 
work  a  few  miles  from  Cromarty.  Miller  and  he  worked  from  dawn 
until  nightfall.-  Their  work  was  painful :  They  toiled  "  day  after  day, 
with  wet  feet,  in  a  water-logged  ditch,"  laying  stone  upon  stone,  until 
the  cuticle  was  worn  away,  and  the  fingers  oozed  blood.  Miller  de- 
scribes the  labor  as  "torture."  "How  these  poor  hands,"  he  says, 
"burnt  and  beat  at  night,  as  if  an  unhappy  jjeart  had  been  stationed 
in  every  finger!  and  what  cold  chills  used  to  run,  sudden  as  electric 
shocks,  through  the  feverish  frame!"  His  health  was  affected;  a 
dull,  depressing  pain  weighed  upon  his  chest,  and  there  were  symp- 
toms of  pectoral  blood-spitting.  He  lost  his  spirits,  and  thought  he 
was  going  to  die. 

What  with  brooding  on  early  death  by  day,  wandering  among  tombs 
in  night-visions,  his  brain  was  rapidly  approaching  that  degree  of  agi- 
tation at  which  will  and  intellect  fall  under  the  dominion  of  mania. 

In  the  "Schools  and  School-masters,"  and  in  the  letter  to  Baird, 
he  dwells  upon  the  wretched  and  dissolute  life  of  the  two  or  three 
farm-servants  who  occupied  the  same  bothy  with  himself.  Their  or- 
dinary pleasures  consisted  in  drinking,  and  amusements  of  a  low  and 
gross  character.  "The  deteriorating  effect  of  the  large  farm  system," 
he  wrote,  "is  inevitable;  and  unless  means  be  taken  to  check  the 
spread  of  the  ruinous  process  of  brute-making  which  the  system  in- 
volves, the  Scottish  people  will  sink,  to  a  certainty,  in  the  agricultural 
districts,  from  being  one  of  the  most  provident,  intelligent,  and  moral 
in  Europe,  to  be  one  of  the  most  licentious,  reckless,  and  ignorant." 

If  iwo  men  ever  lived  who  knew  the  Scottish  people,  and  were  able 
to  give  an  intelligent  opinion  concerning  them,  these  two  men  were 
Robert  Burns  and  Hugh  Miller ;  and  their  joint  authority  in  favor  of 
the  old  system  and  against  the  new,  viewed  in  relation  to  the  capacity 
of  each  to  produce  upright,  independent,  self-respecting  men,  will 
hardly  be  outweighed  by  any  consideration. 

It  may  be  hoped  that  such  bothies  as  that  in  which  Hugh  Miller 
lived  at  this  time  are  no  longer  to  be  found  in  Scotland.  The  roof 
leaked  ;  the  sides  were  "  riddled  with  gaps  and  breaches;  "  along  the 
ridge,  "it  was  open  to  the  sky  from  gable  to  gable,"  "so  that," 
he  writes,  "  when  I  awakened  in  the  night,  I  could  tell  what  o'clock 
it  was,  without  rising  out  of  bed,  by  the  stars  which  appeared  through 
the  opening."  Even  in  that  dismal  place,  Miller  contrived  to  supply 
himself  with  the  consolations  of  literature.  He  obtained  the  poems 
of  Douglas  and  Dunbar,  besides  a  collection  of  poems  from  the  MS. 
of  George  Bannatyne,  and  "perused  them  with  great  interest;  "  but 


THE     EDUCATED    APPRENTICE.  349 

even  this  resource  failed  him.  The  fuel  used  for  warming  the  barrack 
became  soaked  with  rain,  and  could  not  produce  a  blaze  to  read  by, 
so  that  he  could  only  stick  doggedly  to  work,  passing  as  many  hours 
of  the  twenty-four  in  sleep  as  was  practicable.  "I  restricted  myself," 
he  writes,  "  to  two  meals  per  day,  that  immediately  after  taking  dinner 
I  might  go  to  bed ;  and  in  a  short  time  this  new  arrangement  became 
such  a  matter  of  habit,  that  I  commonly  fell  asleep  every  evening  about 
six  o'clock,  and  did  not  rise,  sometimes  not  even  awaking,  until  nearly 
eight  next  morning,  finding  that  sleep  was  not  a  bad  make-shift  in  the 
absence  of  livelier  entertainments."  In  the  letter  from  which  this  is 
quoted  he  pronounces  the  spring  and  summer  of  the  first  year  of  his 
apprenticeship  "the  gloomiest  seasons  of  his  life;"  in  the  "Schools 
and  School-masters,"  the  closing  period  is  declared  to  have  been 
"by  far  the  gloomiest  he  ever  spent."  At  both  periods  he  suffered 
about  as  much  as  man  can  suffer ;  but  in  the  intermediate  stages  there 
were  glimpses,  nay  abiding  gleams,  of  enjoyment.  On  the  nth  of 
November,  1822,  his  apprenticeship  came  to  an  end. 

He  was  now  an  accomplished  workman  ;  and  perhaps  in  all  his  books 
there  is  no  passage  more  weighty  or  valuable  than  that  in  which  he 
gives  his  estimate  of  the  importance  of  this  fact,  and  impresses  upon 
artisans  the  supreme  necessity  of  being  masters  of  their  trade.  "It 
is  not  uninstructive,"  he  writes,  "  to  observe  how  strangely  the  public 
are  led  at  times  to  attach  paramount  importance  to  what  is  in  reality 
only  subordinately  important,  and  to  pass  over  the  really  paramount 
without  thought  or  notice.  The  destiny  in  life  of  the  skilled  mechanic 
is  much  more  influenced,  for  instance,  by  his  second  education — that 
of  his  apprenticeship — than  by  his  first,  that  of  the  school ;  and  yet 
it  is  to  the  education  of  the  school  that  the  importance  is  generally 
regarded  as  attaching,  and  we  never  hear  of  the  other. 

The  careless,  incompetent  scholar  has  many  opportunities  of  recov- 
ering himself;  the  careless,  incompetent  apprentice,  who  either  fails 
to  serve  out  his  regular  time,  or  who,  though  he  fulfills  his  term,  is 
discharged  an  inferior  workman,  has  very  few ;  and,  further,  nothing 
can  be  more  certain  than  that  inferiority  as  a  workman  bears  much 
more  disastrously  on  the  condition  of  the  mechanic  than  inferiority 
as  a  scholar.  Unable  to  maintain  his  place  among  brother  journey- 
men, or  to  render  himself  worthy  of  the  average  wages  of  his  craft,  the 
ill-taught  mechanic  falls  out  of  regular  employment,  subsists  precari- 
ously for  a  time  on  occasional  jobs,  and  either,  forming  idle  habits, 
becomes  a  vagabond  tramper,  or,  getting  into  the  toils  of  some  rapa- 
cious taskmaster,  becomes  an  enslaved  sweater.  For  one  workman 
injured  by  neglect  of  his  school  education,  there  are  scores  ruined  by 
neglect  of  their  apprenticeship  education.  Three-fourths  of  the  dis- 
tress of  the  country's  mechanics  (of  course  not  that  of  the  unhappy 
class  who  have  to  compete  with  machinery),  and  nine-tenths  of  their 
vagabondism,  will  be  found  restricted  to  inferior  workmen,  who,  like 
Hogarth's  "careless  apprentice,"  neglected  the  opportunities  of  their 


35°  HUGH     MILLER. 

second  term  of  education.  The  sagacious  painter  had  a  truer  in- 
sight into  this  matter  than  most  of  our  modern  educationists." 

During  his  apprenticeship,  the  character  of  Miller  began  to  reveal 
the  essential  traits  which  we  afterwards  find  in  it.  "  Gloomy"  many 
of  its  seasons  were  ;  the  "  gloo'miest  "  of  his  life, — at  least  until  he 
became  a  literary  celebrity  and  editor  of  a  religious  newspaper ;  but 
both  its  gloom  and  its  gladness  went  to  the  making  and  maturing  of 
his  character.  The  aching  joint,  the  fevered  pulse,  the  breast  op- 
pressed with  pain,  the  eye  swimming  in  bewildered  trance  of  agony 
and  exhaustion ;  the  meditative  midnight  hour,  when  his  eye  marked 
the  stars  as  they  crossed  the  rent  in  the  roof ;  the  evening  wander- 
ings in  woodland  and  by  stream,  when  sunset  clothed  in  ruddy  light 
the  old  tower  on  the  crag, — these  constituted  the  true  education  of 
Hugh  Miller.  Henceforth  we  recognize  him  as  the  man  he  was,  and 
are  able  to  trace  in  his  countenance  those  lines  of  fortitude  and  reso- 
lution which  so  strongly  marked  that  of  his  father.  He  had  won  the 
first  decisive  victory  of  life,  earnest  of  all  other  victories, — the 
victory  of  reason  and  conscience  over  momentary  inclinations,  of  in- 
telligent will  over  laggard  indolence  and  lawless  impulse.  He  had 
disciplined  the  wayward  activity  of  boyhood  into  manly  force.  He 
had  chastened  rude  strength  into  ordered  energy.  Blustering  self- 
assertion,  juvenile  conceit,  had  given  place  to  deliberate  self-respect ; 
and  that  rebellious  disposition  which  had  perplexed  his  uncles  and 
been  the  despair  of  his  mother  was  calmed  and  concentrated  into 
modesty,  into  self-command,  into  the  gentleness  of  conscious  power. 
The  flawed  and  brittle  iron  had  become  steel.  "  Noble,  upright, 
self-relying  toil,"  he  exclaims,  with  grand  enthusiasm,  "who  that 
knows  thy  solid  worth  and  value  would  be  ashamed  of  thy  hard  hands, 
and  thy  soiled  vestments,  and  thy  obscure  tasks, — thy  humble  cottage, 
and  hard  couch,  and  homely  fare  !" 

Not,  however,  to  all  men  is  toil  an  education  and  hardship  a  bless- 
ing. Hugh  Miller  came  to  his  apprenticeship  fortified  against  evil, 
and  prepared  for  good  by  that  training  in  courage  and  truthfulness, 
in  just  thought  and  manly  feeling,  which  he  had  unconsciously  re- 
ceived in  companionship  with  his  uncles.  Those  gentlemen  of 
nature's  finest  modeling  were,  though  he  knew  it  not,  the  examples 
by  which  he  shaped  himself.  He  acted  on  all  occasions  as  he  felt 
that  Uncle  James  or  Uncle  Sandy  would  have  acted.  How  bravely 
he  makes  the  most  of  adverse  circumstances !  How  cheerfully 
he  accommodates  himself  to  his  situation !  How  kindly  are  the 
relations  he  establishes  between  himself  and  his  coarse  and  riotous 
associates !  He  has  a  deep-lying  conviction  of  his  ability  to  rise 
above  the  sphere  in  which  he  finds  himself  placed  ;  but  he  has  already 
got  firm  hold  of  a  very  ancient  philosophy  of  life,  a  philosophy  which 
has  been  of  use  to  wise  men  in  every  age  ;  and  it  has  made  him 
comparatively  indifferent  to  what  is  called  success.  According  to  this 
philosophy,  happiness  is  too  subtle  an  essence  to  be  purchased  with 


THE     JOURNEYMAN.  351 

gold,  or  to  be  dealt  out  wholesale  to  one  class  of  men  as  distinguished 
from  another ;  the  rude  fare  of  the  peasant  is  as  sweet  to  him  as  his 
dainties  to  the  peer ;  the  honest  pride  which  warms  the  heart  of  the 
capable  artisan  is  as  instinct  with  joy  as  the  aristocrat's  pride  of  rank 
or  birth ;  nature's  face  has  a  smile  for*  all  who  will  lovingly  look  into 
it;  and  rising  in  the  world  may  mean  failing  in  all  that  makes  life 
precious,  character  illustrious,  man  happy. 


FAVORABLE  OPINIONS  FROM  OLD  DAVID  WRIGHT  AND  UNCLE  JAMES — 
FIRST  WORK  AS  JOURNEYMAN — AUNT  JENNY'S  COTTAGE — SENDS 
POETICAL  PIECES  TO  ROSS — SELF-DELINEATION. 

On  returning  to  Cromarty,  Miller  soon  regains  his  health,  and 
things  wear  for  him  on  the  whole  a  pleasant  aspect.  Old  David 
Wright,  who  had  occasionally  been  morose  to  his  apprentice,  now 
declares  that,  though  unsecured  to  him  by  any  written  agreement, 
Hugh  had  been,  "  beyond  comparison,  more  tractable  and  obedient 
than  any  indentured  pupil  he  eVer  had."  Uncle  James,  whose  pre- 
dictions of  failure  at  work,  as  a  natural  sequel  to  failure  at  school, 
had  contributed  not  a  little  to  the  support  of  Miller  at  the  worst 
time, — for  it  would  be  exquisitely  gratifying  to  punish  and  to  please 
Uncle  James  by  one  and  the  same  course  of  action,  —  does  ample 
justice  to  the  faithfulness  with  which,  from  a  mere  sense  of  honor, 
he  has  completed  his  engagement,  and  owns  that  there  is  in  him, 
after  all,  the  making  of  a  man. 

His  first  employment  as  a  journeyman  is  characteristic.  "Aunt 
Jenny,"  a  sister  of  his  mother,  who  had  long  wished  to  have  some  dwell- 
ing which  she  could  call  her  own,  and  in  which  her  spinning-wheel 
and  knitting-needles  might  supply  her  modest  wants,  had  never  sur- 
mounted the  alarm  occasioned  by  the  prospect  of  paying  rent.  Hugh 
inherited  a  little  piece  of  garden  ground  from  his  father.  Part  of  this 
he  now  devotes  to  the  purpose  of  building  a  cottage  for  Aunt  Jenny. 
Money  he  has  none,  but  the  few  pounds  which  his  aunt  has  saved  are 
enough  to  buy  wood  for  the  roof  and  to  pay  for  carting  the  necessary 
stones  and  mortar,  and  he  builds  the  cottage.  The  worthy  aunt  is 
saved  from  fear  of  rent  for  the  remainder  of  her  days,  and  Hugh  has 
his  reward. 

During  the  brief  interval  between  the  building  of  Aunt  Jenny's  cot- 
tage and  his  first  engagement  as  a  journeyman,  he  writes  to  William 
Ross,  in  Edinburgh,  and  copies  out  for  him  a  selection  of  his  poems. 

The  poems  are  fluent  and  vivacious,  but  display  little  original  power 
or  depth  of  melody.  The  following  lines  are  not  without  a  certain 
pensive  sweetness  and  sincerity : 


35 2  HUGH  MILLER. 

THE  DAYS  THAT  ARE  GONE. 

"  On  the  friends  of  my  youth  and  the  days  that  are  gone, 
In  the  depth  of  the  wild  wood,  I  ponder  alone, 
And  my  heart  by  a  sad  gloomy  spirit  is  moved, 
When  I  view  the  fair  scenes  that  in  childhood  I  loved. 
Harsh  roars  the  rough  ocean,  o'ercast  is  the  sky, 
The  voice  of  the  wind  passeth  mournfully  by; 
For  winter  reigns  wide  ; — '  sure  'tis  winter  with  me  ;' 
But  a  spring  to  my  winter  I  never  shall  see  : 
For  aught  of  earth's  joys  'tis  unmanly  to  moan, 
Yet  bursts  the  sad  sigh  for  the  days  that  are  gone. 

The  fair  flowers  of  summer  have  vanished  away, 
The  green  shrub  is  withered,  and  leafless  the  spray; 
Yet  memory,  half  sad  and  half  sportive,  still  shows 
How  bloomed  the  blue  violet,  how  blossomed  the  rose. 
Say,  shall  not  that  memory  as  fondly  retain 
Hold  of  joys  I  have  proved  as  of  charms  I  have  seen  ? 
Yes  ! — Nature's  fair  scenes  are  more  dear  to  this  heart 
Than  the  trophies  of  love  or  the  pageants  of  art, 
Yet  more  to  this  bosom  those  friends  are  endeared, 
By  whom  in  life's  dawn  the  gay  moments  were  cheered ; 
More  cherished,  though  darker  their  memory  shall  be, 
Than  that  of  the  rose  or  the  violet  by  me. 

Ye  rocks,  whose  rough  summits  seem  lost  in  the  clouds, 
Ye  fountains,  ye  caves,  and  ye  dark  waving  woods, 
In  the  still  voice  of  memory  ye  bid  me  to  mourn 
For  the  joys  and  the  years  that  must  never  return, 
The  years  ere  the  gay  hopes  of  youth  were  laid  low, 
Or  hope  half-despondent  had  wept  o'er  the  blow, 
The  joys,  ere  my  knowledge  of  mankind  began 
By  proving  the  toils  and  the  sorrows  of  man. 

Yet  why  should  I  sorrow  ? — poor  child  of  decay, 
Myself,  like  my  pleasures,  must  vanish  away, 
And  life  in  the  view  of  my  spirit  may  seem 
The  tossing  confused  of  a  feverish  dream. 
Yes,  life  is  a  dream,  a  wild  dream,  where  the  will 
Striveth  vainly  the  precepts  of  right  to  fulfill ; 
A  dream  where  the  dreamer  to  sorrow  is  tied ; 
A  dream  where  proud  reason  but  weakly  can  guide ; 
It  controls  not  my  spirit,  despite  of  my  will, 
The  joys  of  the  by-past  are  haunting  me  still. 

And  oft  when  all  bright  on  my  night  slumbers  break 
The  spirits  of  pleasures  I  prize  when  awake, 
When  I  seize  them  with  gladness  and  revel  in  joy, 
Comes  the  beam  of  the  morning  my  bliss  to  destroy; 
Away  on  the  light  wings  of  slumber  they  fly, 
While  their  memory  remains,  and  I  languish  and  sigh. 
O  days  of  bright  pleasure !  O  days  of  delight ! 
From  me  ye  forever  have  winged  your  flight. 
But  the  calm,  pensive  Muse  still  remains  to  beguile 
The  day  of  dark  thought,  of  affliction  and  toil ; 
By  the  gloom  of  the  present  the  past  to  endear, 
By  the  joys  of  the  by-past  the  present  to  cheer." 

We  may  here  give  the  following  somewhat  high-flown  account  of  him- 


GAIRLOCH.  353 

self,  which  served  as  preface  to  a  second  copy  of  his  juvenile  poems, 
with  which  he  seems  to  have  favored  Ross : 

"  CRO MARTY,  March  15,  1823. 

"DEAR  WILLIE — 1823  would  have  sounded  oddly  seven  years  ago, 
about  which  time  we  first  got  acquainted ;  yet,  by  the  natural  course 
of  things,  it  has  become  the  present  time,  and  the  by-past  years  live 
only  in  the  memory  of  the  evil  or  good  committed  in  them.  In  1815, 1 
was  a  thoughtless,  careless  school-boy,  who  proved  his  spirit  by  play- 
ing truant  three  weeks  in  the  four,  and  his  genius  by  writing  rhymes 
which  pleased  nobody  but  himself.  In  1823,  that  same  school-boy  finds 
himself  a  journeyman  mason,  not  quite  so  free  from  care,  but  as  much 
addicted  to  rhyming  as  ever.  But  is  this  all  ?  Can  he  boast  of  no 
good  effect  produced  by  the  experience  of  a  space  of  time  which 
brings  him  from  his  thirteenth  to  his  twentieth  year?  Has  that  time 
passed  away  in  a  manner  useless  to  himself  and  uninteresting  to  others? 
Not  entirely  so ;  for  in  that  time  he  got  acquainted  with  William 
Ross  ;  in  that  time  he  changed  the  thoughtless  hilarity  of  nature  for 
the  placid,  tideless  composure  of  sentiment ;  and  in  that  time  the  gay 
hopes  of  fortune  and  of  fame  which  engaged  him  even  in  the  simplest 
days  of  his  childhood  have  changed  into  a  less  noble,  though  not  a 
less  pleasing  form.  His  happiness  no  longer  depends  upon  the  hope 
of  the  applause  of  others ;  not  even  of  the  approbation  of  his  friends ; 
he  acts  and  he  writes  for  himself.  His  own  judgment  is  his  critic — 
his  own  soul  is  the  world  to  which  he  addresses  himself;  but  do  not 
imagine  that  his  own  tongue  sounds  his  own  praise,  which  I  am  afraid, 
if  I  went  on  any  longer  in  this  strain,  you  might  justly  say." 


GAIRLOCH — LETTERS    DESCRIPTIVE     OF   HIS     JOURNEY   FROM   CONON-SIDE 

AND   OF   GAIRLOCH    SCENERY LOVE-POETRY OLD    JOHN    FRASER — 

MAGNANIMOUS    REVENGE GAIRLOCH    LANDSCAPES  —  BACK    TO   CRO- 

MARTY. 

"About  mid-summer,  work  turns  up  at  Gairloch.  Gairloch  is  an 
arm  of  the  sea  on  the  western  coast  of  Ross-shire.  Its  length  is, 
perhaps,  somewhat  more  than  eight  miles,  its  breadth  varies  from  three 
to  five.  The  shores,  with  the  exception  of  two  or  three  little  sandy 
banks,  are  steep  and  rocky;  the  surrounding  country  is  highland  in 
the  extreme. 

"There  is  neither  horse  nor  plow  in  the  village, — a  long,  crook- 
handled  kind  of  spade,  termed  a  cass  chrom,  and  the  hoe,  supplying 
the  place  of  the  latter,  the  highlander  himself,  and  more  particularly 
his  wife,  that  of  the  former;  for  here  (shall  I  venture  the  expression?) 
as  in  all  semi-barbarous  countries,  the  woman  seems  to  be  regarded 
rather  as  the  drudge  than  the  companion  of  the  man.  It  is  the  part 
of  the  husband  to  turn  up  the  land  and  sow  it;  the  wife  conveys  the 

23 


354  HUGH    MILLER. 

manure  to  it  in  a  square  creel  with  a  slip  bottom,  tends  the  corn, 
reaps  it,  hoes  the  potatoes,  digs  them  up,  and  carries  the  whole  home 
on  her  back.  When  bearing  the  creel,  she  is  also  engaged  in  spin- 
ning with  the  distaff  and  spindle.  I  wish  you  but  saw  with  what 
patience  these  poor  females  continue  working  thus,  doubly  employed, 
for  the  greater  part  of  a  long  summer's  day.  I  frequently  let  the 
mallet  rest  on  the  stone  before  me,  as  some  one  of  them  passes  by,  bent 
nearly  double  with  the  load  she  is  carrying,  yet  busily  engaged  in 
stretching  out  and  turning  the  yarn  with  her'right  hand,  and  winding 
it  up  with  her  left.  Can  you  imagine  a  more  primitive  system  of 
agriculture,  or  wonder  that  I  should  be  half  inclined  to  imagine  that, 
instead  of  having  taken  a  journey  of  a  few  score  miles  to  witness  it, 
I  had  retraced,  for  that  purpose,  the  flight  of  time  for  the  last  six 
centuries?" 

"  I  am  busily  courting  three  maids,  who,  though  they  have  not  a 
syllable  of  English  amongst  them,  are  very  kindly  teaching  me  Gaelic ; 
and  from  a  young  lady,  a  governess,  I  have  borrowed  a  few  books. 
One  of  these  is  a  small  volume  of  poems  by  a  Miss  Campbell,  twelve 
years  ago  a  young  lady  of  seventeen.  At  even  that  early  age  she  was  a 
poetess,  and  rich  in  those  sentiments  and  feelings  which  we  deem  so  fas- 
cinating in  the  amiable  and  accomplished  woman.  Even,  though  occa- 
sionally the  girl  peeps  out  in  most  of  her  pieces,  I  like  them  none 
the  worse ;  her  puerilities,  joined  to  no  equivocal  indications  of  a  fine 
genius,  leading  one  to  entertain  hopes  of  her  future  eminence  ;  and 
certainly,  if  her  riper  years  have  but  fulfilled  the  promise  which  her 
earlier  ones  have  given,  she  must  be  now  a  very  superior  person 
indeed.  I  feel  much  interested  in  her,  and  wish  much  to  know  what 
has  become  of  her."  .  .  . 

Thus  abruptly  ends  the  narrative.  Miller's  jesting  allusion  to  the 
three  maids  whom  he  was  "courting,"  suggests  the  remark  that  his 
insensibility  to  female  attractions  in  his  youth,  contrasts  strongly  not 
only  with  the  impassioned  admiration  of  Burns  for  every  beautiful 
face  he  ever  saw,  but  with  the  susceptibility  to  woman's  charms  com- 
mon to  vivid  and  poetical  natures. 

Rhyming  or  reasoning,  courting  or  cogitating,  Hugh  Miller,  during 
this  season  at  Gairloch,  is  worth  looking  at.  Not  yet  twenty-one, 
living  in  a  hovel,  from  which  water,  a  foot  deep,  has  been  drained  off 
to  render  it  habitable,  his  food  oatmeal  without  milk,  his  companions 
stone-masons,  his  employment  manual  labor,  he  bates  no  jot  of  hope 
or  heart,  but  takes  the  whole  with  a  frank  effulgence  of  mirth,  a  rug- 
ged humor  of  character,  which  bears  him  victoriously  through.  It 
never  strikes  him  that  there  is  hardship  in  his  own  lot,  but  he  has 
ready  sympathy  for  the  distresses  of  others.  Might  not  some  Scotch 
artist  try  to  realize  for  us  that  picture,  drawn  by  Miller  of  himself 
with  so  little  thought  of  picturesque  effect,  when  the  pensive  lad 
drops  his  mallet  and  looks  at  the  highland  woman,  bent  nearly  double 
with  her  burden,  yet,  as  she  wearily  trudges  past,  working  with  both 


OLD     JOHN     FRASER.  355 

hands?  One  can  see  the  kind,  grave,  deep-thoughted  face,  the 
steadfast  blue  eyes  moistening  with  compassion,  the  lip  touched,  per- 
haps, with  a  faint,  mournful  smile  of  stoical,  not  cynical,  acceptance 
of  the  sternness  of  fate. 

Miller's  poetical  faculty,  though  not  powerfully  stirred  by  the 
nymphs  of  Gairloch,  and  though  more  felicitous,  now  and  subsequently, 
in  prose  than  in  verse,  did  not  at  this  time  slumber.  That  picture  of 
the  old,  gray  tower  of  Fairburn,  "  like  a  giant  eremite  musing  in 
solitude,"  is  genuinely  imaginative. 

One  of  Miller's  Gairloch  fellow-workmen  exerted  a  most  important 
influence  upon  him.  I  refer  to  John  Fraser,  one  of  three  brothers, 
who,  if  Mr.  Darwin's  theory  is  sound,  were  a  variation  of  the  hu- 
man species  adapted  to  found  a  race  of  superlative  masons  and  stone- 
cutters, and  to  outlive  and  extirpate,  by  natural  selection,  all  other 
masons  and  stone-cutters.  Miller  states,  on  the  authority  of  "  Mr. 
Kenneth  Matheson,  a  gentleman  well-known  as  a  master-builder  in 
the  west  of  Scotland,"  that  David  Fraser,  the  most  remarkable  of 
the  brothers,  could  do  three  times  as  much  as  an  ordinary  workman. 
John,  even  when  advanced  in  life,  could  build  against  "  two  stout 
young  fellows"  and  "keep  a  little  ahead  of  them  both."  "I 
recognize  old  John,"  says  Hugh  Miller,  "as  one  of  not  the  least 
useful  nor  able  of  my  many  teachers;"  and  the  justice  of  the  remark 
is  attested  by  the  admirably  philosophic  account  which  he  gives  of 
the  lesson  old  John  taught  him.  The  secret  of  Fraser's  power  was 
that  he  saw  "  the  finished  piece  of  work,"  as  it  lay  within  the  stone, 
and  cut  down  upon  the  true  figure  at  once,  without  repeating,  like 
an  ordinary  workman,  his  lines  and  draughts.  And  is  not  this  faculty 
of  seeing  with  the  mind's  eye  what  the  hand  has  to  execute — of  con- 
ceiving the  work  as  a  whole,  so  that  there  shall  be  neither  hurry  nor 
delay  in  carrying  it  out — essentially  the  faculty  by  which  a  Hannibal 
or  a  Napoleon  wins  battles,  a  Dante  or  a  Shakespeare  writes  poems, 
a  Titian  or  a  Turner  paints  masterpieces? 

The  work  completed,  Miller  removed,  with  two  of  his  brother 
workmen,  to  a  village  in  the  neighborhood,  to  build  a  house  for  an 
innkeeper,  who  made  a  point  of  inviting  them  to  dine  with  him  on 
Sunday.  "  He  was  a  loquacious  little  man,  full  of  himself,  and  de- 
sirous of  being  reckoned  a  wit,"  but  without  capacity  to  play  the 
part.  Miller,  less  talkative  than  his  fellow-workmen,  was  supposed 
by  mine  host  to  be  available  as  a  butt,  and  was  made  the  object  of 
sundry  small  witticisms.  He  took  this  in  good  part  for  awhile,  but 
one  day  he  retorted  upon  his  entertainer  and  reduced  him  to  silence. 
The  consequence  was,  that  he  was  excluded  from  the  invitation  next 
Sunday,  and  left  to  regale  himself  on  oatmeal  and  milk  in  the  solitude 
of  the  barrack.  He  took  his  revenge  in  a  way  gratifying  at  once  to 
his  pride  and  his  kindliness.  One  of  the  favored  workmen  had  bar- 
gained with  the  innkeeper  to  give  the  latter  a  hammer  and  trowel,  but, 
after  receiving  the  money  for  the  articles,  had  played  him  false.  "  I 


35<>  HUGH     MILLER. 

was  informed  of  the  circumstance,"  says  Miller  to  Baird,  "when  on 
the  eve  of  setting  out  for  the  low  country ;  and  taking  my  hammer 
and  trowel  from  my  bundle,  I  presented  them  to  the  innkeeper's 
wife — alleging,  when  she  urged  me  to  set  a  price  on  them,  that  they 
were  a  very  inadequate  return  for  her  husband's  kindness  to  me  during 
the  two  first  weeks  of  our  acquaintance."  It  was  a  mode  of  revenge 
to  which  neither  Uncle  James  nor  Uncle  Sandy  could  have  taken  ex- 
ception. 

Before  quitting  Gairloch,  we  may  take  his  final  picture  of  one  of  its 
landscapes :  "  There  is  a  steep,  high  hill,  rather  more  than  a  mile 
from  the  manse,  to  the  summit  of  which  I  frequently  extended  my 
walks.  The  view  which  the  eye  commands  is  of  a  character  wilder 
and  more  sublime  than  can  be  either  rightly  imagined  or  described. 
Towards  the  east  and  south  there  spreads  a  wide,  savage  prospect  of 
rugged  mountains,  towering  the  one  over  the  other  from  the  fore- 
ground to  the  horizon,  and  varying  in  color,  in  proportion  to  the 
distance,  from  the  darkest  nisset  to  the  faintest  purple.  They  are 
divided  by  deep,  gloomy  ravines,  that  seem  the  clefts  and  fissures  of 
a  shattered  and  ruined  planet ;  and  their  summits  are  either  indented 
into  rough  naked  crags,  or  whitened  over  with  unwasting  snows — 
forming  fit  thrones  upon  which  the  spirits  of  winter  might  repose, 
each  in  a  separated  insulated  territory,  and  from  whence  they  might 
defy  the  milder  seasons  as  they  passed  below.  To  the  north  and  west 
the  scene  is  of  a  different  description ;  it  presents  a  rocky  indented 
shore,  and  a  wide  sea  speckled  over  with  islands.  On  'both  sides, 
however,  though  the  features  are  dissimilar,  the  expression  is  the 
same.  Scarcely  more  of  the  works  of  man  appear  visible  in  the 
whole  wide  circumference  than  appeared  to  the  gaze  of  Noah,  when 
he  first  stood  on  the  summit  of  Mount  Ararat,  and  contemplated  the 
wreck  of  the  deluge. 

"  It  was  on  a  beautiful  evening  in  the  month  of  June  that  I  first 
climbed  the  steep  side  of  this  hill  and  rested  on  its  summit.  I  was 
much  impressed  by  the  wide  extent  and  sublime  grandeur  of  the  scene. 
Part  of  the  eastern  skirt  of  the  Atlantic  was  spread  out  beneath  me, 
mottled  with  the  Hebrides.  In  one  glance,  I  had  a  view  of  Longa, 
Skye,  Lewis,  Harris,  Rona,  Raza,  and  several  other  islands  with  whose 
•names  I  was  unacquainted.  The  sky  and  sea  were  both  colored  with 
the  same  warm  hue  of  sunset,  and  appeared  as  if  blended  together ; 
while  the  islands  which  lay  on  the  verge  of  the  horizon  seemed 
dense  purple  clouds,  which,  though  motionless  in  the  calm,  the  first 
sea-breeze  might  sweep  away.  Toward  the  south  my  eye  was  caught 
by  two  gigantic  mountains,  which,  as  if  emulous  of  each  other,  towered 
above  the  rest,  like  the  contending  chiefs  of  a  divided  people  ;  while 
toward  the  east  I  beheld  a  scene  of  terrible  ruin  and  sublime  disorder — 
mountain  piled  upon  mountain,  and  ravine  intersecting  ravine.  All 
my  faculties  of  reason  and  imagination  seemed  at  first  as  if  frustrated 
and  held  down  by  some  superior  power ;  the  magnitude  of  the  scene 


SAILS    FOR    EDINBURGH.  357 

oppressed  me ;  I  felt  as  if  in  the  presence  of  the  Spirit  of  the  Universe  ; 
and  the  apology  of  the  Jewish  spies  recurred  to  me,  '  We  were  as 
grasshoppers  before  them. ' ' 

This  was  written  when  Miller  was  twenty-seven.  It  is  remarkable 
for  the  absence  of  all  geological  allusion,  and  for  the  strong  human 
element  in  the  imagery. 

The  winter  of  1823  was  spent,  as  usual,  in  Cromarty.  Miller  had 
no  friend  of  his  own  age  with  whom  he  cared  much  to  associate.  He 
seems  to  have  been  in  a  trivial  mood,  and  to  have  made  business  of 
amusement.  "There  was,"  he  says,  "  a  little  mischievous  boy  of 
about  ten  years  of  age  whom  I  choose  as  a  companion  for  lack  of  a 
better.  He  was  spirited  and  sensible  for  his  years,  and  deemed  me  a 
vepy  superior  kind  of  playfellow.  I  taught  him  how  to  climb,  and  leap, 
and  wrestle,  how  to  build  bridges  and  rig  ships,  and  how  to  make 
baskets  and  rush  caps.  I  told  him  stories,  and  lent  him  books,  and 
showed  him  how  to  act  plays,  and  lighted  fires  with  him  in  the  caves 
of  the  hill  of  Cromarty,  and,  in  short,  went  on  in  such  a  manner  that 
my  acquaintances  began  to  shake  their  own  heads  and  to  question  the 
soundness  of  mine.  My  Uncle  James,  who  used  sturdily  to  assert,  in 
the  face  of  all  opposing  evidence,  that  my  powers  of  mind  averaged 
rather  above  than  below  the  common  standard,  seriously  told  me 
about  this  time,  that  if  I  would  not  act  more  in  the  manner  of  other 
people,  he  would  defend  me  no  longer." 


COMES  OF  AGE — SETS  SAIL  FOR  EDINBURGH — PARTING   REFLECTIONS — 
MORNING  ON    THE  MORAY  FRITH  —  FIRST  SIGHT  OF   EDINBURGH  — 
ABSENT  FROM  CHURCH  FOR  FIVE  SUNDAYS  AND  "A  FEW  MORE1' 
HOLYROOD,  CHARLES  II.  *S  STATUE,  EFFIGY  OF  KNOX,  THE  COLLEGE, 
FERGUSON'S   GRAVE,  DR.  M'CRIE  —  THE  PANORAMA,  THE  THEATER. 

In  the  autumn  of  1823,  Miller  became  of  age,  and  claimed  proprietor- 
ship of  a  wretched  tenement  on  the  Coal-hill  of  Leith,  which  had 
been  a  constant  source  of  loss  and  annoyance  to  his  mother  from 
the  time  of  his  father's  death.  His  wish  was  to  dispose  of  it,  and,  to 
investigate  the  affair  on  the  spot,  he  sailed  from  Cromarty  for  Leith 
in  the  spring  of  1824. 

"Two  days  of  our  voyage  had  passed  pleasantly,  but  upon  the 
morning  of  the  third  I  was  surprised  and  somewhat  disheartened 
when,  upon  getting  on  deck,  I  perceived  nothing  but  a  dark  rolling 
sea,  and  a  dense  cloud  of  mist  closing  upon  the  vessel  upon  every 
side.  .  .  Often  as  I  paced  the  narrow  space  the  deck  afforded 
me,  did  I  behold  in  fancy  the  scenes  I  was  soon  to  visit,  and  as  often 
was  that  fancy  carried  back  to  picture  the  regrets  and  joys  of  home. 
But  that  you  may  better  know  what  my  thoughts  were,  I  insert  the 
copy  of  a  short,  I  should  rather  say  unfinished,  poem  I  composed 
that  morning.  It  will  show  you  what  ideas  I  had  formed  of  Edin- 


358  HUGH    MILLER. 

burgh,  and  how  little  the  hope  of  its  pleasures  appeared  when  com- 
pared with  the  well-proved  joys  of  the  home  I  had  left : 

"  Thou  mayst  boast,  O  Edina,  thou  home  of  delight, 
For  thy  gallants  are  gay,  and  thy  ladies  are  bright ; 
August  is  thy  palace,  thy  castle  sublime 
Has  braved  the  rude  dints  of  fire,  battle,  and  time. 

"  Thou  mayst  boast,  O  Edina,  thou  famed  abode 
Of  the  wise  and  the  learned,  of  the  great  and  the  good ; 
Thou  mayst  boast  of  thy  worthies,  mayst  boast  of  thy  towers, 
Thy  halls  and  thy  temples,  thy  grots  and  thy  bowers. 

"  Yet  lovelier  by  far  and  more  dear  to  this  heart 
Than  all  your  gay  trophies  of  labor  and  art, 
Is  the  home  of  my  fathers,  the  much-loved  land, 
Of  the  dauntless  of  heart  and  the  mighty  of  hand. 

"  'T  is  there  the  gray  bones  of  my  fathers  are  laid, 
'Twas  there  that  my  life's  sunny  friendships  were  made, 
And  till  death  chills  my  bosom  and  closes  my  e'e, 
These  friends  and  that  land  shall  be  dear  unto  me." 

"  The  weather  was  still  extremely  thick,  and  though  my  eyes  were 
earnestly  fixed  in  that  direction,  I  could  see  but  little  of  Edinburgh. 
These  were  but  transient  glimpses,  but  of  the  town  of  Leith,  I  had  a 
full  and  distinct  view.  A  young  lad,  one  of  the  passengers,  was  point- 
ing out  to  me  the  harbor,  docks,  and  public  buildings,  and  between 
the  amusement  his  remarks  afforded  me,  and  the  pleasure  I  took  in 
looking  at  the  vessels  we  passed  and  repassed  in  the  roadstead,  an 
hour  or  two  flew  away  very  agreeably." 

His  verses  are  so  poor  that  an  apology  may  seem  necessary  for  pre- 
senting them  to  the  reader.  But  here  we  have  at  least  the  lad  Miller 
in  his  habit  as  he  lived,  with  no  gleam  from  the  after-time  to  disturb 
the  artless  unconsciousness  of  modest,  simple-hearted  youth.  Both  in 
his  letter  to  Baird,  and  in  the  "Schools  and  School-masters,"  there 
are  elaborate  pictures  of  his  first  sight  of  Edinburgh.  It  is  well  to 
remember  that  the  bareness  in  the  record  of  his  impressions  which 
meets  us  in  these  letters  on  Edinburgh,  may  arise  partly  from  his  in- 
experience. 

The  great  city — to  one  who  had  never  seen  a  larger  town  than  In- 
verness, it  was  very  great — threw  him  at  first  out  of  all  habitudes.  He 
frankly  confesses,  "  though  conscious  that  by  so  doing  he  will  lay  him- 
self open  to  merited  censure,"  that  on  the  first  four  Sundays  after  his 
arrival  he  absented  himself  from  church,  and  "strolled  through  the 
streets  of  Leith  and  Edinburgh ; "  that  the  fifth  was  occupied  in  scal- 
ing Arthur's  Seat  and  viewing  the  city  and  adjacent  country  from  its 
summit ;  and  that  "  a  few  more"  were  passed  in  the  company  of  some 
townsmen  of  his  own,  who,  "Cameronian-like,  preferred  the  open  air 
to  a  church." 

He  is  much  disappointed  with  the  High  Street,  having  been  led  by 


STATUE     OF     CHARLES     II.  359 

something  he  had  read  in  the  works  of  Smollett  to  fancy  that  it  was 
"  one  of  the  finest  in  Europe."  He  looks  with  great  contempt  upon 
the  equestrian  statue  of  Charles  II. '  in  Parliament  House  Square. 
"This  lascivious  and  dissipated  monarch,"  he  says,  "is  attired  in  the 
garb  of  an  ancient  Roman  ;  and,  by  his  appearance,  a  person  unac- 
quainted with  the  history  of  his  reign  might  suppose  him  to  have  been 
a  sapient  and  warlike  prince,  dauntless  in  the  field  and  wise  in  the 

council When  I  first  saw  the  statue,  I  could  not  help 

quoting  a  few  lines  from  Thomson's  'Liberty,'  which  will  appear  to 
you  as  it  did  to  me,  the  character  of  Charles  the  Second  faithfully 
drawn,  maugre  the  inscription  and  the  Roman  dress: — 

"  '  By  dangerous  softness  long  he  mined  his  way : 
By  subtle  arts,  dissimulation  deep, 
By  sharing  what  corruption  showered  profuse, 
By  breathing  wide  the  gay  lascivious  plague, 
And  pleasing  manners  suited  to  deceive, 

A  pensioned  king, 
Against  his  country  bribed  by  Gallic  gold.' " 

The  natural  and  unaffected  manner  in  which  Miller  alludes  to  Smollett 
and  Thomson  is  not  without  significance.  How  completely  this  young 
mason  is  already  a  literary  character ! 

His  estimate  of  Edinburgh  College  is  high,  and  the  terms  in  which 
it  is  couched  prove  that  he  had  already  acquired  some  technical 
knowledge  of  architecture.  "  The  College  in  my  opinion  is  the  finest 
building  in  Edinburgh,  either  taken  in  its  parts  or  as  a  whole.  It  forms 
a  square,  the  exterior  of  which  displays  all  the  chaste  simplicity  of  the 
Doric  order,  and  the  interior  the  lighter  graces  of  the  Ionic  and  Co- 
rinthian." 

He  visits  the  burying  grounds  of  the  city.  Here  is  an  interesting 
note :  "I  have  seen  the  grave  of  poor  Ferguson,  and  the  plain  stone 
placed  at  its  head  by  his  brother  in  misfortune  and  genius,  Robert 
Burns.  I  felt  much  affected  when  standing  above  the  sod  which 
covers  the  mortal  remains  of  the  young  poet,  and  could  have  dropped 
a  tear  to  his  memory  and  to  the  memory  of  his  still  greater  successor, 
but  I  was  not  Shandean  enough  to  command  one.  You  know  I  never 
could  weep  except  when  insulted  and  stung  to  the  heart  by  those 
whose  unkindness  I  could  not  or  would  not  resent,  and  then  the  tears 
I  dropped  were  those  of  grief,  rage,  hatred — in  short,  the  offspring  of 
any  passion  except  tenderness."  This  is  a  touch  of  self-portraiture 
worth  whole  chapters  of  retrospective  delineation. 

In  another  letter,  dated  October,  1824,  and  addressed  to  his  Uncle 
James,  we  meet  with  the  following  careful  sketch  of  Dr:  McCrie : 
"  In  age  and  figure  I  know  not  where  to  point  out  any  one  who 
more  resembles  him  than  yourself.  His  countenance  is  pale  and  ex- 
pressive, and  his  forehead  deeply  marked  with  the  lines  of  thought ; 
the  spareness  of  his  habit  reminded  me  of  long  study  and  deep  re- 


360  HUGH     MILLER. 

search,  and  his  demeanor,  at  once  humble  and  dignified,  finished  the 
portrait.  You  may  doubt — when  I  tell  you  that  the  discourse  he  that 
day  delivered,  was  one  of  the  "best  I  ever  heard — that  my  partiality 
blinded  me  to  its  defects.  This  was  not  the  case ;  for,  though  partial 
to  the  doctor,  it  was  his  superior  talents  that  made  me  so,  and  had 
his  discourse  been  of  that  dull,  commonplace  kind,  which  I  have  often 
heard  in  a  church  that  shall  be  nameless,  my  disappointment  would 
have  been  great  in  proportion  to  my  expectation.  I  need  not  tell 
you  that,  as  an  historian,  Dr.  McCrie  ranks  very  high.  At  a  time 
when  every  witling  thought  himself  licensed  to  ridicule  the  firmness 
or  denounce  the  boldness  of  the  Reformers  of  our  religion,  the  doctor 
stood  forth  in  their  defense,  and,  endowed  with  powers  equal  to  the 
task,  dispersed  the  dark  cloud  of  obloquy  in  which  partial  or  design- 
ing men  had  enveloped  their  names.  If  we  consider  him  as  a 
preacher,  he  will  appear  in  a  light  as  favorable.  His  manner  is  calm 
yet  impressive,  and  his  sentiments  (always  beautiful,  and  ofttimes 
highly  original)  are  conveyed  in  language  strong  and  nervous,  yet  at 
the  same  time  plain  and  simple.  In  short,  Dean  Swift's  definition 
of  a  good  style,  '  proper  words  in  their  proper  places,'  can  be  very 
well  exemplified  in  his.  I  have  now  heard  him  several  times.  One 
Sunday  his  voice,  which  is  not  naturally  strong,  was  nearly  drowned 
by  loud  and  continued  coughing,  which  arose  from  every  corner  of 
the  church.  For  some  time  he  went  on  without  any  seeming  embar- 
rassment, but  just  when  in  the  middle  of  an  important  argument  made 
a  full  stop.  In  a  moment  every  eye  was  fixed  upon  the  doctor,  and 
such  was  the  silence  caused  by  this  attention  that  for  the  space  of  a 
minute  you  might  have  heard  a  pin  fall.  '  I  see,  my  brethren,  you 
can  all  be  quiet  enough  when  I  am  quiet,'  was  his  mild  and  somewhat 
humorous  reproof,  and  such  was  its  effect  that  for  the  remainder  of 
the  day,  he  received  very  little  interruption.  There  was  something 
in  this  little  incident  that  gave  me  much  pleasure.  I  thought  it  told 
more  truly  of  the  discernment  and  good  temper  of  the  doctor  than 
even  his  discourse  did,  beautiful  and  instructive  as  that  was." 

There  is  a  quiet  accuracy  in  this  portrait,  which  shows  that  Miller 
was  beginning  to  find  his  hand  as  a  master  of  English  prose.  In  our 
last  extract  he  appeared  in  the  light  of  a  philosopher  and  critic,  but 
we  are  reminded,  as  we  accompany  him  to  the  panorama,  that  he  has 
not  yet  thrown  off  the  boy. 

"  Upon  the  earthen  mound  where  the  good  people  of  Edinburgh  see 
shows  and  sights  of  all  descriptions,  from  the  smoking  baboon  to  the 
giant  of  seven  feet  and  a  half,  stands  a  circular  wooden  building, 
which  in  size  and  appearance  reminds  the  reader  of  Gulliver's  travels 
of  the  washing  tubs  of  Brobdignag.  In  this  building  all  the  pano- 
ramic scenery  which  is  painted  in  or  brought  to  Edinburgh  is 
exhibited.  The  battle  of  Trafalgar,  together  with  a  series  of  scenes 
representing  the  Emperor  of  France,  from  the  skirmish  of  Genappe 
till  his  death  in  the  solitary  island  of  St.  Helena,  was,  when  I  came 


PANORAMA    IN     EDINBURGH.  361 

here,  the  subject  of  exhibition.  Of  this  species  of  entertainment  I 
had  formed  no  idea,  and  willing  to  fill  up  the  blank  which  a  name 
unaccompanied  with  an  idea  leaves  in  the  mind,  and  perhaps  not  a 
little  urged  by  a  natural  fondness  for  sights  of  the  amusing  descrip- 
tion, I  left  my  work  one  evening  about  an  hour  sooner  than  usual, 
called  upon  my  friend,  Will  Ross,  as  I  passed  his  way,  and  accom- 
panied by  him  made  directly  for  the  panorama.  We  were  ushered 
into  a  darkened  gallery,  the  sides  and  ceiling  of  which  were  covered 
with  green  cloth.  Our  eyes  were  immediately  turned  toward  an 
opening  about  thirty  feet  in  width,  through  which,  by  a  striking 
illusion,  we  perceived  the  ocean  stretching  out  for  many  leagues  be- 
fore us,  and  upon  it  the  British  fleet,  commanded  by  Nelson  and 
CoRingwood,  bearing  down  a  double  line  upon  the  enemy,  who,  at  a 
little  distance,  in  the  form  of  a  crescent,  seemed  to  await  their  com- 
ing. Not  even  in  a  camera  obscura  have  I  seen  any  thing  so  natural. 
The  sun  seemed  beaming  upon  the  water;  the  British  pennant  was 
unfolding  to  the  wind ;  the  vessels  appeared  as  if  gently  heaving  to 
the  swell,  while  upon  their  decks  all  was  bustle  and  activity.  The 
marines  were  loading  their  muskets ;  the  seamen  were  employed 
about  the  great  guns ;  some  of  the  officers  were  busied  in  giving 
orders,  and  others,  with  great  anxiety,  were  looking  through  their 
glasses  as  if  to  catch  every  movement  of  the  enemy.  In  truth,  the 
deception  was  so  complete  that,  forgetting  the  ground  upon  which  I 
stood,  I  fancied  myself  just  on  the  eve  of  a  great  battle,  and  felt  my 
mind  impressed  with  that  indescribable  emotion  which,  in  the  reality 
of  such  a  circumstance,  the  young  soldier  always  feels.  This  scene 
was  soon  changed,  and  in  its  place  another  represented  which  dis- 
played all  the  terrible  confusion  of  the  engagement.  The  first  only 
showed  us  the  cloud  that  concealed  the  storm ;  here  it  was  repre- 
sented as  if  bursting  in  its  full  fury.  It  was  the  deck  of  the  *  Vic- 
tory,' as  it  appeared  at  the  moment  Nelson  received  his  death  wound. 
You  will  have  some  idea  of  the  size  of  the  picture  when  I  tell  you 
that  there  were  above  two  hundred  figures,  all  as  large  as  life,  at 
once  under  my  eye.  In  the  middle  of  these  was 'Nelson  ;  the  sword 
was  falling  from  his  hand  ;  his  features  were  distorted  as  if  by  sudden 
and  acute  pain ;  and  the  pale,  cadaverous  hue  of  his  countenance  be- 
tokened speedy  dissolution.  The  attention  of  the  figures  nearest  him 
seemed  to  be  entirely  engrossed  by  his  fall ;  an  anxious  expression  of 
the  countenance  or  a  sudden  turn  of  the  head  showed  that  those  at  a 
greater  distance  had  some  faint  perception  of  what  had  happened, 
while  others  in  the  outskirts  of  the  picture  were  busied  in  working 
the  guns,  or  in  supplying  those  who  wrought  them  with  ammunition. 
A  few  paces  from  Nelson  a  young  officer  was  eagerly  pointing  out  to 
a  marine  the  main-top  of  one  of  the  vessels  with  which  the  'Victory* 
was  engaged,  from  which  the  fatal  bullet  was  supposed  to  have  come, 
and  he,  with  great  deliberation,  was  leveling  his  musket  in  that  direc- 
tion. The  third  scene  was  of  a  terrific  description.  It  represented 


362  HUGH    MILLER. 

the  battle  as  if  drawing  near  its  close.  In  the  foreground  was  the 
'  Redoubtable,'  a  French  ship-of-the-line,  on  fire.  The  flames  were 
bursting  out  furiously  from  window  and  gun-port,  tinging  the  waves 
below  with  a  red  and  fiery  glare.  Some  of  the  crew  were  seen 
throwing  themselves  overboard  ;  while  others,  with  despair  depicted 
on  their  countenances,  were  clinging  to  the  vessel's  sides  as  if  uncer- 
tain which  death  to  choose.  The  fourth  and  last  scene  was  of  a  calm, 
but,  though  it  represented  the  hour  of  victory,  of  a  gloomy  character. 
In  the  distance,  a  few  of  the  fugitive  vessels  were  seen  giving  their 
broadside  and  crowding  on  every  sail  to  expedite  their  flight.  In  the 
foreground,  all  was  desolation.  Dismasted  and  shattered  vessels,  huge 
fragments  of  rigging  to  which  a  few  shivering  wretches  still  clung, 
and  a  sun  again  shining  through  a  clearing  atmosphere  on  the  mad- 
ness and  the  misery  of  man,  made  this  scene,  like  the  last  of  a 
tragedy,  by  far  the  saddest." 

From  the  panorama  he  turns  to  the  theater.  Much  of  his  reading, 
he  says,  had  been  of  a  description  approved  by  Uncle  James,  but  he 
had  read  more  plays  and  novels  than  would  have  been  sanctioned  by 
that  stern  moralist. 

"  When  reading,"  he  says,  "  the  plays  of  Shakespeare  or  of  Otway, 
of  Rowe  or  of  Addison,  I  saw  with  the  mind's  eye  their  heroes  not 
as  actors,  but  as  men  ;  and  the  scenes  they  described  brought  to  my 
view  not  the  painted  scenes  of  the  stage,  but  the  real  face  of  nature, 
in  the  same  manner  that  a  beautiful  portrait  gives  us  the  idea  of  a 
real  person,  not  of  a  mask.  But  when  I  saw  men  who  neither  in  ap- 
pearance nor  reality  came  up  to  the  idea  I  had  formed  of  the  charac- 
ters they  represented,  I  rated  them  in  the  bitterness  of  my  soul  as 
mere  pretenders  who  could  not  act  their  part  upon  the  stage  so  well 
as  common  men  do  the  parts  assigned  them  in  the  great  drama  of 
life."  In  his  letter  to  Baird,  he  says:  "  I  was  more  pleased  with  the 
panorama  than  with  the  theater.  I  several  times  attended  the  the- 
ater, but  I  did  not  derive  from  theatrical  representation  half  the 
pleasure  I  had  anticipated.  I  was  displeased  with  both  actors  and 
the  stage.  The  stage  I  now  regard  as  merely  a  little  area  floored  with 
fir  deal  and  surrounded  by  painted  sheets — the  actors  as  a  company 
of  indifferent-looking  people  who  could  bear  no  comparison  with 
either  the  ideal  dramatis  persona  of  my  imagination,  or  the  real 
characters  whom  I  had  seen  acting  their  parts  in  the  great  drama  of 
life.  On  the  evening  I  first  sat  in  the  Theater  Royal  of  Edinburgh, 
I  felt  as  if,  after  having  admired  an  exquisite  portrait,  which  the  art 
of  the  painter  had  almost  awakened  into  life,  I  should  be  asked 
whether  I  could  not  recognize  the  original  of  it  in  an  inanimate  image 
of  wax. ' ' 


NIDDRIE    HOUSE.  363 


NIDDRIE  AND   THE  WORKMEN — MILLER    PREJUDICED    BY    THEM  AGAINST 

THEIR    CLASS. 

Miller  soon  found  employment  in  his  trade,  near  Edinburgh,  in 
building  an  addition  to  Niddrie  House.  To  give  ourselves  a  vivid 
idea  of  the  locality,  exactly  as  it  impressed  itself  upon  him  at  the  time, 
we  avail  ourselves  of  his  own  description,  December,  1824: 

"We  shall,  if  you  please,  ascend  the  highest  pinnacle  of  Niddrie 
House,  and  from  thence  survey  the  country.  As  far  as  the  eye  can 
reach  in  an  east  or  southerly  direction,  a  low,  unvaried  flat  presents 
itself,  gradually  rising,  as  it  recedes  from  the  sight,  into  low,  swelling 
hills,  and  falling  with  a  sweep  as  gradual  toward  the  Frith  of  Forth, 
which  from  this  elevation  appears  in  all  its  extent,  glittering  with 
many  sails.  Upon  the  north  and  west  the  face  of  the  country  is  of  a 
bolder  character.  Arthur's  Seat  and  Salisbury  Crags  upon  the  one 
hand,  and  the  blue,  heathy  Pentland  hills  upon  the  other,  will  remind 
us  of  the  beautiful  and  picturesque  scenery  which  surrounds  our  native 
town.  .  .  To  the  grounds  about  Niddrie,  my  work  gives  me  access. 
Often,  in  the  fine  summer  evenings,  have  I  sauntered  through  its  fields 
and  woods,  alone,  but  not  solitary,  watching  the  last  beam  of  the  sun 
as  it  tinged  with  a  purple  hue  the  Pentland  hills,  or,  as  it  streamed 
on  the  roofless  walls  and  dismantled  turrets  of  Craigmillar  Castle. 
.  .  .  Niddrie  House  is  a  large,  irregular  building,  bearing  date  in 
one  part  1636,  and  in  another  not  yet  finished.  The  modern  addi- 
tion will,  when  the  winter  storms  of  a  few  years  have  soiled  the 
natural  hue  of  the  stone,  and  rounded  the  angular  moldings,  appear 
by  far,  the  most  antique,  as  it  is  executed  in  the  heaviest  style  of  the 
Saxon  Gothic.  The  large,  mullioned  windows  are  crowned  with  rich 
labels,  and  the  walls  deeply  indented  with  molded  embrasures.  Oc- 
tagon turrets  rising  above  the  roof,  project  from  every  corner,  and 
instead  of  those  large  stacks  of  chimneys  which  disfigure  many  modern 
houses,  here  every  one  has  its  own  airy  column  connected  at  top  to 
the  rest  by  a  star-like  cope.  When  finished,  you  might  suppose  this 
building,  from  its  antique  appearance  and  secluded  situation,  to  have 
been  some  nunnery  founded  by  that  church-endowing  monarch,  David 
I.  Adjoining  the  house  is  a  large  garden,  which,  from  its  irregular 
and  partial  cultivation,  differs  very  little  in  appearance  from  the  sur- 
rounding pleasure-grounds.  In  that  corner  of  it  which  lies  nearest 
the  north-west  gable  of  the  house  is  a  vault  in  which  the  Wauchopes 
of  Niddrie,  time  immemorial,  have  been  interred.  Its  front  is  screened 
by  a  huge  bush  of  ivy,  which,  overshading  the  door  and  twining 
about  a  sepulchral  urn  that  rests  directly  above,  gives  the  whole  a 
gloomy,  yet  picturesque  appearance.  Death  does  not  move  the  bodies 
of  the  proprietors  of  Niddrie  far  from  the  house  which  sheltered  them 
when  living;  the  dead  Laird  in  his  vault  is  not  thirty  feet  distant 
from  the  living  one  in  his  bedchamber.  Bounding  the  other  extremity 


364  HUGH     MILLER. 

of  the  garden  is  a  burying-ground,  in  which  the  humbler  inhabitants 
of  the  country  and  village  adjacent,  find  their  last  resting-place.  It 
is  a  solitary  spot,  embosomed  in  wood,  and  at  a  considerable  distance 
from  any  house.  These  circumstances,  which  in  the  north  country 
would  make  a  burying-ground,  after  night-fall,  the  supposed  haunt  of 
restless  spirits,  here  affords  the  violator  of  sepulchers  opportunity  to 
tear  from  its  grave  the  newly  deposited  body,  and  to  convey  it  to 
some  of  the  dissecting-rooms  about  Edinburgh.  Such  is  the  barbar- 
ous audacity  of  these  wretches,  that  they  frequently  break  and  over- 
turn monuments  which  lie  in  their  way;  and,  without  any  desire  of 
concealing  their  depredations,  leave  the  violated  graves  half  open,  and 
scatter  around  them,  as  if  in  derision,  the  cerements  that  wrapped 
the  body.  I  hope  I  am  not  bloodthirsty,  yet  I  think  I  could  level  a 
musket  at  the  villain  who  robbed  the  tomb  of  the  body  of  one  of 
my  relatives,  with  as  much  composure  and  with  as  little  compunction 
as  I  would  feel  in  taking  aim  at  a  wooden  target. 

"The  house,  or  rather  cottage,  in  which  I  at  present  lodge  stands 
upon  the  side  of  the  Dalkeith  road.  It  is  sheltered  on  the  north  and 
west  by  the  Niddrie  woods,  and  on  the  east  fronts  a  wide  though  not 
diversified  prospect  of  corn-fields  and  farm-steadings.  From  the  door, 
at  night,  through  a  long,  wooded  avenue,  I  see  the  Inchkeith  light 
twinkling  in  the  distance,  like  a  star  rising  out  of  the  sea." 

With  the  peace  and  beauty  of  nature  around  him,  and  Edinburgh 
at  hand,  his  circumstances  might  at  first  sight  be  pronounced  favor- 
able. 

There  was,  however,  a  very  important  drawback.  It  was  a  serious 
misfortune  to  Miller,  and  one  which  left  deep  traces  of  its  injurious 
influence  upon  his  mind,  that  the  men  in  company  with  whom  he 
worked  at  Niddrie  were,  for  the  most  part,  dissolute  and  worthless. 
Nor  were  the  exceptions  of  a  kind  likely  to  inspire  him  with  any  en- 
thusiasm for  the  order  to  which  he  provisionally  belonged.  They 
were  men  of  strong  religious  sentiments,  but  narrow  intellects,  unable, 
save  by  the  silent  eloquence  of  their  moral  superiority  to  the  rest  of 
the  squad,  to  make  any  impression  either  upon  him  or  upon  their 
comrades.  The  others  were  as  bad  specimens  of  their  class  as  it  is 
possible  to  conceive.  Selfish  and  willful  as  spoiled  children,  brutishly 
sensual,  flippantly,  because  ignorantly,  infidel,  habitually  profane, 
they  showed  Miller  how  base  a  thing  a  working-man  can  be,  and 
to  his  dying  day  his  opinion  of  working-men  retained  the  stamp 
which  it  received  in  the  society  of  these  reprobates.  Owing  to  the 
building  mania,  which  was  at  its  height  at  this  time,  they  had 
abundance  of  work  and  high  wages  ;  but  they  were  mean  enough  to 
be  jealous  of  the  workmen  from  the  North,  and  Miller  found  himself 
exposed  to  the  thousand  nameless  vexations  which  spiteful  cunning 
can  suggest  to  mechanics  wishing  to  subject  a  comrade  to  humilia- 
tion. It  is  often  necessary  for  a  stone-cutter,  in  order  to  have  the 
block  which  he  hews  placed  conveniently  for  the  chisel  and  mallet, 


WORTHLESS     FELLOW -WORK  MEN.  365 

to  be  assisted  by  his  fellow- workmen.  This  customary  civility  was 
refused  to  Miller,  whose  pride  prevented  him  from  begging  a  favor, 
or  complaining  of  its  being  tacitly  refused.  The  ablest,  and,  except 
himself  and  the  religious  workmen,  the  best  in  the  squad,  was  a  young 
man  whom  he  calls  "  Cha."  He  was  the  "  recognized  hero  "  of  the 
band,  and  his  heart  seems  to  have  smote  him  on  account  of  the  base 
combination  against  a  stranger.  He  put  an  end  to  it  by  stepping  out 
one  day  to  assist  Miller,  when  he  was  being  left  to  roll  up  to  his 
block-bench  a  stone  of  the  size  which  two  or  three  commonly  united 
to  place. 

Even  Cha,  however,  was  not  merely  a  blackguard,  but,  in  all  that 
relates  to  moral  sanity  and  self-respecting  manhood,  a  fool.  Like 
the  majority  of  his  fellows,  he  celebrated  the  fortnightly  payment  of 
wages  by  two  or  three  days  of  drunkenness  and  debauchery. 

At  first  hated  as  an  intruder,  and  ridiculed  as  a  Highlander,  Miller, 
being  found  to  be  not  only  capable  of  holding  on  his  own  path,  but 
superior  in  the  valued  accomplishments  of  swimming,  leaping,  running, 
and  wrestling,  rose  into  something  like  popularity  among  his  fellow- 
workmen.  It  was  impossible,  however,  that  between  him  and  them 
there  could  be  any  communion  ;  and,  tacitly  accepting  these  sixteen 
masons  of  Niddrie  as  representatives  of  their  class,  he  acquired  a  pro- 
found distrust,  sharpened  and  embittered  by  contempt,  for  workmen 
in  general.  It  can  not  be  denied  that,  so  far  as  these  unfortunates 
were  concerned,  he  gave  working-men  a  fair  trial,  and  looked  candidly 
and  boldly  into  their  ways  and  habits.  He  permitted  himself  to  be 
carried  along  in  the  stream  when  the  masons  of  the  district  turned 
out  on  a  strike,  and  he  forced  himself  to  endure  one  or  two  dreary 
hours  in  accompanying  them  to  the  foul  subterranean  haunt  where 
they  enjoyed  the  sport  of  badger-beating.  Every  thing  he  beheld  in 
the  character  and  conduct  of  these  workmen  offended  his  higher 
nature.  They  were  too  far  below  him  to  exert  any  such  influence  as 
might  have  tempted  him  to  a  fellowship  with  them.  In  an  atmos- 
phere of  profanity,  sensuality,  and  the  most  coarse  and  sordid  selfish- 
ness, he  continued  an  Apollo  among  neat-herds,  pure,  proud,  and 
lofty-minded. 


THE   STONE-CUTTER'S   DISEASE — LINES  TO  SISTER  JEANIE — WRITES  AN 
ODE  ON  GREECE  AND  OFFERS  IT  TO  THE  "  SCOTSMAN." 

Miller,  after  working  two  seasons,  returned  from  Edinburgh  in  un- 
broken spirits.  Whatever  the  drawbacks  of  his  Edinburgh  sojurn, 
he  had  never  ceased  to  be  happy,  and  his  mood,  as  we  learn  from  an 
expression  used  in  a  letter  to  William  Ross,  had  commonly  been  that 
of  exuberant  gayety.  But  one  circumstance  connected  with  his  work 
while  at  Edinburgh  now  comes  into  view,  to  which  it  is  impossible 
to  refer  without  mournfulness.  While  the  young  journeyman,  so 


366  HUGH     MILLER. 

brave  of  spirit,  so  modestly  content  with  his  exile  from  the  society 
he  was  fitted  to  adorn,  was  cutting  blocks  into  pillars  in  the  shed  at 
Niddrie,  the  seeds  of  painful  and  ineradicable  disease  were  being 
sown  in  his  constitution.  The  hardships  of  his  apprenticeship  had 
brought  him  to  the  gates  of  death,  and  although  he  seemed  to  have 
recovered  his  strength,  it  is  probable  that  his  lungs  were  of  less  than 
the  average  vigor  when  he  entered  as  a  journeyman  upon  the  occu- 
pation of  stone-hewing.  In  two  seasons  he  became  so  deeply  affected 
with  "the  stone-cutter's  malady,"  that  he  had  to  choose  between 
throwing  himself  loose  for  a  season  from  his  employment  and  certain 
death.  "So  general,"  he  says,  "is  the  affection,  that  few  of  our 
Edinburgh  stone-cutters  pass  their  fortieth  year  unscathed,  and  not 
one  out  of  every  fifty  of  their  number  ever  reaches  his  forty-fifth." 

For  the  first  month  or  two  after  his  return  to  Cromarty,  he  deemed 
it  probable  that  his  illness  had  gone  too  far  for  recovery.  "  I  still 
remember" — these  are  his  words — "the  rather  pensive  than  sad  feel- 
ing with  which  I  used  to  contemplate,  at  this  time,  an  early  death, 
and  the  intense  love  of  nature  that  drew  roe,  day  after  day,  to  the 
beautiful  scenery  which  surrounds  my  native  town,  and  which  I  loved 
all  the  more  from  the  consciousness  that  my  eyes  might  so  soon 
close  upon  it  forever."  It  was  at  this  time  that  he  composed  the 
lines  "To  Jeanie."  The  little  girl  of  five,  to  whom  he  addressed 
them,  was  his  mother's  eldest  daughter  by  her  second  marriage. 
With  that  gentleness  which  ever  characterized  him,  he  made  friends 
with  Jeanie,  and  led  her  by  the  hand  in  his  quiet  walks.  The  lines 
are  in  Scottish  dialect,  of  which  Miller  was  never  such  a  master  as 
Burns.  They  are  not  distinguished  by  power  or  originality,  but  are 
interesting  as  a  reflex  of  his  mood  at  the  time,  and  breathe — the 
closing  stanzas  especially — an  unaffected  and  artless  pathos : 

"  Though  to  thee  a  spring  shall  rise, 
An'  scenes  as  fair  salute  thine  eyes ; 
An'  though,  through  many  a  cludless  day, 
My  winsome  Jean  shall  be  heartsome  and  gay: 

"  He  wha  grasps  thy  little  hand 
Nae  langer  at  thy  side  shall  stand, 
Nor  o'er  the  flower-besprinkled  brae 
Lead  thee  the  lownest  an'  the  bonniest  way. 

"  Dost  thou  see  yon  yard  sae  green, 
Speckled  wi'  many  a  mossy  stane  ? 
A  few  short  weeks  o'  pain  shall  fly, 
An'  asleep  in  that  bed  shall  thy  puir  brither  lie. 

"  Then  thy  mither's  tears  awhile 
May  chide  thy  joy  an'  damp  thy  smile  ;  . 

But  sune  ilk  grief  shall  wearawa', 
And  I  '11  be  forgotten  by  ane  an'  by  a'. 


MILLER'S    FIRST    ADDRESS.  367 

"  Dinna  think  the  thought  is  sad; 
Life  vexed  me  aft,  but  this  male's  glad ; 
When  cauld  my  heart  and  closed  my  e'e, 
Bonny  shall  the  dreams  o'  my  slumbers  be." 

But  he  is  young,  and  though  his  lungs  have  been  permanently  and 
incurably  injured,  the  energy  of  his  constitution,  aided  by  repose  and 
by  peace  of  mind,  is  sufficient  for  the  present  to  conquer  the  disease. 
With  returning  health  return  his  interest  in  life  and  his  intellectual 
ambition. 

It  was  in  September  of  1826  that  Hugh  Miller  made  his  first 
attempt  to  address  his  countrymen  in  the  columns  of  a  newspaper. 
He  wrote  an  "Ode  on  Greece,"  which  is  hardly  above  the  average 
standard  of  juvenile  compositions,  though  here  and  there  a  vigorous 
note  breaks  through,  echoed  from  Byron. 

How  this  trumpet -blast  might  have  influenced  the  Greeks  we  can 
not  tell.  The  editor  of  the  "Scotsman"  proved  a  Trojan  on  the 
occasion,  and  Miller's  Ode  was  returned  upon  his  hands. 

Not  long  after,  Hugh  refers  to  the  subject  in  a  letter  to  Ross,  and 
bravely  decides  that  the  piece  might  not  have  been  worth  publishing 
after  all.  "Perhaps" — he  thus  expresses  his  philosophical  resigna- 
tion— "my  Ode  was  ill-timed;  perhaps  its  merits  are  of  so  doubtful 
a  kind  that  no  one  except  myself  can  discover  them ;  perhaps — but 
I  have  said  enough.  Why  should  I  be  a  seeker  after  fame?  Fame 
is  not  happiness;  it  is  not  virtue.  Bad  men  enjoy  it;  wretched  men 
attain  it.  It  rewarded  the  deeds  of  Erostratus  as  largely  as  those  of 
Leonidas."  With  equal  judiciousness  and  self-severity,  he  touches 
upon  his  efforts  in  the  way  of  mental  improvement.  "  It  is  the  re- 
mark of  a  celebrated  writer  that  without  long  and  serious  application 
no  man,  however  great  his  natural  abilities,  can  attain  the  art  of 
writing  correctly.  At  one  time  I  flattered  myself  with  the  hope  of 
becoming  a  correct  writer;  and,  with  the  intention  of  applying 
myself  sedulously  to  the  study  of  the  English  language,  I  collected 
several  works  that  treated  of  grammar  and  composition.  Besides 
these  helps  I  also  calculated  upon  the  assistance  of  my  friend,  John 
Swanson.  But  though  repeatedly  warned  by  experience,  I  did  not 
calculate  upon  that  volatility  of  mind  which  I  have  ever  found  as  diffi- 
cult to  fix  upon  any  single  object,  whatever  may  be  its  importance, 
as  to  fix  quicksilver  on  an  inclined  plane;  and  now  I  can  look  back 
upon  my  half  attempt  at  becoming  an  English  scholar,  just  as  I  can 
upon  every  other  speculation  in  which  I  have  been  engaged.  I  see 
a  fine  foundation  laid,  but  no  superstructure.  I  still  propose,  how- 
ever, to  become  a  correct  writer,  but  it  must  be  in  the  manner  in 
which  Cowley  became  a  grammarian.  That  ingenious  poet,  speaking 
of  himself,  says:  'I  was  so  much  an  enemy  to  all  constraint,  that 
my  masters  could  never  prevail  on  me,  by  any  persuasion  or  encour- 
agement, to  learn  without  book  the  common  rules  of  grammar,  in 


368  HUGH     MILLER. 

which  they  dispensed  with  me  alone,  because  they  found  I  made  a 
shift  to  do  the  usual  exercise  out  of  my  own  reading  and  observation." 
In  a  letter  written  about  the  same  time,  we  have  sundry  remarks 
on  literary  subjects.  "You  ask  me  whether  I  now  read  Byron  or 
Ovid.  I  reply  in  the  affirmative.  I  do  read  every  work  of  ability 
that  falls  in  my  way,  whatever  the  opinions  or  intentions  of  their 
authors  were;  but  in  reading  these  works  I  always  strive  to  keep  in 
view  certain  leading  truths,  which  serve  as  tests  to  discover  and  sepa- 
rate sophistry  from  argument,  and  as  lights  to  dissipate  those  shades 
of  obliquity  which  are  cast  over  virtue,  both  by  its  artful  enemies  and 
injudicious  friends.  At  the  birth  of  our  Savior,  the  shrine  of  Apollo 
and  Delphi  spake  no  longer  with  its  mysterious  organs  of  what  was, 
or  of  what  was  to  come.  He  who  was  the  truth  had  come  into  the 
world,  and  every  oracle  of  lies  had  become  dumb.  At  His  death, 
the  veil  of  the  temple  was  rent  in  twain,  and  truth  was  no  longer  a 
mystery.  Thus,  by  His  powers  that  which  was  false,  and  that  which 
was  true,  became  alike  evident.  The  Gospels  are  still  in  our  hands, 
and  they,  like  Him  of  whom  they  speak,  silence  falsehood  and  dis- 
cover truth.  He  who  takes  up  the  writings  of  Byron,  Ovid,  or 
Moore,  or  any  of  the  many  writings  of  those  men  who  have  so 
fearfully  misapplied  the  talents  which  God  gave  them,  will,  if  im- 
pressed with  a  deep  sense  of  the  true  religion,  run  no  risk  of  being 
allured  and  led  astray  by  the  blandishments  of  vice.  But  what  can 
induce,  it  may  be  asked,  a  man  of  religious  principle  to  peruse  a  vol- 
ume in  which  he  must,  of  necessity,  come  in  contact  with  the  allure- 
ments of  vice ;  in  which  all  that  he  loves  will  be  made  to  appear  in 
its  least  lovely  form,  all  that  he  hates  or  has  to  fear  in  its  most  en- 
gaging and  dangerous?  To  this  I  would  reply  that  it  is  no  very 
honorable  safety  which  is  procured  by  flight.  Why  should  a  man 
who  stands  upon  the  advantage  ground  of  truth  and  virtue  yield  to 
the  emissaries  of  vice  and  error?  May  he  not,  as  did  Gideon  the 
son  of  Joash,  descend  into  the  camp  of  these  Midianites,  and 
listen  to  the  ominous  visions  which  perplex  them,  or  examine  the 
unsocial  sophistries  upon  which  they  have  founded  their  systems, 
or  expose  the  futility  of  the  vain  beliefs  upon  which  they  have 
founded  their  hopes?  But,  to  speak  in  plainer  language,  there  are 
many  advantages  which  may  be  derived  from  a  real  philosophical 
perusal  of  the  writings  of  these  men.  Many  of  them  were  endowed 
with  extraordinary  talents,  were  the  friends  of  civil  liberty,  and  ex- 
celled in  the  art  of  reasoning  and  of  writing  well.  I  can  not  read 
the  Essays  of  Hume  without  seeing  the  necessity  of  entrenching 
myself  behind  the  bulwarks  of  Christianity.  All  those  outworks 
which  are  raised  in  every  direction  around  these  bulwarks,  some  of 
them  by  mistaken  good,  and  others  by  designing  bad  men,  must  be 
forsaken ;  for  I  find  I  have  to  do  with  a  foe  who  can  lay  bare  the 
designs,  and  demolish  the  sophistries  of  the  designing  priest,  who  can 
crush  at  one  blow,  the  boasted  illuminations  of  the  enthusiast  and 


READS     BYRON,     HUME,     ETC.  369 

fanatic.  But  when  I  retire  within  the  citadel  of  Christianity,  I  see 
from  it  the  ingenious  philosopher  becoming  a  sophist,  the  powerful 
warrior  assailing  a  rock  of  adamant  with  a  battering  ram  of  straw  . 
.  .  The  'Don  Juan'  of  Byron  is  an  extraordinary  poem,  in  my 
opinion  ten  times  more  so  than  the  '  Hudibras '  of  Butler.  It  displays 
a  thorough  knowledge  of  human  character, — of  the  crimes  and  frail- 
ties of  mankind." 

"Feb.  20. — Since  I  conversed  with  you,  I  have  toiled  and  played, 
I  have  ate  and  drank,  walked  and  slept ;  I  have  been  happy  and  in- 
different, and — no,  not  sad.  And  now  I  am  again  with  my  friend; 
draw,  then,  your  chair  a  little  nearer,  and  I  shall  tell  you  of  my  toils 
and  amusements.  I  have  been  quarrying  at  Navity  shore  stones  for 
a  house  which  my  cousin,  Robert  Ross,  is  going  to  build,  and,  with  my 
uncles  and  cousins,  have  brought  home  several  boat-loads  of  them. 
You  remember  Navity  with  its  rough,  bold  shore,  steep  precipices 
and  sloping  braes,  so  I  need  not  tell  you  that  there  are  few  places 
where  he  who  labors  is  so  ready  to  forget  that  labor  is  a  curse.  Nor 
need  I  tell  you  how  pleasant  I  found  it  to  sweep  on  the  calm  wave,  in 
a  fine  frosty  morning,  past  the  rude  bays  and  steep  promontories  of 
the  Gallow  Hill,  or  how  grand  and  awful  the  wide  caverns,  rugged 
precipices,  and  wooded  brow  of  that  hill  appeared  when  our  boat 
crept  round  its  shores,  heavy  laden  in  a  clear  moonshine  night."  His 
amusements  are  principally  verse-making  and  solitary  walks. 

SERIOUS    THOUGHTS  —  CORRESPONDENCE     WITH     SWANSON  —  FREAKISH 
HUMOR — WRITING  IN  THE  OPEN  AIR CORRESPONDENCE  ON  RELIGION. 

In  a  tone  of  earnestness,  which  contrasts  strongly  with  his  reference 
to  religion  in  his  earlier  productions,  prose  or  verse,  Miller  exclaims  : 

"Hark!  wherefore  bursts  that  rapturous  swell? 

Why  are  the  night's  dark  shadows  riven? 
'  A  Saviour  sought  the  depths  o*  hell, 
That  such  as  thee  might  rise  to  heaven.' 

"My  cares,  my  hopes,  my  wishes  climb 

To  reach  that  friend  who  reigns  above  me ; 
Truth's  best  perfection  dwells  in  Him, 
And  He  has  sworn  to  aid  and  love  me." 

The  composition  of  these  stanzas  is  connected  with  a  revolution 
which  has  been  silently  transacting  itself  in  the  mind  and  character 
of  Hugh  Miller,  and  which  will  come  under  our  notice  as  we  review 
his  correspondence  of  this  period. 

We  have  seen  that  from  his  childhood  he  had  displayed  a  fine  na- 
tural disposition  ;  that  he  was  fearless,  unselfish,  affectionate.  Of  the 
baser  passions,  avarice  and  cruelty,  he  never  exhibited  a  trace ;  and 
of  that  leas  ignoble  passion  which  has  frequently  co-existed  with  high 
and  generous  attributes  of  character,  but  which  has  frequently  also, 
24 


370  HUGH     MILLER. 

as  in  Mirabeau,  Burns,  and  Byron, *made  wreck  of  the  palaces  of  the 
soul,  he  was  singularly  destitute.  The  extravagances  of  his  boyhood, 
the  pranks  of  a  wild,  free,  gipsying  life,  reaching  their  climax  of  wick- 
edness in  robbery  of  an  orchard  and  rebellion  against  an  uncle,  would 
not  be  regarded  even  by  a  morose  school  of  moralists  as  portending  a 
vicious  manhood.  The  lessons  which  he  received  from  Uncle  James 
and  Uncle  Sandy  had  sunk  deep  into  his  heart,  even  when  he  chafed 
under  their  inculcation ;  and  while  he  passed  through  the  severely 
salutary  discipline  of  his  apprenticeship,  his  feelings  toward  those 
admirable  men  had  gradually  settled  into  a  profound  and  filial  regard. 
As  we  mark  him,  therefore,  among  his  comrades  of  the  bothy  and  the 
shed,  we  are  struck  by  the  moral  nobleness,  the  virgin  purity,  which 
constantly  attend  him,  and  which  render  him  undefilable  by  the  foul- 
ness amid  which  he  moves.  But  religion  had  not  become  the  supreme 
influence  in  his  mind  ;  he  was  still — he  knew  it  himself,  and  his  friends 
knew  it — "in  the  camp  of  the  unconverted." 

On  returning  from  Edinburgh,  he  renewed  his  acquaintance  with 
John  Swanson,  and  the  closest  friendship  was  soon  established  between 
them.  Swanson  had  recently  thrown  up  a  growing  business  in  Cro- 
marty,  had  resolved  to  become  a  preacher  of  the  Gospel,  and  had 
proceeded,  shortly  after  the  renewal  of  his  intimacy  with  Miller,  to 
Aberdeen,  in  order  to  pursue  his  studies.  His  robust  and  healthful 
nature  was  aglow  with  the  impassioned  ardor  of  first  faith  and  first  love. 
"Oh  !  "  he  exclaims  to  Miller,  in  a  letter  dated  Aberdeen,  July,  1825, 
"I  pant  after  that  time  when  I  may  be  fully  assured  that  you  are 
traveling  toward  Zion  !  " 

In  September,  Swanson  again  writes,  and  still,  apparently  in  response 
to  hesitation  exhibited,  or  objections  started,  by  his  correspondent, 
insists  upon  the  plenitude  of  the  divine  mercy.  "  He  is  described 
as  holding  out  His  hands  all  day  long  to  a  rebellious  and  gainsaying 
people,  and  shall  we  impiously  dare  to  say  that  He  is  unwilling  to 
receive  any?  'Tis  true  there  are  mysterious  doctrines  in  the  Bible; 
'tis  true,  election,  etc.,  are  spoken  of;  but,  if  I  know  aught  of  the 
spirit  of  the  Scriptures,  these  were  never  meant  to  keep  a  returning 
sinner  back  from  God.  Indeed,  I  presume  we  often  mistake  this  very 
doctrine.  It  appears  to  me  not  as  intended  for  our  use  before  conver- 
sion, but  after  it.  It  seems  to  me  given  for  the  support  and  consola- 
tion of  the  saints,  and  not  as  a  question  for  the  returning  penitent. 
We  never  hear  of  the  Apostles  making  use  of  such  expressions  as 
these  to  an  inquirer:  'It  may  be,  you  are  not  elected.  It  may 
be,  though  you  tell  us  you  believe,  you  are  deceived.'  But  we 
find  them  asking  this  question,  '  Dost  thou  believe  ?'  Believe  what  ? 
That  Jesus  is  the  Christ.  And  I  ask  you,  my  dear  Hugh,  dost  thou 
believe  ?  Do  you  believe  that  he  lived  ?  that  he  was  the  Sent  of  God  ? 
that  he  died  to  save  sinners?  I  know  that  thou  believest.  Well,  is 
your  life  and  conversation  corresponding  to  this  belief?  Do  you 
pray?  read  the  Scriptures?  obey  the  injunctions  of  Christ?" 


CORRESPONDENCE    WITH    SWANSON.  371 

Miller,  however,  is  shy  of  coining  to  close  quarters.  In  a  letter  of 
1 8th  November  he  takes  a  sportive  tone,  and  chats  lightly  on  miscella- 
neous matters. 

But  Swanson  is  in  a  mood  far  too  earnest  to  be  pleased  with  Miller's 
light  humor,  and  he  gently  rebukes  his  levity.  He  returns  at  once 
to  his  point,  and  puts  the  direct  question,  "  Have  you  made  your 
peace  with  God?"  Hugh  can  now  fence  no  longer.  He  confesses 
that  he  had  been  prevented  from  responding  to  his  friend's  appeals 
by  a  "backward,  mistrustful  pride  and  bashfulness."  In  simple- 
hearted  reliance  on  the  friendliness  of  a  correspondent  who  justified 
the  confidence  reposed  in  him,  he  gives  an  account  of  himself.  "At 
times  I  have  tried  to  pray.  At  times  I  have  even  thought  that  these 
prayers  were  not  in  vain.  I  have  striven  to  humble  my  proud  spirit 
by  reflecting  on  my  foolishness,  my  misery  and  guilt.  I  have  thought 
to  be  reconciled  to  that  God  who,  in  his  awful  justice,  has  doomed 
the  sinner  to  destruction,  yet  who,  in  his  infinite  mercy,  has  found 
out  a  way  of  redemption  ;  but  I  am  an  unsteady  and  a  wavering  crea- 
ture, nursing  in  my  foolishness  vain  hopes,  blinded  by  vain  affections ; 
in  short,  one  who,  though  he  may  have  his  minutes  of  conviction  and 
contrition,  is  altogether  enamored  of  the  things  of  this  world,  and  a 
contemner  of  the  cross." 

The  letter  in  which  this  passage  occurs  is  dated  December,  1825. 
About  this  time  Swanson  becomes  so  absorbed  in  his  studies  that  he 
finds  it  impossible  to  devote  time  to  correspondence,  and  he  writes 
Miller  briefly,  on  the  I4th  of  January,  1826,  to  that  effect.  "Go  on, 
my  dear  Hugh,"  he  says,  in  reference  to  the  chief  subject  on 
which  they  had  exchanged  thoughts,  "go  on,  and  the  Lord  himself 
will  bless  you.  If  you  are  not  under  the  teaching  of  the  Spirit  of 
God,  I  am  deceived,  and  if  I  do  not  find  you  soon  established  in  the 
way  of  happiness,  peace,  and  life,  I  shall  be  miserably  disappointed." 

One  can  not  help  remarking,  by  the  way,  that  this  correspondence  is 
creditable  to  these  young  friends.  "How,"  exclaims  Miller  in  one 
of  his  letters,  "  can  I  repay  you  for  that  deep,  that  generous  interest 
which  you  take  in  my  spiritual  concerns  !  How  can  I  make  a  suitable 
return  for  a  friendship  which,  unlike  the  cold,  selfish  attachments  of 
earth,  approaches,  in  its  nature  and  affectionate  disinterestedness,  to 
the  love  of  heaven  ?  Perhaps  I  say  too  much,  I  am  certain  you  think 
so,  but  with  a  heart  so  full  a  wiser  man  could  hardly  say  less."  Mo- 
dest, noble,  kind-hearted  Hugh !  How  many  would  have  resented 
Swanson's  interference  in  affairs  which  jealous  pride  and  sensitive  in- 
dependence might  so  plausibly  allege  to  lie  solely  between  a  man  and 
his  Maker !  From  the  meanness  of  such  pride  and  the  bitterness  of 
such  independence,  Miller's  true  heart  guards  him  well.  He  is  deeply 
grateful.  Swanson,  for  his  part,  thrilling  with  joy  in  the  possession  of 
the  pearl  of  price,  yearns  to  share  the  treasure  with  his  friend,  and  to 
seal  their  friendship  with  the  seal  of  immortality. 

Pleased,  perhaps,  for  the   moment,  that  his  correspondence  with 


373  HUGH     MILLER. 

Swanson  should  take  a  less  earnest  turn,  Miller  recurs,  in  his  next 
letter,  to  his  vein  of  .light,  miscellaneous  writing. 

This  wild  and  buoyant  humor  was  not,  however,  constant  with  him. 
"You  seem,"  he  writes,  "to  have  been  in  low  spirits.  Are  you  also 
subject  to  those  strange  rises  and  falls  of  spirit  which,  without  any  assign- 
able cause,  make  your  humble  servant  happy,  miserable,  and  mad  by 
turns?  I  wish  the  college  session  over,  and  you  fairly  settled  at  your 
mother's  fireside.  I  am  really  vexed  on  seeing  you  determined  on 
killing  yourself.  Is  he  not  as  much  a  suicide  who  swallows  death  in 
the  form  of  a  mathematical  problem,  as  he  who  takes  an  ounce  of 
opium  ?  The  latter  is  certainly  the  easiest  way  of  getting  out  of  the 
world,  there  is  rro  pedantry  in  it."  Affecting  words,  when  read  in 
connection  with  the  history  of  Miller's  closing  years  !  How  little  did 
he  think,  while  rejoicing  in  the  freedom  of  the  hill-side  and  the  sea- 
shore, and  warning  his  friend  with  gentle  earnestness  not  to  overtask 
his  brain,  that  he  should  himself  yield  to  the  terrible  temptation,  and 
pay  the  penalty  with  his  life !  "  Happy  and  miserable  and  mad  by 
turns:"  the  expression  is  striking  and  strange. 

He  gives  a  somewhat  satisfactory  account  of  himself  to  his  cousin, 
William  Munro,  in  a  letter  dated  ist  of  May.  "  I  am  writing  at 
this  moment  in  the  open  air,  under  the  shade  of  a  honeysuckle.  The 
sun  is  peeping  through  its  leaves,  and  casting  upon  my  paper  spangles 
of  a  bright  hue  and  strangely  fantastic  form.  As  I  look  upon  them 
I  can  not  avoid  recognizing  a  picture  of  my  own  mind.  It  is  thus  its 
lights  and  shadows  blend  together.  A  little  cloud  has  passed  over 
the  sun,  and  my  page  has  become  dark  and  somber ;  and  is  it  not 
thus  that  my  fair  hopes  and  gay  imaginings  ofttimes  pass  away,  and 
leave  behind  them  a  cloud  of  darkness?"  This  picture  may  be  some- 
what high  wrought,  as  Miller  had  announced  to  William  Ross  his  in- 
tention to  send  his  cousin  "a  fine  sentimental  letter,  resembling  that 
of  a  boarding-school  miss." 

On  the  2d  of  September,  Miller  writes  to  Swanson,  "  I  feel  that, 
after  your  earnest  and  affectionate  exhortation,  it  would  be  something 
worse  than  unfriendly  of  me  not  to  unbosom  myself  before  you;  yet 
what  have  I  to  confess  ?  Were  I  an  unbeliever,  though  I  would  as- 
suredly lose  my  friend  by  confessing  myself  one,  still  that  confession 
would  be  made.  I  would  scorn  to  hold  the  affections  of  any  one  by 
appearing  what  I  am  not.  Or  if,  on  the  other  hand,  I  were  a  Chris- 
tian in  the  true  sense  of  the  word,  I  hope  I  would  have  courage 
enough  to  avow  my  profession,  not  only  to  you  or  to  those  from  whom 
I  could  expect  nothing  except  kindness,  but  even  to  the  proudest  and 
boldest  scorner  But  what  profession  can  the  lukewarm  Laodicean 
make  ? — the  man  who,  one  moment,  is  as  assured  of  the  truth  of  the 
gospel  of  Christ  as  he  is  of  his  own  existence,  and  who,  in  another, 
regards  the  whole  scheme  of  redemption  as  a  cunningly  devised  fable. 
It  will  not  do  !  I  am  not  at  present  collected  enough  to  give  you  a 
faithful  account  of  what  is  my  religious  belief;  I  will  just  say  that,  as 


AN     AUTUMN     PICTURE.  373 

far  as  the  head  is  concerned,  my  creed  is  a  sound  one,  but  alas  for 
the  heart  !"  The  remainder  of  the  letter  accords  well  with  this 
profession  of  indifference,  or  at  least  of  vacillation  and  vicissitude, 
in  spiritual  affairs.  He  speaks  of  other  matters,  and  bewails  his  bash- 
fulness  in  society. 

Swanson  receives  this  letter  and  answers  the  same  day.  He  im- 
plores his  friend  to  get  rid  of  the  melancholy  which  preys  upon  his 
mind  by  a  "  full,  free,  and  simple  acceptation  of  the  gospel.  Pardon 
me,  my  dear  friend,"  he  adds,  "when  I  say  that  I  fear  you  have 
religious  opinions  not  derived  from  the  Bible.  Read  it  as  if  you 
never  heard  a  word  concerning  it  before."  On  the  3oth  of  Septem- 
ber, Miller  writes  again  :  "  I  am  still  employed  on  the  chapel  brae  in 

hewing  a  second  tombstone  for  Colonel  G .  That  spot  is  now 

beginning  to  lose  its  charms ;  every  breeze  which  passes  over  it  carries 
a  shower  of  withered  leaves  upon  its  wings  ;  the  herbage  is  assuming 
a  sallow  hue,  and  I  stand  alone  in  the  midst  of  desolation,  in  all  ex- 
cept sublimity  of  feeling  the  prototype  of  Campbell's  last  man.  I  do 
not  know  whether  I  am  advancing  in  wisdom  as  in  years  (I  rathej: 
suspect  not),  but  somehow  the  thought  of  death  often  presses  upon 
me  in  these  days.  I  look  upon  the  little  hillocks  which  are  laid 
above  men  and  women  and  children,  the  traits  of  whose  features 
are  pictured  in  my  memory,  and  when  by  its  aid  I  conjure  up  their 
forms  when,  gay  and  restless,  they  followed  the  businesses  or  the 
pleasures  of  life,  and  then  when,  in  the  eye  of  the  imagination,  I 
behold  them  stretched  in  the  dark  coffin,  cold,  and  black,  and 
moldy,  without  form  or  motion,  I  pause  and  ask,  What  is  this 
Death,  this  mighty  Death,  that  turns  mirth  to  sadness,  that  unnerves 
the  arm  of  the  strong  and  pales  the  cheek  of  the  beautiful  ? 

"I  remember  to  have  seen,  many  years  ago,  old  Eben,  the  sexton, 
digging  a  grave.  He  raised  a  coffin,  which,  though  much  decayed, 
was  still  entire,  and  placed  it  on  the  earth  he  had  thrown  out.  I 
was  a  mere  boy  at  the  time,  and  out  of  foolish  curiosity,  when  his 
back  was  turned,  I  raised  with  the  edge  of  his  spade  the  lid  of  the 
coffin.  The  appearance  of  the  moldering  remains  which  it  con- 
tained, nothing  can  erase  from  my  memory.  I  see  them  even  now 
before  me,  in  all  their  sad  and  disgusting  deformity,  and  still  when 
I  hear  or  read  of  the  empire  of  death — of  the  wrecks  of  death,  or 
of  the  change  which  death  works  on  the  human  frame — imagination 
immediately  reverts  to  a  long,  black  skeleton,  clothed  over  with  a 
moldy  earth  to  which,  in  some  places,  the  rotten  grave-clothes  are 
attached.  This  is  a  disgusting  image,  but  it  is  not  a  useless  one,  for 
when,  thinking  of  death,  I  bare  my  arm  and  look  at  the  blue  veins 
shining  through  the  transparent  skin — when  I  look  and  think  that 
the  day  may  not,  can  not,  be  far  distant  when  it  shall  become  as 
black  and  as  moldy  as  that  of  the  skeleton — I  start,  for  there  is 
something  in  the  contrast  which  removes  all  the  accumulation  of  com- 


374  HUGH    MILLER. 

monplace  which  the  habit  of  hearing  and  speaking  at  second-hand  of 
death  hath  cast  upon  that  awful  thing. 

"  But  what  is  the  fruit,  you  will  ask,  of  these  cogitations?  Follow 
me  a  little  farther  and  you  shall  see.  If  the  soul  be  a  mere  quality 
affixed  to  matter,  which  shall  die  when  that  matter  is  changed  from 
animate  into  inanimate,  then,  though  the  thought  of  the  havoc  which 
death  works  on  the  human  frame  tends  to  lower  the  pride  of  the 
haughty,  it  is  not  a  harassing  one  to  the  philosopher.  Life  is  full  of 
evil  and  unhappiness;  death  is  a  state  of  rest.  When  the  tyrant 
Edward  invaded  this  country ;  when  Wallace,  its  bravest  defender, 
was  betrayed  and  slain ;  when  the  carnage  of  Flodden  filled  Scotland 
with  mourning,  or  the  defeat  of  Pinkie  with  fear — I  was  neither  sad, 
nor  angry,  nor  afraid,  for  I  was  not  called  into  existence  until  twenty- 
four  years  ago.  And  in  a  few  years  after  this,  if  the  soul  be  not  im- 
mortal, I  shall  again  have  passed  (if  I  may  use  the  expression)  into  a 
state  of  non-existence,  and  though  my  moldering  remains  may  raise 
horror  in  the  breasts  of  the  living,  the  vacuum  which  once  existed 
shall  not  sympathize  with  them.  But  that  the  soul  is  immortal,  if  it 
be  the  same  wise  God  that  created  the  heavens  and  earth  who  formed 
man,  I  must  believe  ;  and  if  that  soul,  after  it  has  departed  from  its 
fleshy  nook,  is  to  be  punished  or  rewarded  according  to  the  deeds 
done  in  the  body — this  I  also  must  and  shall  believe ;  then  death 
becomes  not  the  herald  of  rest,  but  the  messenger  of  judgment.  Thus 
far  unassisted  reason  can  go.  Socrates  went  still  further,  for,  when 
other  philosophers  were  raving  of  an  absurd,  because  unattainable, 
virtue,  by  the  possession  of  which  men  were  to  be  made  happy  both 
in  this  world  and  the  next,  he  taught  of  the  evil  that  dwelleth  in  the 
human  heart,  and  of  the  help  which  cometh  from  God.  But  it  is  to 
the  pages  of  Revelation  we  must  turn,  if  it  be  our  desire  to  learn  with 
certainty  how  to  prepare  for  death  by  making  the  Judge  our  friend. 

"You  have  often  urged  me  with  a  friendly  zeal,  both  in  speech 
and  by  writing,  to  forsake  sin  and  turn  to  God.  Your  letters  and 
conversations  have  had  an  effect — I  wish  I  could  add  the  desired  one. 
I  give  some  of  my  time  'to  the  study  of  the  Scriptures,  and  have  become 
perhaps  nearly  as  well  acquainted  as  the  mere  theorist  can  be  w4th 
the  scheme  of  redemption.  Nay,  more,  I  pray.  But  the  day-beam 
has  not  yet,  I  am  afraid,  dawned  upon  me — the  light  vouchsafed  is 
not  a  clear  and  steady  one  like  the  beam  of  the  morning ;  it  is  rather 
like  the  reflection  of.  lightning  in  a  dark  night — a  momentary  glimpse 
succeeded  by  an  hour  of  gloom.  My  prevailing  disposition  is  evil, 
and  though  I  have  oftener  than  once  experienced  a  feeling  strange 
indeed  to  the  human  heart — a  feeling  of  love  to  God — the  cares  of 
the  world  and  the  allurements  of  pleasure  draw  away  my  affections, 
and  the  old  man  is  again  put  on. 

"  The  town  clock  has  struck  the  hour  of  twelve — so,  for  the  present, 
adieu  !  " 

Swanson  replies  on  the  pth  of  October. 


A    BOY     ATHEIST.  375 

A  month  elapses  before  Hugh  replies,  and  his  answer  has  none  of 
the  warmth  of  feeling  for  which  we  might  have  looked.  "  After 
perusing  your  last  letter,"  he  writes,  "I  sat  down  to  tell  you  that  I 
was  not  a  little  alarmed  by  your  recognizing  me  as, a  Christian  brother; 
I  then  stated  my  grounds  of  alarm  ;  and,  willing  to  furnish  you  with 
a  kind  of  data  by  which  you  would  be  enabled  to  judge  of  the  spiritual 
state  of  your  friend,  I  recommenced  a  historical  detail  of  the  fluctuat- 
ing opinions  of  my  mind  for  the  last  seven  years.  But  I  now  see 
that  a  narrative  so  long,  and  in  which  I  will  require  to  be  so  careful 
of  error,  will  engross  more  of  my  time  than  I  can  conveniently  de- 
vote to  it  at  present." 

The  "  historical  detail,"  here  referred  to,  in  so  far  as  it  appears  to 
have  ever  been  written  down,  is  contained  in  an  unfinished  letter, 
dated  October,  1826,  from  which  we  extract : 

"  I  know  not  in  what  words  to  confess  that  your  last  letter,  friendly 
and  affectionate-breathing  as  it  was,  alarmed  and  in  some  degree  ren- 
dered me  unhappy.  You  recognize,  you  address  me  as  a  Christian 
brother  ;  and,  when  I  look  within  and  see  how  doubtful  the  signs  of 
a  radical  change  of  heart  are,  when  I  see  how  little  there  is  to  justify 
even  the  limited  profession  I  made  when  I  last  addressed  you  by 
writing,  I  tremble  lest  you  are  throwing  away  your  affections  on  a 
deceiver,  who  is  now  even  less  worthy  of  your  friendship  than  when 
he  confessed  himself  a  stranger  to  Christ.  But  why  tremble  on  this 
account  ?  If  I  am  a  deceiver,  I  am  not  a  willful  one ;  for  the  hypo- 
crite only  trembles  when  detected  or  on  the  verge  of  detection,  and 
if,  by  mistaking  an  excited  imagination  for  a  changed  heart,  I  de- 
ceive both  my  friend  and  myself,  I  am  surely  rather  unfortunate  than 
guilty. 

"  I  believe  I  may  term  my  education  a  religious  one.  I  was  ex- 
amined in  the  Catechism  by  my  uncles  every  Sabbath  night,  and 
forced  to  attend  regularly  at  church.  This,  you  will  say,  is  a  poor 
definition  of  the  words  religious  education,  but  in  nine  cases  out  of 
ten  it  is  all  that  is  meant  by  them.  As  I  advanced  into  the  latter 
years  of  boyhood,  I  became  impatient  of  this  restraint,  and,  after  many 
struggles,  in  which  I  showed  a  fierceness  and  desperation  of  char- 
acter worthy  of  the  liberty  for  which  I  strove,  I  became,  as  some 
of  my  friends  satirically  termed  me,  a  lad  of  my  own  will.  As  a  lad 
of  my  own  will,  I  was  a  Sabbath -breaker,  and  a  robber  of  orchards  ; 
and,  as  strange,  foolish  thoughts,  passages  of  Scripture,  and  questions 
on  the  subject  of  religion  would  at  times  either  flash  upon  my  recol- 
lection or  rise  in  my  mind,  just  for  the  sake  of  peace,  I  also  became 
an  atheist.  A  boy  atheist  is  surely  a  strange  and  uncommon  charac- 
ter. I  was  one  in  reality,  for,  possessed  of  a  strong  memory,  which 
my  uncles  and  an  early  taste  for  reading  had  stored  with  religious 
sentiments  and  stories  of  religious  men,  I  was  compelled,  as  I  have 
already  said,  for  peace'  sake,  either  to  do  that  which  was  right,  or,  by 
denying  the  truth  of  the  Bible,  to  set  every  action,  good  or  bad,  on 


37°  HUGH     MILLER. 

the  same  level,  and  I  had  chosen  the  latter  as  the  more  free  and 
pleasing  way.  My  mind,  as  you  will  see  in  the  sequel  of  my  story, 
long  retained  the  bent  which  it  at  this  time  acquired  ;  but  my  actions, 
restrained  by  a  rising  pride,  by  notions  of  honor,  perhaps  by  a  con- 
science which,  though  fast  asleep,  had  its  dreams,  became  less  repre- 
hensible. I  became  what  the  world  calls  honest ;  and,  from  a  dislike 
of  drink  and  noisy  company,  had  all  along  preserved  a  habit  of 
sobriety,  but  to  every  other  vice  to  which  a  young  man  of  sixteen  is 
exposed,  I  was  addicted.  You  are  aware  that,  much  earlier  than  this, 
I  composed  pieces  in  rhyme,  which  I  called  poems.  One  of  the 
drawers  of  my  desk  is  filled  with  copies  of  these  youthful  effusions, 
which  I  preserve  both  for  the  sake  of  the  recollections  attached  to 
them,  and  for  the  history  I  can  trace  in  them  of  the  growth  of  my 
mind  and  its  varying  opinions. 

"About  the  end  of  the  year  1820,  I  had  a  fearful  dream,  which, 
for  the  time,  had  the  effect  of  converting  me  into  a  kind  of  believer — 
a  believer  of  I  knew  not  what.  I  dreamed  I  was  wandering  through 
a  solitary  and  desert  country;  that  I  was  alone,  restless,  and  un- 
happy. All  at  once  the  skies  became  dark  and  overcast,  and  a  gloom 
like  that  of  a  stormy  winter's  evening  seemed  to  settle  over  the  face 
of  nature.  By  one  of  those  changes  so  common  in  dreams,  the 
country  appeared  no  longer  unpeopled  ;  but  the  figures  I  saw  were  so 
dark,  so  indistinct,  so  silent,  that  in  my  terror  I  regarded  them  not 
as  men,  but  spirits  who  were  wandering  about  in  unhappiness  until  the 
time  came  in  which  they  were  to  reanimate  the  bodies  in  which  they 
once  dwelt.  A  fearful  presentment  arose  in  my  mind  that  the  day  of 
judgment  was  at  hand ;  I  felt  the  petrifying  influence  of  despair  per- 
vade every  faculty,  yet,  though  my  agony  was  extreme,  I  could  neither 
weep  nor  pray.  In  a  little  time  the  Clouds  began  to  disperse,  and 
through  a  clear  blue  opening,  I  perceive  a  large  cloudy  scroll  spread 
On  the  face  of  the  heavens,  which,  with  a  flickering,  undulating  mo- 
tion, at  one  moment  resembled  a  dark,  sulphureous  flame,  and  at 
another  reminded  me  of  a  banner  waving  in  the  wind.  I  fixed  my 
eyes  upon  it  in  fear  and  astonishment,  and  perceived  that  in  its  cen- 
tre a  few  dark  characters  were  inscribed.  I  strove  to  decipher  them, 
but  could  not.  In  a  few  seconds,  however,  the  coloring  of  the  scroll 
deepened  gradually,  as  the  hues  of  the  rainbow  increase  from  dimness 
to  brilliancy.  I  read  its  startling  motto,  '  Take  warning ! '  and 
awoke.  My  mind  was  dreadfully  agitated.  The  sweat,  which,  dur- 
ing my  dream,  had  flowed  from  every  pore,  was  cooled  upon  my 
brow,  but  my  heart  was  still  burning.  In  my  terror  I  vowed  that,  for 
the  future,  I  would  be  no  longer  a  sinner,  and  I  began  to  pray ;  but 
my  prayers  were  addressed,  not  to  the  God  of  the  Christian,  but  to 
the  God  of  the  heathen  philosopher.  I  was  awakened  to  a  painful 
consciousness  of  sin.  I  had  heard  that  God  was  merciful,  and  on 
the  strength  of  that  attribute  I  addressed  myself  to  him  ;  but  alas ! 
I  did  not  know  that  his  justice  is  as  infinite  as  his  mercy,  and  that 


A     DREAM     IMPRESSES     HIM.  377 

• 

no  sinner  can  be  accepted  by  him  unless  he  appeal  to  the  sufferings 
and  righteousness  of  that  Saviour  whom  his  sins  have  pierced. 

"The  recollection  of  my  dream  haunted  me  for  about  ten  days, 
during  which  time  I  prayed.  A  natural  bashfulness  withheld  me  from 
making  any  show  of  sanctity,  but  my  heart  was  very  proud  of  its 
newly  acquired  purity,  and  I  regarded  myself  as  a  much  better  man 
*han  many  of  my  acquaintances.  But  the  foundation  on  which  my 
hopes  were  raised  was  not  one  of  sand — a  sandy  foundation  would 
have  served  me  until  the  day  of  the  tempest,  whereas,  the  thin  vapor 
upon  which  I  had  built  sunk  of  itself  without  being  once  assailed. 
Suffice  it  to  say  that,  as  my  fears  subsided  and  my  pride  increased, 
my  prayers  became  more  and  more  a  matter  of  form,  until  at  length 
they  ceased  altogether,  and  except  that  I  believed  in  the  being  of 
a  God,  and  continued  to  see  a  beauty  in  moral  virtue,  I  became, 
in  thought  and  feeling  and  action,  the  same  man  I  had  formerly 
been. 

"  In  the  working  season  of  the  two  following  years,  I  wrought  and 
resided  at  Conon-side, — a  gentleman's  seat  and  farmsteadings,  situ- 
ated on  a  bank  of  the  River  Conon,  near  where  it  falls  into  the 
Cromarty  Frith.  When  there,  there  was  no  one  for  whose  good 
opinion  I  cared  a  pin  within  twenty  miles  of  me,  so  I  felt  myself  at 
liberty  to  do  or  say  whatever  I  thought  proper.  In  a  short  time,  I  be- 
came a  favorite  with  my  brother  workmen.  "  He  is  a  good-natured, 
honest,  knowing  fellow,"  they  would  say,  "but  desperately  careless 
of  church."  This  was  just  the  character  I  wished  to  bear;  as  for 
church  attendance,  I  thought  it  rather  a  dubious  virtue.  Indeed,  I  had 
seen  too  much  of  the  prejudices  of  mankind,  and  knew  too  little  of 
true  Christianity  to  think  otherwise. 

"  When  at  Conon-side,  I  had  an  opportunity  of  studying  several 
characters  of  the  grave,  serious  cast,  but  the  knowledge  of  them 

which  I  acquired  there  did  me  no  good.  One,  a  Mr.  M ,  was*a 

man  of  a  grave,  taciturn  humor,  whose  definition  of  the  word  '  Chris- 
tian '  would  be,  as  I  apprehended,  '  a  hearer  of  the  gospel  for  Mr. 
McDonald's  sake.'  He  was  exceedingly  reserved  and  unsocial  in  his 
manners,  and  little  loved  by  his  fellow-workmen.  Once  or  twice  I 
have  seen  him  grow  very  angry  when  some  parts  of  the  conduct  of 
his  favorite  preacher  were  censured, — censured,  too,  as  Ik  thought, 
with  reason.  There  was  another  of  the  workmen  with  whom  I 
wrought,  who  was  of  the  grave,  serious  cast.  He  contributed  quar- 
terly to  the  support  of  the  Bible  Society,  was  regular  in  his  attend- 
ance at  church,  and  reproved  swearing  or  indecent  language  every 
time  he  chanced  to  hear  it  among  his  companions.  But  it  did  not 
escape  my  observation  that  this  man  was  so  censorious  that  not  even 

his  brother  saint,  Mr.  M ,  was  exempted  from  the  severity  of  his 

animadversions,  and  so  proud  of  his  purity  of  life  that  the  errors  and 
misconduct  of  others  afforded  him  pleasure.  Perhaps  he  regarded 
them  as  foils  to  the  virtues  he  possessed. 


3?8  HUGH    MILLER. 

• 

"  Besides  these  two  there  were  some  others  who  made  a  profession 
of  religion  with  whom  I  became  partially  acquainted ;  but  the  tenor 
of  their  lives  was  ill-qualified  to  impress  my  mind  with  a  high  opinion 
of  the  sanctifying  influences  of  Christianity.  One  was  a  hard,  austere 
man,  of  obtuse  feelings,  who  seemed  determined,  whatever  he  thought 
of  the  world  to  come,  to  make  the  most  he  could  of  the  present ;  a 
second  was  silly  and  weak ;  and  a  third  was  what  I  termed  a  Sabbath- 
Christian — that  is,  one  who  attends  church,  calls  the  preacher  precious 
man,  can  tell  a  great  many  of  the  strange  legends  of  the  Scottish 
Church,  and  reprobates  the  poor  wretches  who  prefer  common  sense 
to  fanaticism.  And  are  these  men  Christians?  thought  I.  I  have 
often  heard  divines  bid  that  part  of  their  congregations  which  they 
termed  men  of  the  world  look  at  the  life  of  the  Christian,  and  grow 
convinced  of  the  power  and  truth  of  Christianity  by  that  example 
which  is  superior  to  precept.  I  have  obeyed  them.  I  have  observed 
his  actions,  and  through  these  actions  have  striven  to  discover  his 
motives,  and  what  have  I  found  ?  In  good  truth,  the  philosopher 
who  sees  clearly  that  he  who  believes  and  he  who  does  not  believe, 
only  differ  in  that  th£  one  practices  the  grave  and  the  other  the  gay 
vices  of  humanity,  may  well  laugh  at  the  pretensions  of  these  divines, 
and  tell  them  that  they  either  speak  of  they  know  not  what,  or  will- 
fully deceive  because  it  is  their  interest  to  do  so. 

"  I  remember  one  Sunday,  after  my  companions  had  gone  to 
church,  and  I  remained  behind,  as  was  my  custom,  that,  to  pass 
away  the  time,  I  took  a  solitary  walk  in  the  woods  of  Conon-side. 
The  day  was  pleasant,  but,  from  a  kind  of  nervous  melancholy  which 
hangs  pretty  often  on  my  spirits,  and  is,  as  I  believe,  constitutional, 
I  could  not  enjoy  it.  I  felt  quite  unhappy,  and  after  having  had  re- 
course to  every  species  of  wonted  amusement,  sat  down  on  a  green 
knoll,  in  despair  of  enjoying  solitude  for  that  day.  A  train  ot  the 
darkest  thoughts  began  to  rise  and  pass  through  my  mind.  I  looked 
upon  what  I  had  done  in  the  past,  I  thought  of  the  unhappiness  of 
the  present,  I  formed  surmises  of  the  future.  There  was  a  voice  from 
within  which  incessantly  whispered  in  my  ear,  '  You  are  doing  wrong ! 
you  are  doing  wrong  !  and  how,  then,  can  you  expect  pleasure? '  and 
so  miserable  did  I  feel  from  these  cogitations  and  these  questionings, 
that  I  started  from  my  seat,  and  strove  to  dissipate  them  by  strong 
bodily  exertion.  In  a  few  hours  after,  my  spirits  had  regained  their 
usual  tone,  and  I  could  look  back  upon  what  I  had  felt,  and  say, 
'  Have  I  experienced  what  men  call  an  awakened  conscience  ?  What, 
then,  is  conscience  ?  The  breast  of  the  murderer  and  the  dishonor- 
able, mean  man  may  well  be  the  haunts  of  remorse;  but  surely,  with 
one  who  neither  does  nor  wishes  any  man  ill,  conscience  is  but  the 
ashes  of  early  prejudices  raked  together  by  a  disordered  imagination.' 

"  In  the  latter  end  of  the  autumn  of  this  year  (1822)  I  wrought  and 
resided  at  Pointzfield  for  several  weeks.  My  constitution  is  naturally 
delicate,  and  by  building  in  stormy  weather  on  a  wet,  marshy  spot  of 


VIEWS     OF     HIMSELF.  379 

ground,  I  caught  a  severe  cold,  which  hung  about  me  for  several 
weeks ;  I  felt  my  strength  wasting  away ;  my  breast  became  the  seat 
of  a  dull,  oppressive  pain,  and,  imagining  I  was  becoming  consump- 
tive, I  began  seriously  to  think  of  death.  So  assured  was  I  at  this 
time  of  approaching  dissolution,  that  even  through  the  perspective  of 
hope  I  could  only  look  forward  on  a  few  short  months  of  life,  and,  as 
I  could  not  bring  myself  to  doubt  of  a  separate  existence  of  soul  or 
of  a  judgment  according  to  deeds  done  in  the  body,  I  began  seriously 
to  think  of  a  preparation  for  death.  But  how  was  this  preparation  to 
be  made?  I  knew  prayer  to  be  the  only  language  by  which  the  sin- 
ner could  intercede  with  the  Deity  for  pardon ;  but  then  experience 
had  shown  me  how  unable  I  was  of  myself  to  bring  my  mind  into  the 
frame  of  devotion,  or  to  preserve  that  frame  unchanged  when  it  was 
produced  by  fear,  disgust,  and  the  mingling  dictates  of  reason.  At 
length  I  bethought  me  of  an  expedient  which  I  hoped  would  preserve 
me  from  that  falling  off  or  apostatizing,  of  which  I  had  experienced 
two  years  before ;  for,  awakening  the  sincere  fervency  of  feeling 
which  my  expedient  was  to  render  lasting,  I  had  before  me  the  fear 
of  death.  For  the  three  previous  years,  when  I  had  freely  and  seri- 
ously pledged  my  word  in  a  matter  of  importance,  to  any  of  my 
brother  men,  I  had  a  pride  of  rigidly  adhering  to  it.  From  this  I 
concluded  that,  were  I  to  pledge  myself  to  God  by  oath,  I  would  have 
A  restraining  bond  upon  me  strong  enough  to  preserve  me  for  the 
future  from  known  sin.  I  would  thus  be  shut  up  by  every  principle 
of  honor  to  serve  God — of  loving  him  I  had  no  idea.  I  made  and 
took  my  vow  to  be  I  know  not  what,  called  God  to  witness  it,  and 
for  a  few  following  days  persisted  in  praying  twice  a  day.  But  prayer 
soon  became  an  irksome  duty ;  proud  thoughts  over  which  I  had  no 
control,  and  strong  desires  that  would  not  be  repressed  by  a  few 
light  words,  came  rushing  on  my  mind  in  a  mingled  torrent,  and 
swept  before  them  every  vain  resolve.  To  add  to  their  strength,  my 
health  began  to  amend,  and  tit  not  only  appeared  an  impracticable, 
but  even  a  foolish  thing  to  strive  any  longer  to  be  religious. 

"  I  passed  the  winter  of  this  year  and  the  spring  of  the  following 
one  at  home,  and  there  became  acquainted  with  an  old  companion  of 
my  uncles.  He  had  resided  at  Edinburgh  for  many  years,  and, 
though  a  clever,  was  neither  a  steady  nor  respectable,  man,  but  for 
the  sake  of  becoming  acquainted  with  his  character,  which  was  eccen- 
tric in  the  extreme,  I  courted  his  company  and  conversation.  At 
Edinburgh  he  had  been  a  member  of  one  of  those  deistical  clubs  so 
common  in  large  towns  ;  and,  by  a  natural  quickness,  and  from  the 
habit  of  speaking  at  their  meetings,  had  acquired  the  faculty  of  argu- 
ing extempore  with  a  good  deal  of  skill.  My  uncles,  whose  principles 
and  opinions  were  in  almost  every  particular  the  reverse  of  his,  im- 
pressed by  early  recollections,  still  continued  attached  to  him,  but,  as 
might  be  expected,  frequently  attacked  opinions  which  he  was  by  no 
means  slow  to  defend.  The  doctrine  of  predestination,  that  hobby-horse 


380  HUGH     MILLER. 

^ 

of  disputants,  was  brought  frequently  on  the  carpet,  as  was  also  the 
doctrine  of  universal,  as  opposed  to  partial,  redemption.  At  first  I 
merely  listened  to  these  verbal  controversies,  but  seeing  that  my 
uncles,  though  well-grounded  in  the  doctrines  of  Christianity,  were 
ill-qualified  to  answer  every  objection  raised  against  it  by  a  veteran 
quibbler,  out  of  a  desire  of  assisting  them,  I  set  myself  to  examine 
the  different  bearings  of  the  doctrines  they  defended.  Predestination 
first  engaged  me.  I  read  all  that  is  said  of  it  in  Scripture,  drew  con- 
clusions from  the  prescience  of  God,  and  from  Plato's  Dialogues  of 
Socrates,  and  some  other  philosophic  writers,  and  endeavored  to  pro- 
duce data  from  whence  to  show  that  predestination  is  not  a  doctrine 
peculiar  to  revealed  religion.  I  had  long  looked  upon  controversial 
divinity  as  the  worst  kind  of  nonsense ;  and  since  my  argumentative 
conversation  with  my  cousin  G.,  had  entertained  an  antipathy  against 
verbal  controversy  of  every  kind ;  this,  added  to  a  hesitating  manner 
of  speech,  and  a  consciousness  of  an  inability  to  preserve  my  ideas 
from  becoming  confused  when  I  waxed  warm  on  my  subject,  after  all 
my  preparation,  withheld  me  from  attacking  my  brother  deist. 

"  Had  any  one  told  me  at  that  time  that  I  was  in  reality  brother 
in  belief  to  a  deist,  I  would  have  complained  of  injustice.  In  fact, 
my  opinions  were  so  wavering  that,  with  a  due  regard  to  truth,  I 
could  not  tell  what  I  did  or  did  not  believe.  I  saw  there  were  two 
schools  of  deism — the  high  and  the  low.  Epicurus  of  the  ancient 
philosophers  and  Hume  of  the  modern,  men  who,  while  they  remained 
skeptical  on  the  subject  of  future  rewards  and  punishments,  and  of  the 
providence  of  God,  cherished  virtue  for  its  own  sake,  both  by  example 
and  precept,  I  regarded  as  members  of  the  first ;  while  I  looked  upon 
the  brood  of  half-bred  wits,  who,  with  Paine  at  their  head,  battled 
with  religion  because  it  gave  a  deeper  and  stronger  sanction  to  the 
laws  of  morality,  as  the  masters  of  the  second.  The  leaders  of  the 
former  I  consider  to  be  good,  wise  men  (indeed,  I  am  still  readier  to 
regret  their  defects  than  censure  them),  while  the  whole  body  which 
composed  the  latter  I  regarded  as  a  band  of  conspirators  against  all 
that  is  good  or  noble  in  human  nature.  I  looked  upon  the  Edinburgh 
deist  as  a  pupil  of  the  school  last  described  ;  indeed,  the  irregularity 
of  the  life  he  led  lent  this  opinion  a  strong  sanction. 

"The  more  I  thought  and  read,  the  more  wavering  and  unsettled 
my  opinions  became.  I  began  to  see  that  the  precepts  inculcated  by 
the  Christian  faith  are  equal  if  not  superior  in  purity  to  those  taught 
in  the  school  of  philosophy ;  but  then  the  strange,  mysterious  doc- 
trines which  mingled  with  these  precepts  had  in  them  something 
repulsive.  I  could  believe  in  many  things  which  I  did  not  under- 
stand ;  but  how  could  I  believe  in  things  evidently  not  beyond  the 
reach  of  reason,  but  directly  opposed  to  it  ?  I  could  believe  that  man 
is  either  a  free  agent,  or  chained  down  by  the  decrees  of  God  to  a 
predestined  line  of  conduct ;  but  how  could  I  believe  that  he  was  at 


DOCTRINES    OF    CHRISTIANITY.  381 

once  free  and  the  child  of  necessity?    And  yet  the  contradiction  (as 
it  appeared)  seemed  to  me  to  be  the  doctrine  of  the  Bible. 

"  I  regarded  the  main  doctrine  of  Christianity  as  one  of  those  which 
lie  not  beyond  the  reach  of  reason,  but,  as  I  have  said,  are  directly 
opposed  to  it.  How,  thought  I,  can  one  man  who  is  a  criminal  be 
pardoned  and  rewarded  because  another  who  is  none,  has,  after  mer- 
iting reward,  been  punished?  How  can  it  be  said  that  he  who  thus 
pardons  the  guilty  and  punishes  the  innocent  is  not  only  just,  but  that 
he  even  does  this  that  he  may  become  just  and  merciful  ?  It  appeared 
still  more  strange  than  even  this  that  the  only  way  of  becoming  virtu- 
ous was,  not  by  doing  good  and  virtuous  deeds,  but  by  believing  that 
Christ's  death  was  an  atonement  for  sin,  and  his  merits  a  fund  of 
righteousness  for  which  they  who  thus  believe  were  to  be  rewarded. 
Certainly,  thought  I,  if  the  Christian  religion  be  not  a  true  one,  it  is 
not  a  cunningly  devised  fable;  for  its  mysteries  are  either  not  far 
enough  removed  from  the  examination  of  the  rational  faculties,  or  too 
directly  opposed  to  the  conclusions  which  they  must  necessarily  form. 
The  mystery  of  the  Trinity  I  regarded  as  an  exception  to  this ;  the 
nature  of  God  is  so  little  known  to  man  that  I  could  neither  believe 
nor  doubt  it." 

In  this  abrupt  and  unsatisfactory  manner  the  document  ends.  It 
will  appear  in  the  sequel  that  evidence  exists  in  other  quarters,  en- 
abling us  to  trace  the  essential  facts  of  Miller's  spiritual  history. 

I 

NEW-YEAR   MUSINGS — OPINION  TEN   DAYS  LATER. 

On  the  ist  of  January,  1827,  he  writes  to  Ross.  His  reflections  are 
not  of  a  jocund  character :  "  The  first  sun  of  the  year  has  not  yet 
risen,  but  I  have  trimmed  and  lighted  my  lamp,  and  set  myself  down 
to  write  by  the  assistance  of  its  little  red  flame.  .  .  .  Many  are  the 
reflections  which  a  closing  and  an  opening  year  suggest.  You  have 
often  seen  that  Egyptian  symbol,  an  adder  holding  its  tail  in  its  mouth  ; 
and  I  am  sure  that  you  have  observed  that  the  slender  circular  body  of 
that  adder  is  but  a  dull-looking  thing,  varied  as  it  only  is  by  a  slight 
difference  in  bulk,  or  a  still  slighter  difference  in  the  loops  of  its  scaly 
coat ;  while,  upon  that  part  of  it  where  its  head  and  tail  meet,  the  eye 
can  rest  with  pleasure.  It  is  said  that  this  adder  is  a  symbol  of  the 
year;  and  certainly,  as  the  eye  is  attracted  more  by  its  head  and  tail, 
than  by  any  part  of  its  body,  so  the  attention  of  the  moralist  is  excited 
more  by  the  beginning  and  close  of  the  year  than  by  any  of  its  inter- 
mediate parts.  The  moralist,  do  I  say?  Alas!  true  moralists  are  by 
no  means  common  characters,  yet  serious  reflection  at  such  a  season 
as  this  is  not  confined  to  a  class  of  men  so  extremely  rare.  I  remem- 
ber that  at  a  stage  of  life  removed  little  from  childhood,  on  a  New-Year's 
day,  not  all  the  halfpence  my  friends  gave  me  could  make  me  happy. 
A  certain  vague  regret  for  the  days  of  sport  that  had  passed  away, 
and  a  fearful  anticipation  of  the  days  of  care  and  toil  which  I  knew 


382  HUGH     MILLER. 

were  coming  on,  conspired  to  cast  a  gloom  over  my  mind.  But  in 
this  the  boy  indulged  in  a  folly  not  always  avoided  by  the  man.  When  I 
looked  at  the  head  and  tail  of  the  snake,  I  thought  of  the  sting  which  in 
reality  both  of  them  bear,  but  not  of  the  antidote  growing  near.  I 
now  perceive  that  it  was  unwise  thus  to  suffer  the  clouds  of  unavailing 
regret  and  dismal  anticipation  to  cast  their  shade  over  my  enjoyments. 
He  who  taught  that  there  is  but  one  thing  truly  needful  taught  also 
that  'sufficient  unto  the  day  is  the  evil  thereof.'  It  is  an  opinion  of 
mine,  that  all  the  drinking  and  feasting  so  common  at  this  season  were 
at  first  resorted  to  for  the  sake  of  dissipating  gloomy  thoughts  like 
those  with  which  I  was  once  perplexed.  The  more  I  think  of  this, 
the  more  I  am  confirmed  of  its  truth.  Judging  from  experience,  it 
appears  reasonable  enough  that  the  man  who  is  unprepared  to  die 
should  forget  that  he  is  mortal ;  but  it  is  monstrous  to  suppose  that, 
deeming  as  most  do,  death  the  greatest  evil,  he  should  yet  joy  at  its 
approach.  If  an  opening  year  warned  a  boy  of  the  toils  which  awaited 
him,  it  may  surely  whisper  to  men  of  death.  And  it  does !  Get  one 
of  the  most  stupid  of  those  who  are  revelers  at  this  season  to  make  a 
single  moral  remark,  and  that  one  will  be,  that  he  is  now  by  a  year  nearer 
his  grave  than  he  was  twelve  months  ago.  From  reflections  like  these, 
though  custom,  by  giving  its  sanction  to  the  festivities  of  the  season, 
has,  after  its  usual  manner,  obscured  every  circumstance  of  its  own 
beginning  and  growth,  I  can  regard  that  loud  huzza  which  has  pene- 
trated even  to  this  recess,  as  that  of  madness  raised  to  drown  the  deep, 
low  murmurings  of  thought.  Many  are  the  reflections  which  a  closing 
and  opening  year  suggest,  and  yet  the  writer  who  would  set  himself  to 
collect  and  arrange  these  would  find  that  there  is  little  to  be  said  of 
the  years  which  commenced  and  concluded  seven  hours  ago,  which  has 
not  already  been  said  (perhaps  well  said)  of  some  preceding  ones.  .  .  . 
But  in  morals,  regarded  as  the  rules  of  life,  there  is  nothing  common- 
place. Filled  with  a  desire  of  making  new  acquirements  and  a  love 
of  novelty,  man  is  generally  moving  onward  in  knowledge — there  is  a 
law  in  his  very  nature  which  urges  him  on  ;  but  for  that  which  is 
morally  good  he  has  no  natural  inclination.  Before  he  quit  his  vicious 
habits  he  must  be  threatened  with  the  horrors  of  eternal  punishment, 
nay,  perhaps  made  to  feel  in  conviction  a  foretaste  of  these  horrors. 
Before  he  commence  a  course  of  virtuous  actions,  he  must  be  presented 
with  the  strongest  motives,  assurance  of  eternal  peace  and  joy,  and, 
what  is  necessarily  superior  to  any  motive,  he  must  be  powerfully  as- 
sisted by  the  Spirit  of  God.  Ah,  my  dear  friend,  there  can  surely  be 
no  commonplace  in  morals,  whether  by  the  word  we  mean  virtuous 
actions,  or  the  precepts  which  enjoin  or  the  considerations  which  en- 
force them.  The  uncertainty  of  time  and  the  certainty  of  death,  the 
guilt  and  madness  of  misspending  time,  and  the  sure  coming  of  judg- 
ment, all  of  these  are  topics  extremely  commonplace  for  an  author, 
but  truths  which  to  every  human  creature  are  important  in  the  highest 
degree.  I  can  not  look  back  upon  the  past  year  with  a  feeling  of  pleas- 


NEW-YEAR    REFLECTIONS.  383 

ure,  and  yet  I  should  look  upon  it  with  one  of  thankfulness.  I  am 
certain  I  have  not  marked  it  by  a  single  meritorious  deed,  and  yet, 
by  the  good  mercy  of  God,  I  have  been  preserved  from  actions  no- 
toriously vicious.  I  have  at  times,  I  trust,  by  his  help,  cleared  my 
heart  of  its  viler  affections,  and  repressed  its  evil  desires.  I  have  be- 
sought his  assistance,  and  experienced  within  me  the  workings  of  grat- 
itude. But,  alas !  at  other  times,  I  have  willfully  opened  the  flood-gates 
of  passion ;  I  have  courted  rather  than  resisted  temptation ;  I  have 
apologized  for  known  sin  in  my  heart ;  and  in  thought  many  times  oft- 
ener  than  once  indeed  have  I  committed  evil." 

Thus  by  the  "  little  red  flame,"  in  the  chill  hour  before  the  dawn, 
on  the  first  day  of  1827,  does  Hugh  Miller  jot  down  for  his  friend 
his  stern  and  sad  communings  with  himself.  The  drear  glimmer  of  the 
lamp  light  is  traceable  on  the  page,  and  the  remarks  on  the  festivities 
of  Christmas  and  New- Year's  day  are  too  harshly  puritanic  for  his 
sunnier  and  wiser  hour;  but  the  severity  of  his  self-judgment,  and 
the  deep  and  humble  piety  which  pervades  the  letter,  makes  it  valu- 
able as  a  revelation  of  his  state  of  mind  at  the  time.  Let  us,  there- 
fore, proceed : 

"  In  that  awful  day  when  things  shall  appear  as  they  really  are, 
how  shall  I  apologize  for  the  evil  I  have  committed  in  that  portion 
of  time  which  was  measured  out  by  the  past  year  ?  The  more  I  con- 
sider the  more  clearly  do  I  see  that  the  evil  I  have  committed  in  it 
was  of  a  positive,  the  good  merely  of  a  negative,  kind.  All  that  I 
can  urge  in  my  defense  is,  that  I  might  have  entered  still  deeper  into 
evil  than  I  have  done.  But  will  this  defense  serve  ?  Were  it  to  serve 
in  an  earthly  court,  the  vilest  criminal  could  with  justice  allege  it ;  and 
will  God,  in  whom  dwelleth,  and  from  whom  cometh,  all  wisdom,  ac- 
cept it  from  his  creatures  ?  Alas  !  hope  itself  can  not  build  on  a  foun- 
dation like  this.  If  mankind  have  no  better  plea  they  are  surely  lost; 
yet  self-love,  in  the  very  face  of  reason,  whispereth  the  contrary.  Ah, 
William,  there  can  be  no  greater  deceiver  than  self-love,  no  flatterer 
more  dangerous,  for  there  is  none  we  suspect  less.  Often,  when  we 
think  of  a  future  state  of  being,  of  an  Almighty  Judge,  and  of  our 
own  appearance  before  him,  in  our  imaginations  we  not  only  pic- 
ture that  Judge  as  merciful,  but  we  even  conceive  of  him  as  possessed  of 
feelings  and  partialities,  and  consequently  of  weaknesses,  like  ourselves. 
We  deem  him  to  be  One  who  will  look  upon  our  faults  with  the  same 
favorable  eye  with  which  we  ourselves  regard  them,  as  one  who  will 
give  us  credit  for  the  merits  which  we  think  we  possess.  Alas!  we 
do  not  consider  -that  one-half  of  these  imagined  merits  are  fictitious, 
the  children  of  our  fancy ;  and  that  the  other  half  of  them  consist  of 
natural  talents  and  propensities  which  have,  for  wise  ends,  been  given 
us,  but  which  we  have  misapplied.  And  what,  then,  remains  ?  As  I 
have  said  already,  I  must  say  again,  that  man's  best  plea,  if  he  ground 
his  defense  on  works,  is,  that  he  has  not  committed  all  the  evil  which 
he  might  have  committed  ;  and  I  must  say  again  that,  if  mankind  have 


384  HUGH     MILLER. 

no  better  plea  than  this,  they  are  surely  lost.  But,  dear  William, 
Christianity  is  not  the  cunningly  devised  fable  I  once  thought  it. 
There  is  a  Savior,  and  he  who  believes  upon  him  with  that  true, 
earnest  belief  which  conquereth  evil,  shall,  for  the  sake  of  the  suffer- 
ings of  that  Savior,  have  his  sins  forgiven  him,  and  for  the  sake  of 
his  righteousness,  be  rewarded.  I  once  thought  this  an  absurd  doc- 
trine ;  now,  though  I  have  more  experience  of  men  and  things  than  I 
ever  had  before,  and  though  my  reason  has  strengthened,  and  is,  as  I 
hope,  still  strengthening,  I  can  regard  it  as  a  wonderful  display  of  the 
wisdom  of  God. 

"Many  are  the  reflections  which  an  opening  and  a  closing  year 
suggest !  How  impenetrably  dark  is  that  cloud  which  hangs  over  the 
future !  How  dubious  and  uncertain  do  the  half-remembered  inci- 
dents of  the  past  appear !  And  what,  since  we  have  so  little  left  us 
to  bear  witness  of  the  past — since  we  have  nothing  to  assure  us  that 
in  this  body,  the  future  shall  be  ours — what  is  that  present  time 
which  we  dare  challenge  as  our  own  ?  Is  it  a  day,  an  hour,  a  minute, 
a  moment?  No,  it  is  simply  a  line  of  division,  a  thing  which  has 
neither  solidity  nor  extension,  breath  nor  thickness.  And  is  this 
nonentity  all  we  can  call  our  own  ?  Cowley,  in  his  essay  on  the 
danger  of  procrastination,  gives  a  translation  of  an  epigram  of  Martial, 
which,  as  it  falls  in  with,  my  present  train  of  thought,  and  is,  of  itself, 
very  ingenious,  I  shall  here  insert.  By  the  by,  I  recommend  Cowley 
to  you  as  an  excellent  and  shrewd  fellow,  who,  if  you  court  his 
company  and  conversation,  will,  I  am  sure,  give  you  much  pleasure, 
and,  perhaps,  some  instruction.  He  is  a  true  poet,  though  of  a  rare 
school.  But  the  epigram  : 

" '  To-morrow  you  will  live,  you  always  cry ; 

In  what  far  country  does  this  morrow  lie  ? 

That  't  is  so  mighty  long  ere  it  arrive, 

Beyond  the  Indies  does  this  morrow  live  ? 

'T  is  so  far-fetched,  this  morrow,  that  I  fear 

'Twill  be  both  very  old  and  very  dear. 

To-morrow  I  will  live,  the  fool  does  say. 

To-day  itself 's  too  late ;  the  wise  lived  yesterday.' 

"What  is,  or  where  is,  to-morrow?  is  the  question  of  the  Roman 
epigrammatist.  I  would,  in  like  manner,  ask  what  is,  or  rather  what 
was,  yesterday?  It  has  left  a  few  marks  upon  the  face  of  the  earth. 
Yesterday  a  field  was  plowed,  a  house  built,  and  a  grave  dug ;  and 
these  marks,  and  scarce  any  thing  else,  make  yesterday  different  from 
the  dream  of  yesternight;  but  the  grave  must  very  soon  be  closed, 
the  plowed  field  will  soon  become  a  piece  of  green  sward,  and  to 
Him  with  whom  a  thousand  years  are  as  a  day,  it  will  appear  but  a 
short  space  when  the  foundations  of  the  house  will  become  a  piece 
of  green  sward  also.  Yet  things  like  these  are  the  monuments  of 
yesterday.  But  what  is  yesterday  itself?  what  was  it,  rather?  It 
was  a  space  of  time  measured  by  the  sun,  which  was  given  to  men 
that  in  it  they  might  prepare  for  death ;  and  instead  of  preparing  for 


MORAL     REFLECTIONS.  385 

death,  the  whole  power  of  their  bodies  and  every  energy  of  their 
souls  have  been-  employed  in  building  and  plowing,  and  in  other  such 
occupations,  even  though  they  saw  graves  opening  and  closing  before 
them.  What,  though  those  wasting  monuments  of  yesterday  which 
men  have  raised  or  inscribed  on  the  face  of  the  earth  were  eternal — 
what  has  the  soiil  of  man  to  do  with  these  external  things?  If  his 
soul  be  immaterial,  as  many  judicious  philosophers  affirm,  then, 
though  mysteriously  connected  with  a  material  body,  it  can  surely 
have  no  proper  and  natural  connection  with  the  earth  in  which  veg- 
etables grow,  or  the  stones  with  which  houses  are  built.  But  I  am 
quaintly  deducing  a  moral  from  an  uncertainty,  which  I  can  simply, 
and  with  ease,  deduce  from  a  known  truth.  I  am  also  speaking  rather 
loosely  of  the  particular  provision  to  be  made  for  the  soul,  and 
making  no  allowance  for  that  which  must,  of  necessity,  be  made  for 
the  body.  Be  it  sufficient  that  I  mention  the  last,  since  the  propor- 
tion which  the  interests  of  the  body  bear  to  those  of  the  soul  must  be 
that  which  finite  bears  to  infinite. 

"The  particular  provision  which  must  be  made  for  the  soul  is,  as  I 
firmly  believe,  specified  in  those  revealed  books  which  compose  the 
Old  and  New  Testaments.  The  uncertainty  to  which  I  refer  is  the 
immateriality  of  the  soul.  The  truth — the  truths  I  should  rather  say — 
which  concern  the  separate  existence  of  the  soul  and  the  resurrec- 
tion of  the  body,  are  those  of  God. 

"And  now  I  will  just  conclude,  for  I  become,  though  very  serious, 
very  tiresome,  by  remarking  that,  since  time  past  is  little  more  than 
a  shadow,  since  time  coming  is  something  less,  it  is  man's  true  wisdom 
to  intrench  himself  within  himself — not  in  selfishness ;  it  is  selfish- 
ness which  prompts  him  to  wander,  and  in  his  wanderings,  to  form 
connections  with  unfit  objects — such  as  earth  and  stones — not  in 
selfishness,  but  with  a  love  to  God  greater,  and  a  love  to  his  neighbor 
equal  to  that  which  he  bears  to  himself,  intrenching  himself  in  a 
good  conscience  and  a  rational  (that  is,  a  scriptural)  hope  of  salva- 
tion, perceiving  that  to  himself  his  own  soul  is  every  thing.  And, 
dear  William,  is  it  not  truly  every  thing?  All  that  to  us  remains  of  the 
past  lies  in  the  store-houses  of  our  memories,  or  the  books  of  our 
consciences;  all  the  surmisings  which  we  form  of  the  future  are 
drawn  from  the  experiences  of  the  past,  which  we  have  laid  up  in 
these  store-houses;  while  our  imaginations  sit  retired,  each  in  its  own 
recess,  drawing  pictures  of  these  experiences,  and  of  the  images  which 
are  preserved  aloi\g  with  them,  joining  or  disjoining  them  at  pleasure. 
Oh,  how  strange  and  varied  are  the  powers  of  that  soul  which  is  des- 
tined to  immortality !  It  can  be  made  of  itself,  just  as  we  deal  with 
it,  either  a  heaven  or  a  hell.  And  now  I  have  done.  No,  not  yet. 
I  must,  by  quoting  Shakespeare,  forestall  some  of  your  remarks: 

•"When  I  did  hr 
The  motley  fool  thus  moral  on  the  ' 
My  lungs  began  to  crow  like  tha- 

25 


386  HUGH    MILLER. 

That  fools  should  be  so  deep  contemplative ; 
And  I  did  laugh  sans  intermission 
An  hour  by  his  dial.'  " 

This  remarkable  letter  was  not  sent  away  at  once.  On  the  loth  of 
the  month  Hugh  took  it  up,  and  added  a  few  words.  The  "thoughts 
and  modes  of  expression"  seem,  he  says,  as  new  to  him  "as  if  they 
had  been  found  by  some  other  person."  From  this  he  infers  that,  if 
he  and  his  two  friends  made  copies  of  their  letters,  the  volume  con- 
taining them,  if  of  no  great  interest  to  third  parties,  would  be  not 
only  interesting  but  extremely  useful  to  the  correspondents.  "You 
may  see,"  he  proceeds,  "that  I  am  bent  on  making  this  experiment." 
Miller  carried  out  his  intention  to  a  very  considerable  extent,  and 
seems  never,  while  he  resided  in  Cromarty,  to  have  grudged  the  labor 
of  copying  for  preservation  what  he  wrote. 

Reverting  to  his  letter,  he  remarks  justly  that  it  is  "too  much  in 
the  style  which  a  preceptor  would  assume,"  while  some  of  the  obser- 
vations "are  commonplace  and  ill-connected,  and  others  of  them 
unpardonably  quaint."  He  assures  Ross  that  the  preceptorial  tone  is 
"only  in  seeming,  not  in  reality,"  and  that  he  does  not  suppose  his 
correspondent  to  be  ignorant  of  any  thing  he  has  written.  "The 
blockhead  who  sets  himself  up  as  an  adviser  of  others,  is  always  one 
who  is  very  far  indeed  beyond  the  power  of  advice  to  reclaim."  By 
way  of  practical  conclusion  to  the  whole  matter,  we  have  the  follow- 
ing: "But  why,  you  may  ask,  why  then  write  me  that  which  I 
already  know?  The  question,  though  a  simple,  is  truly  a  hard  one, 
and  I  can  answer  it  in  no  other  way  than  by  saying  that  I  wrote 
from  my  feelings;  that,  from  seeing  the  connection  which  the  passing 
time  and  my  wasting  life  have  together,  I  was  insensibly  led  to  think 
of  time  and  eternity,  life  and  death,  and,  as  I  was,  when  my  mind 
was  thus  occupied,  writing  my  friend,  to  commit  these  thoughts  to 
paper  for  his  perusal.  But  besides  general  there  are  in  these  pages 
particular  facts.  I  have  told  you  that  what  I  now  believe  I  did  not 
once  believe,  and  I  have  told  you  how  I  have  determined,  relying 
on  the  help  of  God,  to  make  the  doctrines  of  Christianity  the  rule 
of  my  belief — its  precepts,  that  of  my  conduct.  Ah,  William,  how 
easy  it  is  to  write  of  virtuous  deeds !  how  difficult  to  perform  them ! 
How  easy  is  it  to  make  a  good  resolve !  how  difficult  to  abide  by 
one!  But  the  power,  truth,  and  goodness  of  God  are  infinite,  and 
he  has  promised  to  give  his  Holy  Spirit  to  them  that  ask  it." 

From  this  point,  Hugh  Miller  never  receded.  A  profound  change 
had  passed  over  his  spiritual  nature,  a  change  none  the  less  pene- 
trating or  pervasive  that  its  operation  had  taken  place  in  the  silent 
chambers  of  his  soul,  and  had  manifested  itself  in  few  external  signs. 
Through  no  paroxysms  of  self-accusing  agony  did  he  make  his  way 
into  the  temple  of  his  spiritual  rest.  By  no  raptures  of  religious 
enthusiasm  did  he  announce  his  arrival  at  his  Father's  house.  With 
the  deliberate  assent  of  reason,  conscience,  and  feeling,  he  embraced 


HIS     ESTIMATE     OF     RELIGION.  387 

the  Gospel  of  Christ,  and  solemnly  cast  in  his  lot  with  those  who 
confessed  Christ  before  men.  On  this  point  there  was  to  be  no 
further  debate.  By  one  supreme  act  of  resolution  he  defined  the 
future  of  his  soul's  life.  Aided,  as  he  reverently  believed,  by  the  Di- 
vine Spirit,  he  placed  his  trust  in  the  power,  truth,  and  goodness  of 
the  Infinite  One,  as  revealed  in  Jesus  of  Nazareth.  But  the  religion 
of  Miller,  though  from  this  time  it  lay  entwined  with  the  deepest  roots 
of  his  being,  and  was  the  supreme  and  determining  element  in  his 
character,  came  little  to  the  surface.  It  was  an  unseen  force,  a  hidden 
fire,  influencing  him  at  all  moments,  but  never  obtruded  on  the  public 
eye.  It  would  have  been  offensive  to  all  the  instincts  of  his  modest 
and  manly  nature,  to  unveil  the  secret  places  of  his  soul  to  the  gen- 
eral observer. 

The  reader  may  have  remarked  that,  in  his  letters  to  Ross,  Miller 
assumes  that  part  of  Mentor,  which,  in  the  other  correspondence,  is 
taken  so  decisively  by  Swanson.  The  influence  emanates  from  Swan- 
son,  and  Hugh  passes  it  on  to  Ross.  His  relations  with  the  latter 
appear  to  have  been  of  a  more  tenderly  confidential  character  than 
his  relations  with  the  former. 

MILLER   AT   TWENTY-SIX — LETTER   TO   ROSS — THE  BLESSING   OF   A   TRUE 

FRIEND — ROMANCE  THE    SHADOW  OF  RELIGION FORMER  AND  PRESENT 

VIEWS   OF   RELIGION — FREETHINKERS  WHO  CAN  NOT   THINK  AT  ALL 

CHRISTIAN    THE     HIGHEST     STYLE     OF     MAN — PROJECT     OF   GOING   TO 
INVERNESS. 

Hugh  Miller,  then,  as  we  meet  him  on  the  threshold  of  his  twenty- 
sixth  summer,  has  passed  through  the  stages  of  boyhood  and  youth, 
with  their  changes  of  mood  and  development  of  faculty,  and  acquired 
that  fundamental  type  of  character  which  he  subsequently  retained. 
Steadily  prosecuting  the  enterprise  of  self-culture,  he  is  animated  by 
the  purest  spiritual  ambition,  and  experiences,  in  faculties  invigorated 
and  knowledge  increased,  that  deep  joy  which  is  the  student's  reward. 
He  has  derived,  it  is  scarce  necessary  to  say,  inestimable  advantage 
from  the  completion  of  that  religious  process  which  had  long  been 
going  on  in  his  mind.  The  event  which  he  would  have  called  his 
conversion,  and  pronounced  of  transcendent  importance  in  relation  to 
all  other  occurrences  in  his  life,  has  taken  place.  He  knows  what  he 
believes.  The  atmosphere  of  his  soul  is  clear  and  calm,  and  the  un- 
fathomable azure  of  heaven  touches  with  softening  radiance  all  its 
clouds.  Placid  resolution,  energy  peacefully  fronting  the  tasks  of 
life,  a  thoughtful  gayety  and  smiling  fortitude,  attest  the  genial  firm- 
ness with  which  he  now  wields  the  scepter  of  his  mental  realm. 

In  a  letter  to  Ross,  dated  May,  1828,  he  writes  : 

"  Religion,  my  dear  friend,  is  a  very  different  thing  from  what  the 
people  of  the  world  think  it.  Four  years  ago  I  deemed  the  love  of 
God  a  passion  altogether  chimerical.  When  I  looked  towards  the 


388  HUGH     MILLER. 

sky,  I  saw  that  the  sun  was  a  glorious  and  sublime  object,  and  a  very 
apt  image  of  the  God  who  had  created  it  and  all  things;  but  I 
thought  I  could  as  rationally  love  that  sun  as  I  could  the  invisible 
Being  of  whom  I  deemed  it  the  best  type.  I  found  what  I  reckoned 
admirable  things  in  the  writings  of  Plato.  Socrates  I  regarded  as  a 
very  excellent,  talented  man ;  his  reasonings  on  the  immortality  of 
the  soul,  on  the  love  of  God,  on  prayer,  and  on  the  nature  of  holi- 
ness and  of  man,  delighted  me.  But  though  I  never  once  thought  of 
bringing  forward  arguments  to  weigh  against  his,  I  could  not  consider 
what  he  taught  in  the  light  of  serious  truths.  I  felt  the  same  pleasure 
in  perusing  his  dialogues,  or  in  reading  fine  moral  poems  and  dis- 
courses, as  I  felt  when  looking  at  an  elegant  statue  or  picture ;  but  I 
thought  as  little  of  taking  the  precepts  I  found  in  these  pieces  as 
rules  to  live  by  as  I  did  of  paring  my  limbs  or  features  to  the  exact 
proportions  of  those  of  the  Apollo  Belvidere  or  the  Hercules  Farnese. 
As  for  the  religion  of  the  New  Testament,  I  could  not  at  all  admire 
it.  Some  of  the  morals  it  inculcated  I  thought  good,  though  in  the 
main  rather  calculated  to  make  a  patient  than  an  active  man,  and 
better  adapted  for  the  slave  and  the  vanquished  than  for  the  freeman 
and  the  conqueror.  The  scheme  of  Redemption  and  its  consequent 
doctrines  I  regarded  as  peculiarly  absurd.  I  held  it  impossible  that  a 
man  of  taste  and  judgment  could  in  reality  be  a  Christian.  As  for 
those  men  who  were  evidently  possessed  of  both  these  faculties  in  a 
high  degree  and  yet  professors  of  religion,  I  interpreted  their  seeming 
assent  to  its  dogmas  as  the  effect  of  a  prudence  similar  to  that  which 
made  Plato,  Seneca,  and  some  of  the  other  ancient  philosophers, 
profess  a  belief  in  the  mythologic  fables  of  Greece  and  Rome.  I  was 
myself,  an  imitator  of  these  men,  and  I  looked  upon  the  professed 
atheist  or  deist,  not  perhaps  with  as  much  abhorrence  as  the  serious 
believer  would  regard  him  with,  but  with  a  much  higher  contempt ; 
for  it  seemed  to  me  a  thing  childishly  imprudent  for  any  one  to  as- 
sume the  character  of  a  freethinker,  when  all  to  be  acquired  by  op- 
posing the  current  of  what  I  regarded  as  popular  prejudice  was  the 
unqualified  hatred  and  detestation  of  nineteen-twentieths  of  one's 
countrymen  and  relations.  I  therefore  professed,  as  you  will  perhaps 
remember,  a  great  respect  for  religion,  though  always  ready  to  con- 
fess to  any  one  who  was  seriously  a  Christian  that  I  had  no  experi- 
mental knowledge  of  its  truth.  I  found  the  doctrine  of  predestina- 
tion very  serviceable  as  a  kind  of  shield  to  protect  me  against  the 
advices  (you  may  smile  at  the  term)  of  such.  You  may  see  from 
what  I  have  written  what  it  was  made  me  think  it  possible  that  your 
profession  of  respect  for  religion  was  insincere ,  but  you  will  pardon 
me,  as  you  know  how  natural  it  is  for  a  man  to  judge  his  neighbor  by 
himself. 

"But  though  misled  for  once  by  this  method  of  judging,  I  shall 
yet  avail  myself  of  it  in  forming  an  opinion  of  that  formidable  body, 
the  men  of  the  world,  so  far  as  their  regards  for  religion  are  concerned. 


IGNORANCE     OF     SKEPTICS.  389 

My  present  self  takes  my  former  self  as  a  specimen  of  these  men  ;  ay, 
and  conceit  goes  so  far  as  to  say  that  former  self  may  be  regarded  as 
no  unfavorable  specimen  either.  'Tis  true  I  was  not  one  of  the 
most  acute  though  one  of  the  most  prudent  of  freethinkers.  I  will 
not  arrogate  to  myself  the  powers  of  a  Paine  or  a  Hobbes,  yet, 
setting  conceit  apart,  I  think  I  may  say  that  my  natural  acuteness 
and  acquired  knowledge,  at  the  time  I  deemed  the  historical  part  of 
the  Bible  a  collection  of  fables,  and  its  doctrinal  a  mass  of  absurdities,- 
were  far  superior  to  the  acuteness  or  knowledge  of  the  generality  of 
such  men  as  harbor  similar  opinions.  I  mean  such  of  them  as  think 
for  themselves  ;  and  it  is  proper  to  make  this  distinction;  for  I  can  assure 
you,  however  much  the  men  who  arrogate  a  faculty  of  detecting  im- 
postures the  rest  of  the  world  are  deceived  by,  may  boast  of  the  su- 
perior power  of  mind  lavished  in  their  sept,  that  there  are  blockheads 
who  are  skeptics  as  well  as  weak  men  who  are  Christians,  nay,  more, 
that  there  are  men  who  profess  themselves  freethinkers  who  were  not 
born  to  be  thinkers  at  all. 

"  The  few  intelligent  skeptics  I  have  been  acquainted  with,  I  have 
invariably  found  as  ignorant  of  religion  as  I  myself  was  four  years 
ago,  and,  from  my  present  knowledge  of  it,  I  conclude  (and  it  would 
be  difficult  to  prove  my  conclusion  false)  that  all  its  enemies,  even 
the  most  acute,  are  thus  ignorant.  I  have  perused  the  Essays  of 
Hume,  one  of  the  best  reasoners,  perhaps,  the  world  ever  produced, 
and  on  rising  from  that  perusal  this  estimate  appeared  to  me  juster 
than  ever.  Holding  this  opinion,  I  can  pity  these  men,  but  I  feel 
little  disposed  to  fear  their  arguments,  having  experience  of  their 
futility ;  nor  yet  do  I  feel  uneasy  at  the  thought  of  being  the  object 
of  the  contempt  of  such ;  for  my  memory  must  altogether  fail  me  be- 
fore I  forget  that  with  a  contempt  similar  to  theirs  I  once  regarded 
men  well  skilled  in  that  wisdom,  the  beginning  of  which  is  the  fear 
of  God. 

"  With  the  second  class,  the  non-thinkers,  it  is  not  so  easy  to  deal. 
They  are  so  numerous  as  to  compose  nearly  two-thirds  of  the  inhabit- 
ants of  our  large  towns ;  and  even  in  our  villages  and  in  the  country, 
whose  inhabitants,  forty  years  ago,  were  a  superstitious,  it  may  be, 
but  certainly  a  moral  and  decent  people,  they  are  springing  up  like 
mushrooms.  Consummately  ignorant  of  religion,  and  deficient  in  all 
general  knowledge,  they  ridicule  and  defame  all  those  who,  professing 
a  belief  in  the  doctrines  of  the  Bible,  make  its  morality  the  rule  of 
their  lives.  They  are  searchers  after  truth  on  the  plan  laid  down  by 
my  Lord  Shaftesbury.  Men  of  the  firmest  minds  find  it  a  hard  task 
to  keep  themselves  cool  and  undisturbed  when  made  the  butts  of  ridi- 
cule. The  ridicule  of  the  fool,  too,  is  peculiarly  bitter.  I  have  had 
occasion  to  feel  it  at  times,  having  oftener  than  once  come  in  contact 
with  persons  of  the  stamp  described  ;  and  I  have  felt  hurt  at  finding 
myself  made  their  butt  ;  but  as  there  is  no  character  I  regard  with  so 
much  contempt  as  a  coward,  I  have  been  solaced  at  finding,  from  re- 


39°  HUGH    MILLER. 

peated  experience,  that  none  except  arrant  cowards  set  upon  me  in 
this  manner.  These  pusillanimous  mockers  never  venture  singly  to 
attack  a  man.  They  fight  in  companies,  having  no  chance  if  the  person 
they  single  out  be  strong  in  judgment  or  in  humor,  unless  they  can 
drown  his  arguments  or  wit  in  their  laughter.  For  any  two  of  the 
fraternity,  unless  they  be  more  ignorant  and  stupid  than  common,  I 
find  myself  an  overmatch.  Argument  or  the  sallies  of  wit  confound 
them.  They  can  do  nothing  except  laugh,  and  not  even  that  when 
alone. 

"  But  as  I  have  detailed  the  opinions  which  I  formerly  held  of  re- 
ligion at  some  length,  it  may  not  be  improper  to  state,  as  a  per  contra, 
a  few  of  those  I  at  present  hold  respecting  it.  I  have  now  so  far 
changed  my  opinion  of  religion  as  to  think,  with  a  celebrated  poet, 
that  Christian  is  the  highest  style  of  man,  and  that,  by  the  New  Testa- 
ment, men  of  the  greatest  powers  of  mind  and  the  deepest  learning 
may  be  taught  wisdom.  Nor  can  I  deem,  as  I  did  once,  the  scheme 
of  morals  which  this  book  contains  mean  and  contemptible.  I  am 
convinced  that,  were  that  scheme  universally  acted  upon,  earth  would 
become  a  heaven ;  and  further,  that  no  one  can  act  upon  it  unless 
possessed  of  the  highest  and  noblest  fortitude — a  fortitude,  indeed, 
too  noble  to  have  any  place  in  the  natural  human  heart,  but  which 
God  has  promised  to  infuse  into  the  hearts  of  all  such  as  believe  Jesus 
to  be  the  Christ.  As  for  taste,  I  can  not  help  wondering  how  I  could 
at  any  time  be  so  very  absurd  as  to  think  the  doctrines  of  Christian- 
ity opposed  to  this  principle,  especially  when  I  understood  and  relished 
the  larger  poems  of  Cowper  and  Milton.  Through  the  Revelation,  by 
which  I  am  taught  of  all  that  Christ  has  done  and  suffered  for  sin- 
ners, the  God  whom  I  would  formerly  regard  with  a  cold  feeling  of 
admiration,  I  can  now  love  as  my  God  and  Father.  I  feel  him 
brought  near  to  me,  and  that;  too,  in  a  way  against  which  my  pride 
of  heart  had  formerly  revolted,  and  which  my  reason  deemed  as  un- 
worthy of  divine  wisdom  to  devise  or  of  human  to  trust  to. 

"  This  is  not  merely  an  avowal  of  a  change  of  opinion.  There  is 
implied  in  it  a  change  of  heart.  Though  still  sinful  and  foolish  in  a 
degree  I  would  be  ashamed  to  confess  even  to  my  friends,  I  trust  I 
am  now  less  selfish  and  possessed  of  a  more  affectionate  heart  than  I 
was  before  I  believed.  My  friends  are  dearer  to  me  than  they  were 
formerly,  and  yet  I  do  not  now,  as  I  did  once,  make  their  approba- 
tion the  rule  of  my  actions.  I  am,  perhaps,  still  too  fond  pf  praise 
from  such  of  my  fellow-men  as  I  respect  and  love,  but  I  find  that  my 
desire  of  avoiding  that  which  is  bad  and  dishonorable  follows  me  into 
solitude,  and  that  my  belief  in  God's  omnipresence  (may  I  not  hope 
the  assistance  of  a  spirit  also?)  gives  me  strength  to  accomplish  this 
desire.  But  you  will  not  be  satisfied,  if  I  run  on  in  this  strain  to  the 
end  of  my  letter.  Let  me  close  this  part  of  it,  then,  in  the  words  of 
one  of  the  many  texts  which  point  out  the  principle  upon  which  the 
change  I  have  been  describing  hinged :  '  Whosoever  believeth  that 


A     NEW     FRIEND.  391 

Jesus  is  the  Christ,  is  born  of  God.'  Mark  what  follows:  'Whoso- 
ever is  born  of  God  overcometh  the  world. ' 

.  .  .  .  Rousseau  was  certainly  in  the  right  when  he  said  that  the 
art  of  writing  well  was  of  all  others  the  most  difficult  to  acquire.  I 
have  been  wishing,  ay,  and  striving,  too,  as  hard  as  my  indolent, 
volatile  nature  suffered,  for  these  three  years  past  to  acquire  this  art ; 
and  all  I  have  yet  attained  is  an  ability  of  detecting  my  mistakes  and 

of  seeing  how  incorrect  my  modes  of  expression  are 

"  There  is  a  general  stagnation  in  this  part  of  the  country  in  all 
kinds  of  trade.  The  season  favorable  to  my  department  is  fast  ad- 
vancing, but,  except  two  tombstones  (and  one  of  these  is  not  yet 
finished ),  I  have  done  nothing  this  year.  I  have  some  thoughts  of 
putting  into  execution  a  plan  which  has  been  revolving  in  my  mind 
these  several  months  back.  I  engrave  inscriptions  on  stone  (conceit 
apart)  in  a  neater  and  more  correct  manner  than  any  other  mason  in 
this  part  of  the  country.  The  masons  of  Inverness,  as  I  have  been 
informed,  are  very  deficient  in  this  art.  My  plan  is  to  go  to  that 
town,  take  lodgings  in  some  cheap  part  of  it,  and  make  myself  known 
by  advertisement  as  a  stone  engraver.  What  think  you  of  this  ?  The 
want  of  friends  and  of  a  due  confidence  in  one's  self  are,  it  is  true, 
disqualifying  circumstances,  but  time  and  chance  happeneth  to  all." 

SEEKS   WORK    IN   INVERNESS — RESOLVES     TO    PRINT  HIS   POEMS — MAKES 

THE   ACQUAINTANCE   OF   MR.    CARRUTHERS CORRECTS   PROOF-SHEETS 

OF  HIS  POETRY,  AND  DECIDES  THAT  IT  IS  POOR RETAINS  INFLEX- 
IBLY HIS  FIRST  OPINION  OF  ITS  MERITS,  AND  RESOLVES  TO  CULTIVATE 
PROSE  —  DEATHS  OF  UNCLE  JAMES  AND  OF  WILLIAM  ROSS  —  DEDICA- 
TION OF  HIS  POEMS  TO  SWANSON. 

The  plan  of  seeking  work  in  Inverness,  which  he  carried  into  effect 
in  the  course  of  the  summer,  had  important  consequences,  but  they 
proved  to  be  by  no  means  of  the  kind  he  anticipated.  Miller  re- 
solved to  print  his  poems  on  his  own  account.  He  thus  formed  the 
acquaintance  of  Mr.  Robert  Carruthers,  editor  of  the  "  Inverness 
Courier,"  and  the  acquaintance  ripened  rapidly  into  a  friendship 
which  continued  during  the  life  of  Htigh  Miller.  With  that  critical 
acumen  which  all  the  world  has  learned  to  acknowledge  in  the 
biographer  of  Pope,  Mr.  Cnrruthers  discerned  the  originality  and 
worth  of  Miller,  and  though  he  came  in  the  guise  of  a  stone-mason, 
shy,  taciturn,  ungainly,  with  a  quire  of  rugged  verses  in  his  pocket, 
admitted  him  at  once  to  the  enjoyment  of  that  equality  and  that 
fraternity  which  have  from  of  old  prevailed  in  the  republic  of  letters. 
Miller  had  indeed  made  a  notable  acquisition,  and  he  did  not  fail  to 
appreciate  it.  The  perfect  judgment,  the  perfect  temper,  the  literary 
sympathy,  not  less  intelligent  than  warm,  the  indestructible  cordiality, 
unchilled  by  forty  years'  editorial  experience,  which  have  endeared 
Mr.  Carruthers  to  thousands  from  London  to  Inverness,  won  his  con- 


392  HUGH    MILLER. 

fidence  and  his  heart.  To  his  dying  day  there  was  no  newspaper 
which  he  read  with  half  the  interest  with  which  he  hung  over  the 
"Inverness  Courier." 

Soon  his  poems  began  to  be  put  into  his  hands  in  a  form  which, 
though  he  probably  had  them  by  heart,  made  them  nevertheless  new 
to  him,  to-wit,  in  print.  The  effect  was  memorable.  His  critical 
faculty  realized  with  startling  and  painful,  but  quite  convincing,  viv- 
idness, that  they  fell  far  below  the  mark  of  good  English  poetry. 
Hugh  Miller  was  hardly  one  of  those  who  "can  hear  their  detrac- 
tions and  put  them  to  mending,"  for  his  pugnacity  always  awoke 
when  he  was  attacked  ;  but  he  was  one  of  a'class  perhaps  still  smaller, 
who  can  estimate  their  own  performances  with  austere  justice,  and 
abide  by  that  estimate  in  the  face  of  contemptuous  disparagement  on 
the  one  hand,  and  the  most  ingenious  and  plausible  encomiums  on  the 
other.  The  "  Poems  written  in  the  Leisure  Hours  of  a  Journeyman 
Mason,"  met  with  a  success  which,  had  Miller  been  a  rhyming  artisan 
of  the  ordinary  caliber,  would  have  turned  his  "head.  Issued  from  a 
newspaper  office  in  the  north  of  Scotland,  they  were  recognized  as 
imbued  with  true  excellence  in  periodicals  of  the  first  order,  and  by 
critics  of  culture  and  authority.  The  "  Lines  to  a  Sun-dial  placed  in 
a  Church-yard  "  were  quoted  in  magazine  and  newspaper  throughout 
the  length  and  breadth  of  the  United  Kingdom,  and  the  author  was 
assured  that  they  displayed  "  a  refinement  of  thought,  an  elegance  and 
propriety  of  language,  that  would  do  honor  to  the  most  accomplished 
poet  of  the  day."  Had  Miller  not  had  the  making  of  a  poet  in  him, 
the  like  of  this  would  have  led  him  at  once  to  exhalt  his  horn  as  a 
prodigy  of  genius,  too  fine  to  work  at  his  craft,  who  had  only  to  put 
his  name  to  a  copy  of  verses  to  make  them  immortal,  and  whom  the 
human  species  were  bound  to  supply  with  the  necessaries  of  life  gratis. 
The  plaudits  profoundly  gratified  Miller,  but  did  not  move  him  a 
hair's  breadth  from  the  Rhadamanthine  sternness  of  his  judgment  on 
himself,  or  shake  in  his  bosom  "  that  serene  and  unconquerable  pride 
which  no  applause,  no  reprobation,  could  blind  to  its  shortcoming 
or  beguile  of  its  reward." 

The  question  may  be  gravely  put,  whether  he  did  not  err  in  de- 
termining, as  he  did,  to  abandon  poetical  composition  and  devote 
himself,  for  a  time  at  least,  to  prose. 

It  was  within  the  capacity  of  Miller  to  produce  reflective  and  de- 
scriptive poetry  equal  to  any  in  the  English  language.  On  the  other 
hand,  he  fell  short  both  in  lyrical  passion  and  dramatic  sympathy,  and 
his  imagination,  though  powerful,  was  cold.  His  ear,  too,  may  have 
been  naturally  better  fitted  to  the  modulation  of  prose  than  of  verse. 
It  is  bootless  to  speculate  on  the  subject.  The  army  of  the  Muses  is 
like  that  of  Gideon.  All  who  are  fearful  or  afraid,  all  who  do  not 
serve  for  life  or  for  death,  not  only  may  but  must  quit  it ;  and  Miller 
was  critic  enough  to  know  the  "intolerable  severity"  of  Apollo. 
Some  of  our  most  eminent  writers,  Mr.  Carlyle  and  Mr.  Ruskin,  for 


HIS    DOUBLE    GRIEF.  393 

instance,  would  maintain  that,  in  deliberately  abandoning  verse, 
amid  the  acclamations  which  greeted  his  earliest  efforts,  Hugh  Miller 
presented  an  example  which  specially  deserves  to  be  followed,  and 
gave  one  of  the  noblest  proofs  afforded  by  his  career  of  sterling 
ability  and  massive  sense. 

From  the  ideal  woe  of  perceiving  for  the  first  time  that  he  stood 
at  an  immeasurable  distance  below  the  great  masters  of  English 
poetry,  he  was  recalled  to  the  hard  reality  of  grief  by  the  intelligence 
that  his  Uncle  James  had  died;  and,  on  proceeding  to  Cromarty  in 
consequence  of  this  intelligence,  he  learned  that  William  Ross  also 
was  no  more.  Uncle  James,  as  we  well  know,  had  been  as  a  father 
to  him ;  or  rather  as  one  among  ten  thousand  fathers ;  for,  if  the 
affection  with  which  he  regarded  his  nephew  was  as  that  of  a  tender 
parent,  the  counsel,  the  example,  the  sympathetic  forbearance,  the 
just  appreciation,  which  Miller  experienced  at  his  hands,  were  such 
as  the  fewest  parents  can  bestow.  From  Uncle  James,  as  by  a  fine 
moral  contagion,  Hugh  derived  that  proud  integrity,  that  sensitive 
honor,  in  money  matters,  which  was  with  him,  as  with  Burns,  a  pas- 
sion. 

The  death  of  Ross  touched  him  keenly.  Among  his  early  friends 
Swanson  had  his  deepest  respect,  but  the  tenderest  of  his  friendships 
was  with  Ross.  Of  him  alone  among  his  boyish  companions  did 
Miller  speak  as  possessed  of  genius,  and  we  have  seen  enough  to 
prove  that  his  estimate  was  not  extravagant.  Ross  could  sympathize 
with  much  which  elicited  no  response  from  the  Puritan  rigor  of  Swan- 
son,  and  with  his  delicate  feeling  for  beauty  were  combined  a  fem- 
inine gentleness  and  depth  of  affection  which  greatly  endeared  him 
to  Miller.  "  My  hope  of  salvation  is  in  the  blood  of  Jesus.  Fare- 
well, my  sincerest  friend."  These  were  the  closing  words  of  William 
Ross's  last  letter  to  Miller. 

The  Journeyman's  Poems  were  dedicated  to  John  Swanson,  the 
name  disguised  in  asterisks.  In  a  dedicatory  epistle  to  his  friend, 
written  in  prose,  Miller  declares  him  to  be  "the  best  scholar  and 
truest  philosopher  he  ever  knew,"  and  avows  his  gratitude  to  him 
for  "having  convinced  one  who  possibly  might  have  done  some  mis- 
chief as  an  infidel,  that  the  Religion  of  the  Bible  is  not  a  cunningly 
devised  fable."  Of  his  own  book,  he  ventures  to  state  the  opinion, 
"  that  a  spirit  of  poetry  may  be  found  in  it,  wrestling  with  those 
improprieties  of  language  consequent  on  imperfect  education,  just 
as  the  half-formed  animals  of  the  Nile,  that  are  warmed  into  life  by 
the  beams  of  the  sun,  struggle  to  free  themselves  from  the  mud  and 
slime  in  which  they  are  enveloped."  He  virtually  takes  upon  him- 
self the  blame,  however,  of  whatever  defect  of  education  the  volume 
may  display,  confessing  that,  in  the  present  age,  "ignorance  implies 
rather  want  of  mind  than  want  of  opportunity  for  cultivating  the 
mental  faculties."  True  words;  and  specially  brave  and  modest  from 
the  lips  of  a  poetical  mechanic. 


394  HUGH     MILLER. 


RESUMES  WORK  AS  A  STONE-CUTTER  AT  CROMARTY INTIMACY  WITH 

MR.  STEWART — THE  LITERARY  LION  OF  THE  PLACE WRITES  FOR  THE 

"  INVERNESS  COURIER" — LETTERS  ON  THE  HERRING  FISHERY  —  EX- 
TRAORDINARY SHOAL  OF  HERRINGS — A  NIGHT  ON  GUILLIAM  —  EMI- 
GRATION OF  HIGHLANDERS  TO  CANADA SCIENCE  AT  LAST. 

Having  committed  the  body  of  Uncle  James  to  the  grave,  and 
piously  recorded  on-  his  tombstone  that  he  had  "  lived  without  re- 
proach and  died  without  fear,"  Miller  did  not  return  to  Inverness, 
but  resumed  his  employment  in  the  church-yards  of  Cromarty.  The 
publication  of  his  poems  was  sufficient  to  make  him  a  person  of  some 
importance  in  his  native  town.  He  associated  himself  with  the  bet- 
ter portion  of  its  inhabitants,  those  who  combined  a  moderate  liber- 
alism of  political  opinion  with  literary  or  scientific  tastes  and  strong 
religious  principles.  His  acquaintance  with  the  Rev.  Mr.  Stewart, 
which  had  formerly  been  slight,  now  deepened  into  intimacy,  and  no 
sooner  had  he  an  opportunity  of  knowing  Mr.  Stewart  well,  than  he 
conceived  for  him  the  highest  esteem,  and  dismissed  forever  from  his 
mind,  as  the  mere  fruits  of  misunderstanding,  what  he  had  formerly 
fancied  to  the  disadvantage  of  his  minister.  Miller's  profession  of 
religion,  also,  was  more  decided  than  formerly,  and  he  began  to 
teach  in  the  Sunday-school.  Hewing  under  sunny  skies  on  the 
chapel  brae,  he  often  finds  Mr.  Stewart  or  some  intelligent  friend 
stealing  to  his  side  to  give  and  take  an  hour's  conversation,  and 
sometimes  his  visitors  are  of  the  fair  sex.  The  journeyman  mason 
has  become  the  literary  lion  of  Cromarty. 

But  "nature's  noblest  gift"  to  Miller,  his  "gray  goose-quill,"  has 
not  been  laid  aside.  Turning  his  attention  to  prose,  and  availing 
himself  of  the  columns  of  the  "Inverness  Courier,"  which  his  friend 
Carruthers  gladly  throws  open,  to  him,  he  writes,  in  the  summer  of 
1829,  five  letters  on  the  Herring  Fishery,  which,  "in  consequence," 
said  Mr.  Carruthers,  "of  the  interest  they  excited  in  the  Northern 
Counties,  and  in  justice  to  their  modest  and  talented  author,  were 
issued  in  pamphlet  form  in  September  of  the  same  year.  They  are 
written  'with  much  vivacity,  and  abound  with  pertinent  remarks  and 
fine  descriptive  passages. 

These  letters  were  fitted  to  interest  many  to  whom  the  poems  of 
the  journeyman  mason  would  be  a  sealed  book.  Whatever  might 
be  his  rhyming  capabilities,  the  Cromarty  mason  was  clearly  a  man 
of  sense  and  talent.  The  circle  of  his  friends  and  admirers  con- 
tinued, therefore,  to  widen.  In  character  of  occasional  correspondent, 
he  contributed  items  of  news  and  occasional  articles  to  the  "Inver- 
ness Courier."  These  are  admirably  done,  and  in  some  of  them  we 
detect  impressions  and  opinions  cherished  by  Miller  to  the  last. 

Among  the  latest  of  these  contributions  to  the  "Inverness  Courier" 
is  one  helping  us  to  trace  one  of  the  most  interesting  stages  in  Mil- 


A    NEW    ACQUAINTANCE.  395 

ler's  intellectual  history,  namely,  the  transfer,  of  his  enthusiasm  and 
ambition  from  literature  to  science.  A  short  newspaper  article  on 
crab-fishing  marks  the  point  at  which  the  stream  of  scientific  acquire- 
ment which  had  long,  with  gathering  volume,  been  flowing  under- 
ground, rose  to  the  surface.  Miller  writes  as  one  who  has  from 
infancy  been  familiar  with  the  natural  objects  and  appearances  of  the 
Cromarty  beach,  and  who  had  not  written  about  them  sooner  merely 
because  it  did  not  occur  to  him  that  they  could  afford  occupation  to 
his  pen.  He  does  not  yet  adopt  a  scientific  nomenclature ;  but  he 
.describes  natural  objects  with  exquisite  precision  and  lucidity,  and 
dwells  upon  details  of  structure  which  the  mere  literary  sketcher  or 
anecdotic  sportsman  would  have  regarded  with  indifference.  He  has 
learned  also  to  contemplate,  not  in  vague  wonder  but  with  reverent 
and  delicate  appreciation,  the  mystery  and  miracle  of  God's  work  in 
nature.  "I  am  confident,"  he  says,  in  concluding  a  description  of 
the  sea-urchin,  "that  there  is  not  half  the  ingenuity,  or  half  the 
mathematical  knowledge,  displayed  in  the  dome  of  St.  Peter's,  at 
Rome,  or  St.  Paul's,  at  London,  that  we  find  exhibited  in  the  con- 
struction of  this  simple  shell." 

MILLER  AND  HIS  NEW  FRIENDS — INTRODUCED  TO  PRINCIPAL  BAIRD — 
WILL  NOT  GO  TO  EDINBURGH  FOR  THE  PRESENT — HIS  POEMS  DO  NOT 
SELL — WILL  NOT  RELINQUISH  LITERARY  AMBITION. 

Additions  were  made  to  the  previously  limited  number  of  Miller's 
friends  and  acquaintances,  occasioned  by  the  publication  of  his 
poems.  It  is  in  no  ordinary  degree  pleasing  to  observe  the  friendliness 
which  he  experienced  from  persons  greatly  his  superiors  in  social 
position,  and  the  manner  in  which  that  friendliness  was  responded  to 
by  him.  On  the  one  hand,  there  was  cordiality  without  the  faintest 
trace  of  the  "insolence  of  condescension;"  counsel  and  furtherance 
of  every  kind  to  the  utmost  limit  permitted  by  genuine  respect,  and 
by  sympathetic  apprehension  of  what  a  sensitively  proud  and  inde- 
pendent nature  required;  unfeigned  recognition  of  his  intellectual 
rank,  and  of  the  title  it  gave  him  to  be  treated  as  a  gentleman.  On 
the  other  hand  there  was  perfect  appreciation  of  all  this ;  gratitude 
not  for  patronage  to  the  mechanic,  but  for  fellowship  and  sympathy 
with  the  man ;  independence  not  petulantly  insisted  upon,  not  ob- 
trusively displayed,  but  quietly,  unaffectedly,  almost  unconsciously 
worn  as  habit  of  soul  and  principle  of  deportment.  Principal  Baircl, 
at  this  time  one  of  the  most  eminent  ministers  of  the  Church  of 
Scotland,  was  among  the  first  to  stretch  out  a  friendly  hand  to  the 
Cromarty  poet.  Miller  was  introduced  to  him  in  Inverness  by  Mr. 
Carruthers,  shortly  after  the  appearance  of  the  poems,  and  Baircl  sug- 
gested that  he  should  draw  up  that  account  of  his  education  and 
opinions  which  has  been  so  frequently  mentioned.  The  first  part 
of  the  narrative  was  soon  ready,  and  Miller  dispatched  it  in  the 


396  HUGH     MILLER. 

autumn  of  1829,  to  Baird  in  Edinburgh.  He  took  occasion  at  the 
same  time,  to  thank  Baird  for  "the  very  favorable  critique"  on  the 
poems  which  had  appeared  in  the  "  Caledonian  Mercury."  The 
critique  in  question  had  been  written  by  Dr.  James  Brown,  working 
editor  of  the  "  Encyclopaedia  Britannica,"  and  Baird  hastens  to  declare 
that  he  "had  no  hand  whatever,  directly  or  indirectly,"  in  its  publi- 
cation. "But  you  say  nothing,"  adds  Baird,  "in  your  letter  as  to 
my  suggestion,  when  at  Inverness,  of  giving  your  busy  hours  to  your 
profession  here  during  the  ensuing  winter,  and  your  leisure  hours  to 
reading  books,  and  plying  your  pen,  and  extending  your  acquaint- 
ance with  the  living  as  well  as  the  dead  world  of  literature."  These 
words  occur  in  a  letter  dated  November  24,  1829.  We  have  Miller's 
reply,  bearing  date  the  9th  of  the  following  December:  "From  my 
engagements  here  and  at  Inverness,  I  can  not  avail  myself  of  your 
kind  invitation  to  spend  the  winter  at  Edinburgh,  but  I  appreciate 
its  value,  and  feel  grateful  for  your  kindness.  My  acquaintance  with 
the  dead  world  of  literature  is  very  imperfect,  and  it  is  still  more  so 
with  the  living;  instead,  however,  of  regretting  this,  I  think  it  best 
to  congratulate  myself  on  the  much  pleasure  which,  from  this  circum- 
stance, there  yet  remains  for  me  to  enjoy.  If  I  live  eight  or  ten 
years  longer,  and  if  my  taste  for  reading  continues,  I  shall,  I  trust, 
pass  through  a  great  many  paradises  of  genius.  Half  the  creations 
of  Scott  are  still  before  me,  and  more  than  half  those  of  every  other 
modern  poet.  But  though  I  can  appreciate  the  value  of  an  oppor- 
tunity of  perusing  the  works  of  such  authors,  there  are  opportunities 
of  a  different  kind  to  be  enjoyed  in  Edinburgh,  which,  from  a  rather 
whimsical  bent  of  mind,  I  would  value  more  highly.  My  curiosity 
is  never  more  active  than  when  it  has  the  person  of  a  great  man  for 
its  object;  nor  have  I  felt  more  delight  in  any  thing  whatever  than 
in  associating  in  my  mind,  when  that  curiosity  was  gratified,  my 
newly  acquired  idea  of  the  personal  appearance  of  such  a  man  with 
the  ideas  I  had  previously  entertained  of  his  character  and  genius. 
When  I  resided  in  the  vicinity  of  Edinburgh,  I  have  sauntered  for 
whole  hours  opposite  the  house  of  Sir  Walter  Scott,  in  the  hope  of 
catching  a  glimpse  of  his  person ;  and  several  times,  when  some  tall, 
robust  man  has  passsed  me  in  the  streets,  I  have  inquired  of  my  com- 
panions whether  that  was  not  Professor  Wilson.  But,  perhaps  I 
am  more  ambitious  now  than  I  was  five  years  ago.  Perhaps  I 
would  not  be  satisfied  with  merely  seeing  such  men,  and  I  am  aware 
that  I  have  not  yet  done  any  thing  which  entitles  me  to  the  notice 
of  the  eminent,  though  in  one  instance,  I  have  been  so  fortunate  as 
to  attain  it.  I  must  achieve,  at  least,  a  little  of  what  I  have  hoped 
to  achieve  before  I  go  to  Edinburgh.  But  even  this  intention  must 
not  be  followed  up  with  too  great  eagerness.  Ortogrul  of  Basra,  after 
he  had  surveyed  the  palace  of  the  vizier,  despised  the  simple  neatness 
of  his  own  little  habitation.  I  must  be  careful  lest,  by  acquiring  too 
exclusive  a  bent  towards  literary  pursuits,  I  contract  a  distaste  for 


ONE    OF    THE     INCURABLES.  397 

those  employments  which,  though  not  very  pleasing  in  themselves, 
are,  in  my  case,  at  least,  intimately  connected  with  happiness.  I  do 
not  think  I  could  be  happy  without  being  independent,  and  I  can 
not  be  independent  except  as  a  mechanic." 

The  friendliness  both  of  Dr.  Baird  and  of  Mr.  Carruthers  was  too 
genuine  to  permit  indulgence  in  the  cheap  flattery  of  bidding  Miller 
abandon  his  trade  and  launch  into  the  perils  of  a  literary  life;  and  he 
had  the  manliness  and  sense  to  appreciate  their  discretion  while  valu- 
ing their  applause. 

"With  respect  to  literary  pursuits,"  he  says,  "I  have  every  claim  to  be 
regarded  as  one  of  the  incurables  mentioned  by  Goldsmith.  At  this 
moment  I  am  as  determined  upon  improving,  to  the  utmost,  my  ability 
as  a  writer  as  I  could  have  been,  had  the  public,  by  buying  my  work, 
rendered  the  speculation  a  good  one.  With  only  my  present  ability  to 
judge  of  my  own  powers,  the  event  can  alone  determine  whether, 
when  I  have  attained  the  art  of  writing,  I  shall  succeed  or  fail  in 
making  myself  known.  But  could  I  decide  whether  I  possess  or  be 
devoid  of  true  genius,  it  would  be  an  easy  matter  for  me  to  anticipate 
the  result.  If  destitute  of  this  spirit,  I  shall  certainly  not  rise  to 
eminence;  for  my  situation  in  life  is  not  one  of  those  in  which 
fortune  or  the  influence  of  friends  can  supply  the  want  of  ability,  or 
in  which  mediocrity  of  talent  can  become  admirable  by  clothing  itself 
in  the  spoils  of  learning.  My  education  is  imperfect;  I  can  not  even 
subsist  except  by  devoting  seven-eighths  of  my  waking  hours  to  the 
avocations  of  a  laborious  profession ;  and  I  have  no  claim  from  birth 
to  either  the  notice  of  the  eminent  or  the  patronage  of  the  influential. 
But  if  nature  has  bestowed  upon  me  that  spirit  of  genius  which  ulti- 
mately can  neither  be  repressed  nor  hidden,  then,  though  fortune 
should  serve  me  as  Jupiter  did  Briareus  when  he  buried  him  under 
Etna,  I  shall  assuredly  overturn  the  mountain." 


MISS  FRASER — HER  PARENTAGE,  RESIDENCE  IN  EDINBURGH,  POSITION 
IN  CROMARTY — SOCIETY  OF  THE  PLACE — MILLER'S  MANNER  AND 
APPEARANCE — A  FASCINATING  COMPANION — HE  AND  MISS  FRASER 
BECOME  LOVERS GLIMPSES  OF  ROMANCE  —  METAPHYSICAL  LOVE- 
MAKING A  NEW  AMBITION  AWAKES  IN  MILLER — FABLE  OF  APOLLO 

AND     DAPHNE     REVERSED LETTER    TO    MISS    FRASER — AND   TO    MRS. 

FRASER. 

In  the  summer  of  1831,  Hugh  Miller  first  saw  Miss  Lydia  Mackenzie 
Fraser.  About  a  year  before,  when  residing  with  relations  in  Surrey, 
this  young  lady  had  received  a  letter  from  her  mother,  in  which, 
among  other  descriptive  touches  relating  to  Cromarty,  occurred  the 
following  :  "  You  may  guess  what  are  its  literary  pretensions,  when  I 
tell  you  that  from  my  window  at  this  moment  I  see  a  stone-mason 
engaged  in  building  a  wall.  He  has  just  published  a  volume  of  poems, 


398  HUGH    MILLER. 

and  likewise  letters  on  the  herring  fishery ;  both  of  which  I  now  send 
you."  Miss  Fraser  was  quick,  intelligent,  interested  in  literature; 
this  announcement  naturally  excited  her  curiosity.  On  coming  to 
Cromarty  she  did  not  for  some  time  see  the  poetic  stone-mason,  and, 
when  she  did,  he  was  not  aware  that  her  eyes  rested  on  him.  She 
and  her  mother  had  stepped  in  to  have  a  look  at  a  school  recently 
opened  on  "  the  brae-head"  of  Cromarty,  when  a  man  entered,  look- 
ing like  a  working-man  in  his  Sunday  dress,  who,  as  a  whisper  from 
her  mother  informed  her,  was  Hugh  Miller.  She  was  struck  by  the 
deep  thoughtfulness  of  his  face  and  by  the  color  of  his  eyes,  "  a  deep 
blue,  tinged  with  sapphire."  The  first  occasion  on  which,  for  his 
part,  he  heard  her  name,  and  cast  an  attentive  glance  upon  her 
features,  was  that  which  is  described  in  the  "  Schools  and  School- 
masters." He  was  talking  with  two  ladies  beside  a  sun-dial,  which 
he  had  set  up  in  his  uncle's  garden,  when  she  "  came  hurriedly  trip- 
ping down  the  garden  walk"  and  joined  the  group.  "  She  was,"  he 
adds,  "  very  pretty ;  and,  though  in  her  nineteenth  year  at  the  time, 
her  light  and  somewhat  petite  figure,  and  the  waxen  clearness  of  her 
complexion,  which  resembled  rather  that  of  a  fair  child  than  of  a  grown 
woman,  made  her  look  from  three  to  four  years  younger."  Evidently, 
though  he  saw  her  but  for  a  few  minutes,  and  did  not  exchange  a 
word  with  her,  she  made  an  unusual  impression  upon  him. 

The  probability,  in  fact,  was,  that  this  young  lady  would  form  an 
important  addition  to  the  circle  of  his  acquaintance,  and  to  that  of 
the  intellectual  "upper  ten"  in  Cromarty.  Both  beauty  and  talent 
had  been  among  the  attributes  of  the  stock  from  which  she  sprung, 
The  "  lovely  Barbara  Hossack,"  and  several  other  women  noted  in 
the  Highlands  for  their  persona'l  attractions,  had  been  of  her  ancestry 
on  the  female  side ;  Provost  Hossack,  of  Inverness,  trusted  friend  of 
President  Forbes  and  honored  intercessor  with  the  Duke  of  Cumber- 
land for  the  vanquished  of  Culloden  ;  Mr.  Lachlan  Mackenzie,  famed 
Highland  preacher,  of  whom  tradition  in  the  northern  Scotch  coun- 
ties has  much  to  report;  and  the  Mackenzies  of  Red  castle,  "said  to 
be  the  most  ancient  house  in  the  north  of  Scotland,"  had  been 
among  her  kindred  in  the  line  of  male  descent.  Her  father,  notably 
handsome  in  youth,  and  famous  in  Strathnairn  as  a  deer-stalker,  en- 
tered, later  in  life,  into  business  in  Inverness,  and  was  at  first  pros- 
perous, but,  being  generous  and  unsuspecting  to  a  fault,  was  robbed 
by  a  clerk  and  beguiled  by  a  relative,  and  at  last  overborne  by  disap- 
pointments and  difficulties. 

After  the  death  of  Mr.  Fraser,  his  widow,  possessing  some  small 
property  of  her  own,  went  to  live  in  Cromarty.  His  daughter  had 
been  taken  away  by  relatives  in  Surrey  when  his  affairs  were  getting 
into  confusion.  She  had  received  the  best  education  obtainable  at 
the  time  by  young  ladies.  Having  resided  in  Edinburgh  in  the  house 
of  Mr.  George  Thomson,  the  correspondent  of  Burns,  she  had  had 
the  benefit  not  only  of  being  instructed  by  Edinburgh  masters,  but  of 


LITERARY     CIRCLE     OF     CRO  MARTY.  399 

being  introduced  to  a  singularly  pleasant  and  rather  distinguished 
circle  of  society.  George  Thomson  attracted  to  his  musical  parties 
the  most  skillful  and  enthusiastic  votaries  of  Scottish  music  in  Edin- 
burgh. Nor  were  literature  and  art  unrepresented  at  those  gatherings. 
Scott  himself,  never  out  of  his  element  when  kindness  and  intelli- 
gence ruled  the  hour,  had  appeared  sometimes  among  Thomson's 
guests,  though  this  was  before  Miss  Fraser  became  an  inmate  of  his 
dwelling.  James  Ballantyne  and  his  brother  Alexander  were  frequently 
of  the  number.  James  had  the  gift  of  singing  "  Tullochgorum  "  with 
rough  heartiness.  Alexander  was  an  exquisite  violinist.  Pieces  from 
Beethoven,  Mozart,  and  their  compeers,  were  performed  at  those 
parties,  Thomson's  preference  for  Scottish  music  by  no  means  render- 
ing him  insensible  to  the  claims  of  other  schools.  Thomson,  of  Dud- 
dingston,  who,  when  clear  and  unapproached  pre-eminence  has  been 
allowed  to  Turner,  must  be  placed  high  among  the  landscape  painters, 
not  only  of  Scotland  but  of  Great  Britain,  was  sometimes  present, 
attracted,  perhaps,  by  the  original  portrait  of  Burns,  by  Nasmyth,  or 
Wilkie's  Auld  Robin  Gray,  both  of  which  adorned  George  Thomson's 
drawing-room.  Mrs.  Grant,  of  Laggan,  and  Tennant,  of  "Anster 
Fair,"  figured  among  the  literary  celebrities. 

A  young  lady,  of  great  natural  ability,  accustomed  to  polite  society 
in  Surrey,  and  advantageously  educated  and  introduced  in  Edinburgh, 
would  be  likely  to  shine  in  the  intellectual  circle  of  Cromarty.  For 
a  very  small  town,  Cromarty  was  happy  in  the  quality  of  its  inhabit- 
ants. The  Rev.  Mr.  Stewart  was  the  central  star  in  its  social  firma- 
ment, his  supremacy  beginning  about  this  time  to  be  disputed  by 
Miller.  Not  that  there  was  ftny  thought  of  rivalry  or  jealousy  on 
either  side ;  they  were  the  closest  and  most  faithful  friends ;  but  that 
the  reputation  of  Miller  even  in  its  dawn  shot  its  rays  to  a  wicker 
horizon  than  had  as  yet  been  reached  by  Mr.  Stewart's,  and  that  the 
culture  of  the  minister  was,  in  all  save  theological  reading  and  gram- 
matical knowledge  of  Greek  and  Latin,  narrower  than  that  of  the 
parishioner.  A  colonel,  a  captain,  both  intelligent  beyond  the  average 
of  their  class,  with  ladies  to  match,  a  banker,  who  had  been  an  officer 
in  the  navy,  and  retained  professional  enthusiasm  enough  to  make 
him  study  naval  history  until  he  became  a  walking  encyclopaedia  of 
information  on  sea-battles — these,' with  a  variety  of  studious  and  ac- 
complished ladies,  eminent,  some  for  Calvinistic  metaphysics,  some 
for  geological  predilections,  made  up  the  cluster  of  notabilities  which 
circled  round  Alexander  Stewart  and  Hugh  Miller,  the  Duke  and 
the  Goethe  of  this  miniature  Weimar.  The  women  had  their  full 
share  of  the  intellect  of  the  place,  or  more.  "  By  much  the  greater 
half  of  the  collective  mind  of  the  town,"  says  Miller  in  one  of  his 
letters,  "  is  vested  in  the  ladies."  It  speaks  for  the  sterling  worth  as 
well  as  the  intellectual  penetration  of  the  Cromarty  notables,  that  they 
welcomed  to  a  footing  of  perfect  social  equality  the  man  who  was  to 
be  seen  any  forenoon,  bare-armed,  dusty- visaged,  with  mallet  in  hand 


400  HUGH    MILLER. 

and  apron  in  front,  making  his  bread  by  cutting  inscriptions  in  the 
church-yard.  With  Miller  any  intercourse  but  that  of  perfect  equality 
would  have  been  impossible.  Diffident  in  company  as  he  was,  his 
pride  was  as  inflexible  as  that  of  Burns,  and,  if  possible,  more  sensi- 
tive. The  slightest  trace  of  condescending  patronage  would  have 
driven  him  away,  and  forever.  The  colonels  and  captains  who  were 
to  be  found  in  country  towns  at  this  period  were  generally  men  of 
the  French  war,  men  who  had  seen  enough  of  life  and  action  to  bring 
out  the  stronger  lines  of  their  character,  men  frank  of  bearing,  direct 
of  speech,  and  perfectly  brave.  In  the  Highland  towns  they  were 
likely  to  be  cadets  of  old  Highland  houses.  Constitutional  fondness 
for  war,  concurrently  with  shallowness  of  the  paternal  purse,  had  led 
many  such  into  the  army.  Pride  as  well  as  courage  was  likely  to  be 
hereditary  with  these  military  gentlemen,  and  it  is,  I  repeat,  to  the 
credit  of  those  of  Cromarty  that  they  recognized  Miller  for  what  he 
was,  a  man  qualified  to  adorn  and  delight  any  circle. 

Once  the  singularity  of  admitting  a  stone-mason  to  social  fellowship 
was  got  over,  the  charm  of  Miller's  acquaintance  would  secure  his 
footing.  All  who  knew  him  with  any  degree  of  intimacy  have  testi- 
fied to  the  fascination  of  his  presence.  For  women  in  particular  his 
manner  and  conversation  had  an  exquisite  charm.  The  leonine  rough- 
ness of  his  exterior,  the  shaggy  hair,  the  strong-boned,  overhanging 
brows,  the  head  carried  far  forward,  and  shoulders  bent  as  with  brood- 
ing thought,  the  working-man's  gait  and  gesture,  lent  the  enchantment 
of  a  delicate  surprise  to  the  deep  gentleness  which  they  disguised. 
Never  was  the  difference  between  the  conventional  gentleman  and  the 
true  gentleman — the  possibility  that  one  may  be  every  inch  a  true 
gentleman  and  yet  every  inch  not  a  conventional  gentleman — more 
signally  illustrated  than  in  the  case  of  Miller.  A  fine  and  tender 
sympathy,  the  soul  of  politeness,  enabled  him,  spontaneously,  uncon- 
sciously, to  feel  with  every  feeling,  to  think  with  every  thought,  of  the 
person  with  whom  he  conversed.  The  faculty  of  skillful  and  kindly 
listening  is  rarer  even  than  that  of  fluent  and  brilliant  talk,  and  Miller 
had  it  in  fine  perfection.  He  had,  however,  the  gift  of  captivating 
speech  as  well.  His  conversation,  though  never  voluble,  impulsive, 
precipitate,  exhibited  the  action  not  only  of  a  powerful  but  of  an 
educated  intellect,  practiced  in  logic  and  trained  to  the  expert  use  of  its 
linguistic  instruments.  He  never  was  at  a  loss  for  an  idea,  never  at  a 
loss  for  a  word,  and  the  stores  of  his  memory  afforded  him  an  exhaust- 
less  supply  of  illustration  from  what  he  had  seen  in  nature  or  read  in 
books.  There  was  a  pensiveness,  also,  in  his  tone,  a  profound  sadness 
in  his  eye,  a  touch  of  egotistic  melancholy  about  him,  which  is  a  spell 
of  absolute  inthrallment  for  most  women,  and,  indeed,  for  most  men. 
"The  bewitching  smile,"  says  Mr.  Disraeli,  "usually  beams  from  the 
grave  face.  It  is  then  irresistible." 

Miss  Fraser,  as  we  should  have  expected,  was  not  without  admirers 
of  the  other  sex  at  the  time  when  she  formed  the  acquaintance  of 


HIS     FIRST     LOVE.  401 

Hugh  Miller.  They  were  "younger  and  dressed  better"  than  the 
stone-mason,  and  had  chosen  "the  liberal  professions."  But  no  man 
has  so  strong  an  attraction  for  a  superior  girl  as  a  man  of  brains, 
and  Miller's  seniority  of  ten  years  was  in  his  favor  rather  than  the 
reverse,  in  the  contest  with  more  juvenile  rivals.  Miss  Fraser,  meet- 
ing him  here  and  there  in  society,  was  interested  by  his  conversation. 
On  sunny  forenoons,  she  might  pause  in  her  walk  to  have  a  chat  with 
him  in  the  church-yard.  On  which  side  the  friendship  first  glowed 
into  a  warmer  feeling  need  not  be  determined  ;  probably  they  be- 
came lovers  almost  simultaneously ;  and  it  is  certain  that  this  his  first 
and  last  love  took  entire  possession  of  Miller's  heart. 

A  number  of  materials, — letters  of  the  period,  memoranda,  note- 
books,— illustrative  of  this  part  of  the  history,  have  come  into  my 
hands,  and  from  these  I  have  selected  at  my  own  discretion,  and 
on  my  own  responsibility.  Here  is  a  glimpse  of  him  from  an  au- 
thentic source,  when  he  seems  to  have  been  already  pretty  far  gone : 
"One  evening  we  (Miss  Fraser  and  Hugh  Miller)  encountered  each 
other  by  chance  in  a  wooded  path  of  the  hill,  above  which  slope  a 
few  cultivated  fields  skirted  by  forest.  Hugh  Miller  prevailed  on  me 
to  accompany  him  to  a  point  which  commands  a  fine  view  of  the 
frith  and  surrounding  country.  We  sat  down  to  rest  at  the  edge  of  a 
pine  wood,  in  a  little  glade  fragrant  with  fallen  cones,  and  ankle- 
deep  in  the  spiky  leaves  .of  the  firs.  I  sat  on  the  stump  of  a  felled 
tree.  He  threw  himself  on  the  ground,  two  or  three  yards  from  my 
feet.  The  sun  was  just  setting,  and  lighted  up  the  pillared  trunks 
around  with  a  deep,  copper-colored  glow.  Hugh  took  out  a  volume 
of  Goldsmith.  When  did  he  ever  want  a  companion  of  that  descrip- 
tion ?  He  read  in  a  low  voice  the  story  of  Edwin  and  Angelina.  It 
was  then  I  first  suspected  that  he  had  a  secret  which  he  had  not 
revealed." 

Things  had  reached  this  rather  critical  posture,  when  Mrs.  Fraser, 
alarmed  at  the  notion  that  her  daughter  might  bestow  her  heart  and 
hand  on  a  mechanic,  commanded  that  the  intimacy  should  be  broken 
off.  The  young  lady  was  disconsolate;  wept  much;  felt  "  like  a  poor 
little  parasite  which  had  succeeded  in  laying  hold  of  some  strong  and 
stately  tree,  and  which  a  powerful  blast  had  laid  prostrate  in  the  dust." 
Under  these  circumstances  the  following  entry  from  the  same  hand  will 
not  seem  surprising : 

"  It  was  late  on  the  evening  of  a  very  hot  summer  Sabbath  during 
the  time  of  interdict,  that,  feeling  listless  and  weary,  I  crept  out  a 
little  to  breathe  the  air.  I  had  no  intention  of  walking, — did  not 
even  put  on  .bonnet  or  shawl.  I  stole  down  the  grassy  garden-path 
and  listened  to  the  murmur  of  the  sea,  whose  waves  beat  on  the 
shore  at  a  stone's  throw  beyond.  But  the  night  was  still  sultry,  and  I 
imagined  that,  by  getting  to  the  top  of  some  eminence,  I  might  find 
the  cooling  breeze  for  which  I  longed.  So  I  found  myself,  I  scarcely 
knew  how,  at  the  ancient  chapel  of  St.  Regulus.  There  the  trees 
26 


402  HUGH    MILLER. 

which  line  the  sides  of  the  ravine  by  which  it  is  surrounded  waved 
the  tops  of  their  branches,  the  blue  sea  looked  forth  between,  and  as 
the  twilight  gave  place  to  night  the  stars  began  to  twinkle  forth.  I 
stood  on  the  edge  of  the  hill  enjoying  the  slight  breeze  and  the  soft 
brightness  of  earth  and  sky,  when  suddenly  I  perceived  that  Hugh 
stood  beside  me.  He  spoke  of  the  sweetness  of  the  evening,  the 
beauty  of  the  landscape,  and  so  on ;  but  his  speech  was  cold  and  re- 
served, and  he  made  no  allusion  to  our  peculiar  position.  Possibly 
his  pride  was  touched  by  it.  At  that  very  time,  however,  as  he  after- 
wards told  me,  he  cut  a  notch  in  the  wood  of  a  beam  which  crossed 
the  roof  of  his  cottage  for  every  day  on  which  we  had  not  met.  He 
stayed  but  a  short  time  there,  leaving  me  standing  just  where  he  had 
found  me ;  but  there  was  no  notch  on  that  day.  I  on  my  part  knelt 
at  a  cold  grave-stone,  and  registered  over  the  dead  a  vow,  rash  and 
foolish  perhaps;  but  it  was  kept." 

From  these  suggestive  glimpses,  readers  of  imagination  and  sensi- 
bility will  gather  all  the  information  that  is  necessary  upon  the  sub- 
ject. This  love  affair  was  clearly  romantic,  but  not  the  less  real  on 
that  account.  A  judicious  mother,  reflecting  probably  that  young  la- 
dies of  nineteen  are  not  likely  to  cease  to  love  for  being  told  to  do  so, 
removed  the  interdict,  and  though  marriage  was  for  the  present  to  be 
considered  as  out  of  the  question,  the  young  people  were  permitted  to 
enjoy  each  other's  society. 

It  would  be  a  mistake  to  suppose  that  the  intellectual  benefit  of 
their  intercourse  was  entirely  on  the  side  of  the  lady.  Her  mind,  if 
not  so  well  stored,  so  deliberate,  so  patiently  thoughtful,  as  that  of 
her  lover,  had  the  piercing  clearness  and  acuteness  of  good  female  in- 
tellect, and  would  sometimes  strike  direct  to  the  heart  of  a  subject 
when  circumspect  and  meditative  Hugh  was  gyrating  round  and  round 
it.  On  one  occasion,  for  example, — one  probably  of  many, — the  pair 
had  enjoyed  a  game  of  chop-logic  apropos  of  that  venerable  problem, 
the  origin  of  evil.  Miller's  argument,  as  placed  before  Miss  Fraser, 
I  can  not  state  in  his  own  words,  but  its  substance  is  derivable  from  a 
letter  of  his  to  Miss  Dunbar,  of  Boath.  "May  not  evil,"  suggests 
Hugh,  who,  however,  pronounces  the  question,  in  the  essence  of  it, 
unanswerable,  "  be  the  shade  with  which  good  is  contrasted  that  it 
may  be  known  as  good,  the  sickness  to  which  it  is  opposed  as  health, 
the  deformity  beside  which  it  is  shown  forth  as  beauty?  Nay,  may  it 
not  be  affirmed  that  the  plan  of  the  Deity  would  not  have  been  a  per- 
fect one  if  it  did  not  include  imperfection,  nor  a  wise  one  if  it 
admitted  not  of  folly,  nor  a  good  one  if  evil  did  not  form  a  part  of 
it?  Is  there  not  something  like  this  implied  in  the  remarkable  text 
which  informs  us  that  the  weakness  of  God  is  mightier  than  the 
strength  of  men,  and  his  foolishness  more  admirable  than  their  wis- 
dom?" All  which  plausible  balancing  of  advantage  and  disadvan- 
tage, Miss  Fraser  brings  front  to  front  with  the  sheer  mystery  of  pain. 
"Allowing,"  she  writes,  "that  the  actual  contrast  between  good  and 


THE     LOVER     DISENCHANTED.  403 

evil,  ease  and  suffering,  increased  our  value  for  the  ease  and  the  good, 
how  reconcile  with  our  ideas  of  justice  the  fact  that  there  are  thou- 
sands born  to  suffer  continual  pain,  and  to  be  depraved  forever? 
Two  thousand  gladiators  once  lay  expiring  in  the  Roman  Ampitheater, 
but  does  it  reconcile  us  to  the  fact  that  hundreds  of  thousands  of 
spectators  were  delighted  with  the  scene?  This  metaphysician,  for 
all  her  petite  figure,  waxen  clearness  of  complexion,  and  child-like 
appearance,  has  not,  to  my  knowledge,  received  a  satisfactory  answer 
to  her  question  either  from  Hugh  Miller  or  any  one  else.  Such  a 
lady-love  was  capable  of  furnishing  intellectual  diamond  dust  of  very 
superior  quality  for  the  sharpening  of  a  man's  wits. 

'  Miss  Eraser's  intercourse  with  Miller — the  relation  in  which  he  was 
now  placed  with  her — was  beneficial  to  him  in  another  way.  It 
broke  up  the  theory  of  life  which  he  had  formed  for  himself,  and 
replaced  it  by  one  of  a  more  masculine  character.  Profoundly  imbued 
as  he  was  with  the  aynbition  of  self-culture,  and  loving  praise  with 
the  ardor  of  a  born  literary  man,  he  was  nevertheless  firmly  persuaded 
that,  in  the  rank  of  mason,  in  the  town  of  Cromarty,  he  could  enjoy 
as  much  happiness  as  it  was  possible  for  him  to  enjoy  on  earth.  A 
wife,  he  thought,  he  could  dispense  with ;  no  passion,  except  the 
passions  of  the  mind,  had  ever  seriously  moved  him ;  and  though  he 
took  special  delight  in  conversation  with  clever  women,  he  could 
have  that  conversation  without  marriage.  He  would  ply  the  mallet 
in  the  summer  days ;  he  would  owe  no  man  a  sixpence ;  he  would 
read  his  favorite  books  in  the  evenings  of  June,  and  the  short  days 
of  December ;  he  would  train  himself  to  ever-increasing  vigor  and 
grace  of  style,  and  would  write  with  the  fresh  enthusiasm  of  one  for 
whom  literature  was  its  own  reward.  Thus  was  he  contented  to  live 
and  to  die;  the  world,  it  was  his  inflexible  conviction,  had  nothing 
better  than  this  to  offer  him.  If  the  question  were  simply  of  more 
or  less  happiness,  it  would  be  difficult  to  prove  that  in  all  this  he  was 
wrong.  The  quality,  however,  of  the  happiness  would  not  have  been 
the  highest,  and  he  might  have  awakened  from  his  idyl  of  intellec- 
tual luxury  to  the  consciousness  that,  in  evading  the  pains  of  action, 
he  had  missed  the  sternest,  but  the  noblest  joys  of  life.  When  Miss 
Fraser  taught  him  to  understand  the  love-poetry  of  Burns,  as  he  ex- 
pressly says  she  did,  he  bade  adieu  forever,  though  not  without  a 
sigh,  to  the  tranquil  hopes  which  had  hitherto  inspired  him.  He 
told  Miss  Fraser  that  she  had  spoiled  a  good  philosopher,  and  it  was 
with  no  exultation,  though  with  calm  and  fixed  resolution,  that  he  felt 
the  spirit  of  the  philosophic  recluse  die  within  him  and  the  spirit  of 
the  man  arise.  The  classic  fable  was  reversed.  Daphne  overtook 
and  disenchanted  her  lover.  Miller  awoke  from  the  dream  which 
was  stealing  over  him ;  the  roots  which  had  already  struck  deep  into 
his  native  soil,  and  which  promised  to  bind  him  down  to  a  mild, 
tree-like  existence  on  the  hill  of  Cromarty,  were  snapped  asunder; 
a  stronger  circulation  swept  in  fierce  thrills  along  his  veins;  and  with 


4°4  HUGH    MILLER. 

new  hope,  new  ambition,  new  aspiration,  he  girded  up  his  loins  for 
the  race  of  life.  Hitherto,  "he  professed  just  what  he  felt,  to  be 
content  with  a  table,  a  chair,  and  a  pot,  with  a  little  fire  in  his  grate, 
and  a  little  meat  to  cook  on  it."  He  professed  such  contentment  no 
longer ;  for  himself  he  could  have  lived  and  died  a  working-man,  but 
he  could  not  endure  the  idea  of  his  wife  being  in  any  rank  save  that 
of  a  lady. 

Habitually  self-conscious,  observant  of  every  event  in  his  mental 
history,  Miller  did  not  fail  to  mark  the  change  which  had  passed  over 
him.  In  a  letter  written  in  the  summer  of  1834,  he  describes  it  with 
grace,  naivete,  and  lightness  of  touch,  to  her  who  was  its  cause.  The 
first  part  of  the  letter-  is  unimportant,  but  it  may  as  well  be  inserted 
for  the  illustration  it  affords  of  his  simple  and  pleasurable  mode  of 
life  in  Cromarty  at  this  period  : 

"CROMARTY,  Wednesday,  12  o'clock. 

"I  am  afraid  you  are  still  unwell.  Your  window  was  shut  till  near 
ten  this  morning,  and,  as  I  saw  no  light  from  it  last  evening,  I  must 

conclude  you  went  early  to  bed.  How  very  inefficient,  my  L , 

are  the  friendships  of  earth !  My  heart  is  bound  up  in  you,  and 
yet  I  can  only  wish  and  regret,  and — yes,  pray.  Well,  that  is  some- 
thing. I  can  not  regulate  your  pulses,  nor  dissipate  your  pains,  nor 
give  elasticity  to  your  spirits;  but  I  can  implore  on  your  behalf  the 
great  Being  who  can.  Would  that,  both  for  your  sake  and  my  own, 
my  prayers  had  the  efficacy  of  those  described  by  simple-hearted 

James!*  They  are  sincere,  my  L ,  when  you  form  the  burden 

of  them,  but  they  are  not  the  prayers  of  the  righteous.  .  .  . 

"  My  mother,  as  you  are  aware,  has  a  very  small  garden  behind  her 
house.  It  has  produced,  this  season,  one  of  the  most  gigantic  thistles, 
of  the  kind  which  gardeners  term  the  Scotch,  that  I  ever  yet  saw. 
The  height  is  fully  nine  feet,  the  average  breadth  nearly  five.  Some 
eight  years  ago  I  intended  building  a  little  house  for  myself  in  this 
garden.  I  was  to  cover  it  outside  with  ivy,  and  to  line  it  inside  with 
books ;  and  he,re  was  I  to  read,  and  write,  and  think  all  my  life  long ; 
not  altogether  so  independent  of  the  world  as  Diogenes  in  his  tub,  or 
the  savage  in  the  recesses  of  the  forest,  but  quite  as  much  as  is  pos- 
sible for  man  in  his  social  state.  Here  was  I  to  attain  to  wealth,  not 
by  increasing  my  goods,  but  by  moderating  my  desires.  Of  the  thirst 
after  wealth  I  had  none — I  could  live  on  half  a  crown  per  week,  and 
be  content;  nor  yet  was  I  desirous  of  power — I  sought  not  to  be  any 
man's  master,  and  I  had  spirit  enough  to  preserve  me  from  being  any 
man's  slave.  I  had  no  heart  to  oppress ;  why  wish,  then,  for  the  seat 
or  the  power  of  the  oppressor  ?  I  had  no  dread  of  being  subjected 

*"The  effectual,  fervent  prayer  of  a  righteous  man   availeth  much." — James 
v.  16. 


LETTER    TO     MRS.     FRASER.  405 

to  oppression ;  did  the  proudest  or  the  loftiest  dare  infringe  on  my 
rights  as  a  man,  there  might  be  disclosed  to  him,  perchance, 

'"Through  peril  and  alarm 
The  might  that  slumbered  in  a  peasant's  arm.' 

"Even  for  fame  itself  I  had  no  very  exciting  desire.  If  I  met  with  it 
in  quest  of  amusement,  well ;  if  not,  I  could  be  happy  enough  without 
it.  So  much  for  the  great  disturbers  of  human  life, — avarice  and  am- 
bition, and  the  thirst  of  praise.  My  desires  were  not  tall  enough  to 
penetrate  into  those  upper  regions  which  they  haunt ;  I  was  too  low 
for  them,  and  for  the  inferior  petty  disturbers  of  men's  habits  I  was 
certainly  too  high.  Love,  for  instance,  I  could  have  nothing  to  fear 
from.  I  knew  myself  to  be  naturally  of  a  cool  temperament;  and, 
then,  were  not  my  attachments  to  my  friends  so  many  safety-valves? 
Besides,  no  woman  of  taste  could  ever  love  me,  for  I  was  ugly  and 
awkward  ;  and  as  I  could  love  only  a  woman  of  taste,  and  could  never 
submit  to  woo  one  to  whom  I  was  indifferent,  my  being  ugly  and  awk- 
ward was  an  iron  wall  to  me.  No,  no,  I  had  nothing  to  fear  from  love. 

My  own  dear  L ,  only  see  how  much  good  philosophy  you  have 

spoiled.  I  am  not  now  indifferent  to  wealth  or  power  or  place  in  the 
world's  eye.  I  would  fain  be  rich,  that  I  might  render  you  comfort- 
able ;  powerful,  that  I  might  raise  you  to  those  high  places  .of  society 
which  you  are  so  fitted  to  adorn ;  celebrated,  that  the  world  might 
justify  your  choice.  I  never  think  now  of  building  the  little  house, 
or  of  being  happiest  in  solitude ;  and  if  my  life  is  lo  be  one  of  celi- 
bacy, it  must  be  one  of  sorrow  also, — of  heart-wasting  sorrow — but  I 
must  not  think  of  that." 

One  other  letter  upon  this  subject  we  must  not  omit.  It  was  ad- 
dressed by  Miller  to  Mrs.  Fraser: 

"CROMARTY,  November  2,  1833. 

"My  DEAR  MADAM: — I  trust  ingratitude  is  not  among  the  number 
of  my  faults.  But  how  render  apparent  the  sense  I  entertain  of  your 
kindness  in  so  warmly  interesting  yourself  in  my  welfare?  Just  by 
laying  my  whole  mind  open  before  you.  Two  years  ago  there  was  not 
a  less  ambitious  or  more  contented  sort  of  person  than  myself  in  the 
whole  kingdom.  I  knew  happiness  to  be  altogether  independent  of 
external  circumstances;  I  more  than  knew  it, — I  felt  it.  My  days 
passed  on  in  a  quiet,  even  tenor;  and  though  poor,  and  little  known, 
and  bound  down  to  a  life  of  labor,  I  could  yet  anticipate,  without  one 
sad  feeling,  that  in  all  these  respects  my  future  life  was  to  resemble 
the  past.  Why  should  I  regret  my  poverty?  I  was  independent,  in 
debt  to  no  one,  and  in  possession  of  all  I  had  been  accustomed  to 
regard  as  the  necessaries  of  life.  Why  sigh  over  my  obscurity  ?  My 
lot  was  that  of  the  thousands  around  me ;  and,  beside,  was  I  not 
born  to  an  immortality  too  sublime  to  borrow  any  of  its  grandeur  or 


4°  HUGH     MILLER. 

importance  from  the  mock  immortality  of  fame?  Why  repine  be- 
cause my  life  was  to  be  one  of  continual  labor  ?  I  had  acquired  ha- 
bits of  industry,  and  had  learned  from  experience  that,  if  labor  be 
indeed  a  curse,  the  curse  of  indolence  is  by  far  the  weightier  of  the 
two.  It  will  not  surprise  you,  my  dear  madam,  that,  entertaining 
such  sentiments,  I  should  have  used  no  exertions,  and  expressed  no 
wish,  to  quit  my  obscure  sphere  of  life  for  a  higher.  Why  should  I? 
I  carried  my  happiness  about  with  me,  and  was  independent  of  every 
external  circumstance. 

"I  shall  not  say  that  I  still  continue  to  think  and  feel  after  this 
manner,  for,  though  quite  the  same  sort  of  man  at  present  that  I  was 
then,  I  have,  perhaps,  ascertained  that  my  happiness  does  not  now 
center  so  exclusively  in  myself.  To  you,  I  dare  say,  I  need  not  be 
more  explicit.  But  though  in  consequence  of  this  discovery,  I  have 
become  somewhat  solicitous  perhaps  of  rising  a  step  or  two  higher  in 
the  scale  of  society,  I  find  it  is  one  thing  to  wish  and  quite  another 
to  attempt.  I  find,  too,  that  habits  long  indulged  in,  and  formed 
under  the  influence  of  sentiments  such  as  I  describe,  must  militate  so 
powerfully  against  me,  if  that  attempt  be  made,  as  to  leave  little 
chance  of  success.  My  lack  of  a  classical  education  has  barred  against 
me  all  the  liberal  professions ;  I  have  no  turn  for  business  matters ; 
and  the  experience  of  about  twelve  years  has  taught  me  that,  as  an 
architect  or  contractor  (professions  which,  during  at  least  that  space 
of  time,  have  been  the  least  fortunate  in  this  part  of  the  kingdom  of 
all  others),  I  can  indulge  no  rational  hope  of  realizing  what  I  desire. 
There  is  one  little  plan,  however,  which  is  rather  more  a  favorite 
with  me  than  any  of  the  others.  I  think  I  have  seen  men  not  much 
more  clever  than  myself,  and  possessed  of  not  much  greater  command 
of  the  pen,  occupying  respectable  places  in  the  ephemeral  literature 
of  the  day  as  editors  of  magazines  and  newspapers,  and  deriving  from 
their  labors  incomes  of  from  one  to  three  hundred  pounds  per  annum. 
A  very  little  application,  if  I  do  not  overrate  my  abilities,  natural  and 
acquired,  might  fit  me  for  occupying  a  similar  place,  and,  of  course, 
deriving  a  corresponding  remuneration.  But  how  push  myself  for- 
ward? Simply  in  this  manner.  I  have  lately  written,  as  I  dare  say 
you  are  aware,  a  small  traditional  work,  which  I  have  submitted  to 
the  consideration  of  some  of  the  literati  of  Edinburgh,  and  of  which 
they  have  signified  their  approval  in  a  style  of  commendation  far  sur- 
passing my  fondest  anticipations.  I  shall  try  and  get  it  published.  If 
it  succeed  in  attracting  any  general  notice,  I  shall  consider  my  literary 
abilities,  such  as  they  are,  fairly  in  the  market;  if  (what  is  more  pro- 
bable) it  fail,  I  shall  just  strive  to  forget  the  last  two  years  of  my  life, 
and  try  whether  I  can  not  bring  a  very  dear  friend  to  forget  them  too. 
God  has  not  suffered  me  in  the  past  to  be  either  unhappy  njyself  or 
a  cause  of  unhappiness  to  those  whom  I  love,  and  I  can  trust  that  he 
will  deal  with  me  after  the  same  fashion  in  the  future.  I  need  not  say, 
my  dear  madam,  that  I  write  in  confidence,  and  for  your  own  eye  alone. 


THINKS    OF     EMIGRATING    TO    AMERICA.  407 

If  I  fail  in  my  little  scheme,  I  shall  bear  my  disappointment  all  the 
better  if  it  be  not  known  that  I  built  much  upon  it,  or  looked  much 
beyond  it.  In  such  an  event,  the  pity  of  people  who,  in  the  main,  are 
less  happy  than  myself  (and  the  great  bulk  of  mankind  are  certainly 
not  happier)  shall,  I  trust,  never  be  solicited  by, 

I  "My  dear  Madam,  etc. 


NEW  OUTLOOK   IN   LIFE — DIFFICULTIES   OF   PUBLICATION — LETTERS   TO 

MISS   FRASER. 

The  quiet  of  intellectual  luxury  and  philosophical  contentment, 
broken  up  by  the  agitation  of  a  more  genially  inspiring  hope;  the 
pride  of  the  stone-mason,  who  has  been  accepted  as  lover  by  a  lady 
forbidding  him  to  place  her  in  any  position  in  which  the  world 
might  fail  to  recognize  her  for  what  she  was — Miller  now  looked 
anxiously  round  him  for  some  means  of  bettering  his  social  status. 
He  often  thought  of  the  backwoods  of  America ;  but,  though  the 
project  of  emigration  may  have  had  some  charms  for  his  fancy,  it 
never  laid  hold  on  his  heart.  He  may  have  seen  himself,  with  his 
mind's  eye,  a  brawny  pioneer  of  civilization,  making  clear,  with  stal- 
wart arm  and  glowing  forehead,  a  space  in  the  primeval  forest,  to  be 
occupied  with  field  and  garden  and  homestead,  and  at  moments  there 
may  have  been  fascination  in  the  view;  but  his  affections  were  an- 
chored in  Scotland.  His  -favorite  idea,  therefore,  as  we  saw  in  the 
preceding  letter,  was  that  he  might  undertake  the  editorship  of  a 
Scottish  newspaper.  Some  offer  of  the  kind  reached  him  from  Inver- 
ness, but  he  did  not  consider  it  eligible.  He  shrank  from  the  risk 
of  depending  for  a  livelihood  upon  promiscuous  contribution  to  peri- 
odicals, and  had  the  shrewdness  to  be  aware  that,  neither  by  his 
poems  nor  by  his  letters  on  the  herring  fishery,  had  he  attained  celeb- 
rity enough  to  command  for  his  productions  a  ready  sale  and  a 
high  price  in  the  market  of  current  literature.  His  disposition  was 
at  all  times  the  reverse  of  sanguine,  and  the  largest  and  most  radiant 
possibility  had  a  less  attraction  for  him  than  a  very  small  certainty. 

For  the  present,  therefore,  he  determined  to  watch  and  wait,  con- 
centrating his  efforts  on  the  improvement  of  his  prose  style,  and 
preparing  a  prose  work  which  might  conclusively  scale  for  him  the 
heights  of  literary  distinction.  Soon  after  the  appearance  of  his 
poems,  we  find  him  at  work  on  a  traditional  history  of  his  native 
parish,  and,  at  the  time  when  his  engagement  with  Miss  Fraser  com- 
menced, he  had  composed  enough  to  fill  a  goodly  volume.  To  re- 
move its  blemishes,  heighten  its  beauties,  and  procure  its  publication, 
were  for  several  years  his  chief  endeavors.  Against  getting  from 
friends  and  the  public,  orders  in  advance  of  publication,  the  British 
mode  of  publishing  by  subscription,  he  had  objections  which  were, 


408  HUGH     MILLER. 

for  a  long  time,  invincible.  The  stubborn  independence  of  his  na- 
ture, the  profound  contempt  with  which  he  looked  upon  those  men- 
dicant friars  of  literature,  who,  incompetent  to  succeed  as  mechanics 
and  failing  to  sell  their  manuscripts  to  book-sellers,  hawk  subscription- 
lists  about  country  districts,  and  make  beggary  more  hideous  by  con- 
ceit and  affectation,  and  the  dainty  exclusiveness  of  his  appetite  for 
fame,  loathing  the  very  idea  of  a  reputation  he  did  not  owe  to  his 
unaided  efforts,  all  combined  to  dissuade  him  from  this  mode  of 
publication. 

Ultimately  he  gave  way  on  the  point,  influenced  by  satisfactory 
reasons  of  which  we  shall  hear;  but  the  difficulty  was  evidently  un- 
resolved at  the  time  when  Miss  Fraser  addressed  to  him  the  following 
note.  Its  precise  date  has  not  been  preserved,  but  I  take  it  to  have 
been  written  in  1833.  "You  are  in  difficulty  about  the  printing  of 
your  book,  and  I  might  render  you  some  assistance.  Can  I  help,  at 
least,  satisfying  myself  whether  or  not  it  be  in  my  power?  I  have  a 
little  hoard  of  money  (about  forty  pounds),  which  I  may  put  in 
trinkets  or  in  the  fire,  and  no  one  know  any  thing  of  the  matter. 
Will  you  not  let  me  put  it  to  a  nobler  use?  .  .  .  Dear  Hugh, 
do  not  refuse  me;  if  it  will  pain  you  to  fancy  yourself  indebted  to 
me,  make  it  a  loan.  I  shall  indeed  receive  my  own  with  usury  when 
it  shall  have  been  of  service  to  you."  To  which  the  reply  was  de- 
cisive, and,  I  have  no  doubt,  prompt.  "Not  all  that  industry  ever 
accumulated  could  impart  to  me  so  exquisite  a  feeling  as  your  kind 
and  generous  offer.  My  heart  still  throbs  when  I  think  of  it,  and 
yet,  during  the  greater  part  of  last  night — for  I  have  not  slept  for 
two  hours  together — I  could  think  of  nothing  else.  Could  I  avail 
myself  of  it,  however,  I  would  but  ill  deserve  the  affection  which 

has  prompted  it God  bless  and  reward  you ;  every  new 

trait  I  discover  in  your  character,  while  it  draws  me  closer  to  you, 
shows  me  how  ill  I  deserve  you." 

Miss  Fraser,  with  a  view  of  assisting  her  mother  and  finding  a  chan- 
nel for  her  own  energies,  taught  a  class  of  young  ladies.  In  the  eyes 
of  these,  Hugh  Miller,  whose  relation  with  their  mistress  they  knew, 
was  naturally  a  person  of  importance,  and  when  they  had  any  thing 
to  coax  out  of  her  they  thought  it  good  policy  to  apply  to  him. 
Little  children,  sweet-tempered  women,  light-hearted,  laughing  girls — 
all  gentle  and  injpocent  creatures — loved  and  trusted  this  man,  and 
"found  their  comfort  in  his  face."  The  old  Scottish  customs  of 
Halloween,  immortalized  by  Burns,  had  not  yet  become  obsolete  in 
Cromarty,  and  Miss  Fraser's  pupils  were  disposed  to  celebrate  their 
Halloween  in  the  room  usually  devoted  to  study.  Miss  Fraser's  con* 
sent  was  required;  and  one  day,  when  Hugh  was  at  work  in  the 
church-yard,  he  was  "waited  upon  by  a  deputation"  of  the  girls 
with  a  request  to  write  a  petition  for  them.  He  complied. 

"To  Miss  Fraser,  the  humble  petition  of  her  attached  and  grate- 
ful pupils, 


HUSBANDS     AND     HALLOWEEN.  409 

•      "  Sheweth, 

"  That  your  petitioners  had  great-grandmothers  who  were  young, 
unmarried  women  about  the  beginning  of  the  last  century.  Like 
most  young  women  of  our  own  day,  they  were  all  exceedingly  anxious 
to  know  what  sort  of  husbands  they  were  to  have,  or  whether  they 
were  to  have  any  husbands  at  all.  And,  that  they  might  satisfy 
themselves  on  this  important  matter,  they  burnt  nuts  and  ate  apples 
every  Halloween,  and  with  such  singular  success  that  they  all  lived 
to  see  themselves  married — married,  too,  to  men  who  had  the  honor 
of  being  the  great-grandfathers  of  your  humble  petitioners. 

"That  your  petitioners  have,  therefore,  acquired  a  profound  re- 
spect for  the  ancient  and  laudable  practice  of  burning  nuts  and  eating 
apples.  They  are  desirous,  too,  to  have  a  peep  into  the  future,  not 
only  for  the  sake  of  their  grandmothers,  but  also  for  their  own,  being 
not  a  little  solicitous,  as  every  Halloween  for  the  last  five  years  has 
given  them  a  new  set  of  husbands,  to  ascertain  the  exact  number 
which  is  to  fall  to  the  share  of  each. 

"That  your  petitioners  deem  Happiness  a  very  excellent  sort  of 
lady,  and  know  many  wiser  women  than  themselves  who  are  of  the 
same  opinion.  There  is  that  in  her  character  which  makes  people 
regard  even  the  places  in  which  she  has  visited  them  with  feelings 
similar  to  those  which  incited  the  old  Greeks  and  Romans  of  our 
story-books  to  raise  temples  and  altars  on  the  hill-tops  on  which  their 
gods  had  alighted.  Now  it  so  happens  that  your  petitioners  have 
sent  her  a  card  of  invitation  for  next  Halloween,  to  share  with  them 
in  their  nuts  and  apples,  and  she  is  to  be  with  them  without  fail. 
And  they  would  fain  meet  with  her  on  this  occasion  in  that  apart- 
ment in  which  their  dear  mistress  has  done  so  much  to  render  them 
wiser  and  better.  For  so  sincerely  do  they  love  it,  that  they  are 
desirous  of  loving  it  more,  and  this  by  rendering  it  a  scene  of  splen- 
did hopes,  rich  promises,  and  good  fun — by  associating  with  it  recol- 
lections, not  of  long  lessons  or  false  grammar,  but  of  fine  husbands, 
gilt  coaches,  nuts,  gingerbread,  and  apples. 

"May  it  therefore  please  you  to  grant  to  your  humble  petitioners 
full  possession,  during  the  coming  night  of  fun  and  prediction,  of 
that  interesting  apartment  in  which  you  have  so  often  imparted  to 
your  petitioners  more  of  good  than  they  have  been  all  fully  able  to 
carry  away.  As  you  have  already  so  liberally  given  to  them  of  the 
kernel,  may  it  now  please  you  to  add  the  shell.  And  your  attached 
and  grateful  petitioners  shall,  in  return,  sacrifice  an  entire  egg  to 
your  happiness  and  prosperity." 

The  petition  was  successful. 

One  thing  is  clear:  Hugh  Miller's  existence  at  this  time  was 
bright  and  cheerful.  At  peace  with  himself,  and,  if  we  except  a 
fierce  Cromarty  radical  or  two,  with  all  the  world ;  exempt  from 
every  care  which  gnaws  the  human  heart;  happy  in  friendship,  happy 
in  love  ;  hope  and  ambition  touching  his  hori/on  with  bright  auroral 
hues,  but  not  inflaming  him  with  any  feverish  heat — he  was  indeed 


410  HUGH     MILLER. 

most  fortunate.  For  events,  there  were  occasional  trips  to  Inver- 
ness, fishing  excursions  to  the  rocks,  exploring  rambles  on  the  shore, 
picnics  to  the  Burn  of  Eathie.  All  the  time  he  was  pursuing  his 
enterprise  of  self-culture  with  the  steady  enthusiasm  of  a  Goethe. 
He  never  wrote  a  letter  or  penned  a  paragraph  for  the  "Inverness 
Courier"  without  striving  to  make  it  a  means  of  improving  himself 
in  composition.  He  grudged  no  toil  in  writing  and  rewriting  his 
Traditions,  resolutely  bent  upon  bringing  them  in  style,  thought,  and 
interest,  to  his  high  standard. 

It  need  not  seriously  qualify  our  estimate  of  his  felicity  to  know 
that  the  business  of  getting  his  volume  into  print  proved  for  him,  as 
it  has  proved  for  so  many  authors,  a  business  of  difficulty.  Sir 
Thomas  Dick  Lauder — known  to  literature  by  his  novel,  "The  Wolf 
of  Badenoch,"  and  to  science  by  his  account  of  the  great  Moray- 
shire  floods  and  dissertation  on  the  parallel  roads  of  Glen  Roy — had 
formed  a  high  opinion  of  the  Cromarty  poet's  capacity,  and  exerted 
himself  to  procure  the  publication  of  his  book.  Sir  Thomas  sub- 
mitted the  manuscript  to  an  Edinburgh  critic,  an  expert,  it  appears, 
in  the  tasting  department  of  the  literary  guild,  whom  he  describes  as 
"one  of  the  first  literary  judges  of  the  day."  The  response  was 
more  flattering  than  satisfactory.  "I  do  not,"  wrote  this  minister 
of  fate,  "pretend  to  have  read  the  whole  with  much  care;  but  I 
have  read  quite  enough  to  impress  me  with  a  decided  opinion  of  his 
[Miller's]  very  extraordinary  powers  as  a  prose  writer."  There  is, 
however,  an  objection  to  the  history,  to  wit,  "its  great  lengthiness;  " 
and  though  the  great  man  repeats  his  conviction  that  Mr.  Miller  is 
"a  very  extraordinary  person,"  he  does  not  say  that  he  will  recom- 
mend any  of  the  purveyors  of  literary  viands  whom  he  professionally 
advises  to  place  it  on  their  bill  of  fare.  Messrs.  Oliver  and  Boyd, 
and  Mr.  Andrew  Shortrede,  to  whom  respectively  the  volume  is 
offered,  are  almost  equally  complimentary  and  equally  tantalizing. 
Mr.  Miller's  manner  of  treating  his  subject  "does  him  great  credit." 
It  is  difficult  to  say  what  will  succeed,  but  "as  easy  as  ever  to  say 
what  ought  to  succeed,  and  under  this  class  no  one  can  hesitate  to 
rank  the  Traditional  History  of  Cromarty."  But  "the  work  would 
require  considerable  pruning  to  suit  the  public  taste,"  and,  on  the 
whole,  "we  regret  that  we  can  not  avail  ourselves  of  your  kind  offer." 
Mr.  Shortrede  would  "risk  the  printing,"  if  any  one  would  "venture 
the  other  expenses;"  but  farther  than  this  not  even  Mr.  Shortrede, 
though  he  evidently  hankers  after  the  thing,  will  go.  He  proposes  to 
forward  the  MS.  to  his  London  correspondent,  "to  ascertain  his 
opinion,"  before  returning  it.  Sir  Thomas,  who  felt  that  he  "had 
no  chance  with  Black,  Cadell,"  or  other  publishers,  apprised  Miller 
of  his  want  of  success,  trying  to  put  the  discouraging  tale  as  tenderly 
as  possible.  "The  difficulty,"  he  said,  "of  getting  out  a  literary 
work  at  present  is  immense.  I  have  never  been  able  to  get  my  first 
volume  of  Legends  launched,  and  I  now  begin  to  despair  of  doing 


LETTER     TO     SIR     THOMAS     LAUDER.  411 

so."  In  short,  our  aspiring  Ixion  can  not  have  the  real  Juno,  but 
here  is  a  cloud,  as  like  her  in  form  and  color  as  a  cloud  can  possibly 
be,  and  he  is  most  civilly  invited  to  derive  what  satisfaction  he  can 
from  embracing  it. 

Sir  Thomas's  note  is  dated  i4th  October,  1833;  Miller  replies  on 
the  1 8th  of  the  same  month.  He  is  disposed  to  make  as  much  of 
the  cloud  as  is  feasible,  but  sees  well  that  it  is  a  cloud  after  all. 

"HONORED  SIR: — I  little  thought,  when  writing  you  last  spring, 
of  the  world  of  trouble  to  which  my  request  and  your  own  goodness 
were  to  subject  you ;  had  I  but  dreamed  of  it  I  would  not  now, 
perhaps,  be  possessed  of  your  truly  valuable  opinion  of  my  MS., — 
an  opinion  which  has  given  me  more  pleasure  than  I  dare  venture 
fully  to  express.  .1  set  myself  down  in  my  obscure  solitudes  to  seek 
amusement  in  making  rude  pictures  of  my  homely  ancestors,  and  the 
scenes  of  humble  life  by  which  I  am  surrounded,  and  find  that  my 
careless  sketches  have  elicited  the  praise  of  a  master. 

"In  a  work  composed  as  mine  has  been,  and  on  such  a  subject,  by 
a  person,  too,  so  acquainted  with  the  taste  of  the  public  and  the 
present  aspect  of  the  literary  world,  what  wonder  that  there  should 
be  a  good  deal  which  would  be  perhaps  better  away  ?  The  circum- 
stances which  have  barred  upon  me  those  magazines  of  thought  which 
constitute  the  learning  of  the  age  have  prevented  me  from  acquiring 
its  manners,  or  becoming  familiar  with  its  tastes.  And  yet,  as  it  was 
probably  these  very  circumstances  which  led  me  to  think  on  most 
subjects  for  myself,  I  must  just  bear  with  the  misfortune  of  being  un- 
couth and  tedious  in  some  of  my  pages  for  the  sake  of  being  a  little 
original  in  the  rest.  .  .  .  Some  of  my  dissertations,  too,  are,  I 
suspect,  sad,  leaden  things,  though  they  amused  me  not  a  little  in  the 
casting;  and  some  of  my  minor  traditions,  though  recommended  to 
me  by  my  townsfolks,  are,  I  am  aware,  like  reptiles  in  a  bottle  of 
spirits,  hardly  worth  the  liquid  which  preserves  them.  .  .  .  Some 
of  my  acquaintance  here,  who  seem  much  more  anxious  to  see  my 
history  in  print  than  I  am  myself,  are  urging  me  to  publish  by  sub- 
scription; and  this  they  assure  me  I  could  accomplish  through  the 
medium  of  my  friends  without  the  meanness  of  personal  solicitation, 
or  indeed  without  meanness  of  any  kind ;  but  I  ,im  still  averse 
to  the  method,  and  at  any  rate  will  not  determine  with  regard  to 
it  until  my  MS.  has  been  submitted  to  Mr.  Shortrede's  corre- 
spondent. Even  should  his  opinion  be  an  unfavorable  one,  and 
the  dernier  scheme  prove  unfavorable  too,  still  my  fate  as  a  writer 
shall  not,  I  trust,  be  decided  by  that  of  my  Traditions.  The  same 
cast  of  mind  which  has  enabled  me  to  overcome  not  a  few  of  the 
obstacles  which  my  place  in  society  and  an  imperfect  education  have 
conspired  to  cast  in  my  way,  and  this,  too,  at  a  time  when  the  ap- 
proval of  such  men  as  the  gentleman  whom  I  have  now  the  honor 
of  addressing  was  a  meed  beyond  the  reach  of  even  my  fondest  an- 


412  HUGH    MILLER. 

ticipations,  shall,  I  tnist,  enable  me  to  persist  in  improving  to  the 
utmost  the  powers  which  I  naturally  possess.  And  should  I  fail  at 
last,  it  will  assuredly  be  less  my  fault  than  my  misfortune. 

"I  am  wholly  unable  to  express  the  sense  I  entertain  of  your 
goodness,  but  believe,  honored  sir,  that  I  can  feel  and  appreciate  it. 
My  days  are  passing  quietly  and  not  unhappily  among  friends  to 
whom  I  am  sincerely  attached,  and  by  whom  I  know  myself  to  be 
regarded  with  a  similar  feeling ;  and  though  that  depression  which 
affects  the  trade  of  the  whole  country  bears  so  low  that  it  has  reached 
even  me,  I  can  live  on  the  little  which  I  earn,  and  am  content.  Still, 
however,  I  indulge  in  hopes  and  expectations  which  I  would  ill  like 
to  forego — hopes,  perhaps  of  being  somewhat  less  obscure,  and  some- 
what abler  to  assist  such  of  my  relatives  as  are  poorer  than  even 
myself;  but  the  future  belongs  to  God.  Winter,  my  season  of  leisure, 
is  fast  approaching,  and  should  I  live  to  see  its  close,  I  shall  probably 
find  myself  ten  or  twelve  chapters  deep  in  the  second  volume  of  my 
Traditions,  manger  the  untoward  destinies  of  the  first." 

The  reference  to  Mr.  Shortrede's  London  correspondent  was  un- 
availing. Nothing  remained  but  to  fall  back  upon  the  scheme  of  pub- 
lication by  subscription.  "I  stated,"  he  writes  to  Sir  Thomas  Dick 
Lander,  in  June,  1834,  "when  I  had  last  the  honor  of  addressing  you, 
that  some  of  my  townspeople  and  acquaintance  seemed  to  be  more 
anxious  to  see  my  history  in  print  than  I  was  myself,  and  that  they 
were  urging  me  to  publish  it  by  subscription.  It  is  not  difficult  to  be 
persuaded  to  what  one  half-inclines  ;  my  chief  objection  to  the  scheme 
arose  out  of  a  dread  of  subjecting  myself  to  a  charge  of  meanness  by 
teasing  the  public  into  an  unfair  bargain — giving  it  a  bad  book,  and 
pocketing  money  not  counterfeit  in  return.  But  I  am  assured  that 
the  book  is  not  bad,  and  that  there  would  therefore  be  nothing  mean 
or  unfair  in  the  transaction  ;  and  the  partiality  for  one's  own  per- 
formances, so  natural  to  the  poor  author,  has  rendered  the  argument 
a  convincing  one.  I  publish,  therefore,  by  subscription,  so  soon  as 
three  hundred  subscribers  at  eight  shillings  can  be  procured.  Pecu- 
niary advantage  forms  no  part  of  my  scheme ;  and,  though  not  very 
sanguine,  I  trust  I  shall  succeed.  ...  If  ever  my  Traditions  get 
abroad,  I  find  they  will  be  all  the  better  for  having  stayed  so  long  at 
home.  Since  sending  you  my  MS.  I  have  thought  of  alterations 
which  will  materially  improve  some  of  the  chapters." 

The  subscription  scheme  was  attended  with  complete  success. 
Miller's  townsmen  and  friends  exerted  themselves  strenuously  in  his 
behalf,  and  in  due  time  his  book  saw  the  light.  But  we  must  not 
anticipate. 

His  correspondence,  while  these  negotiations  on  the  subject  of  his 
volume  were  in  progress,  had  been  copious,  and  some  portion  of  it 
must  be  laid  before  the  reader.  No  further  introduction  is  required  to 
the  following  selection  from  his  letters  of  the  period,  addressed  to  Miss 
Fraser.  Whenever  Miller  left  Cromarty,  whether  for  Inverness  or 


RELIGIOUS.   NONSENSE     THE     WORST.  413 

elsewhere,  he  commenced  wrking  to  Miss  Fraser,  and  seems  to  have 
carried  a  pen  and  ink-horn  al/ong  with  him,  so  that  he  might  put  his 
impressions  into  black  and  white  for  conveyance  to  his  mistress  at 
«very  resting-place  on  the  way. 

"  INVERNESS,  10  o'clock  at  night. 

"  Your  criticisms,  my  Lydia,  came  rather  late;  but  when  I  receive 
my  proof-sheets,  I  shall  bring  them  to  you  that  we  may  talk  over  them. 
You  are  a  skillful  grammarian,  but  in  some  points  we  shall  differ — you 
know  we  can  differ,  and  yet  be  very  excellent  friends.  I  might  try 
long  enough  ere  I  could  find  a  mistress  so  fitted  to  be  useful  to  me 
— so  little  of  a  blue-stocking,  and  yet  so  knowing  in  composition.  I 
am  glad  you  are  better,  and  that  you  slept  so  well  last  night,  even 
though  your  slumber  abridged  your  letter.  I  saw  you  to-day  as  I 
passed  your  mother's.  You  were  standing  in  the  door  with  a  lady, 
and  looked,  I  thought,  very  pale.  O  my  own  Lydia,  be  careful  of 
yourself !  Take  little  thought  and  much  exercise.  Read  for  amuse- 
ment only.  Set  yourself  to  make  a  collection  of  shells,  or  butterflies, 
or  plants.  Do  any  thing  that  will  have  interest  enough  to  amuse  you 
without  requiring  so  much  attention  as  to  fatigue.  I  was  sadly  an- 
noyed in  the  steamboat  to-night  by  a  sort  of  preaching  man — one 

M ,  a   Baptist.      He  has  little   sense   and  no  manners,  and  his 

religion  seems  to  consist  in  finding  fault.  Of  all  nonsense,  my  Lydia, 
religious  nonsense  is  the  worst ;  of  all  uncharitableness,  that  of 
the  sectary  is  the  bitterest.  We  too  often  speak  of  intolerance  as  pe- 
culiar to  classes  who  chance  to  have  the  power  of  exercising  it, — as 
inseparably  connected  with  church  establishments  and  a  beneficed 
clergy;  but  it  is  not  with  circumstances  or  situations  that  it  is  con- 
nected ;  it  is  with  inferior  natures — it  is  with  bad  men.  The  proud, 
heart-swollen  Churchman,  who  condemns  heretics  to  the  flames  of 
this  world,  and  the  rancorous  heresiarch,  his  opponent,  who  can  only 
IJthreaten  them  with  the  flames  of  the  next,  possess  it  in  an  equal 
degree.  Nay,  it  may  rage  in  the  breast  of  the  Dissenter,  and  find 
no  place  in  that  of  the  Churchman.  I  saw  as  much  of  it  in  M — 
to-night  (and  yet  no  man  could  denounce  it  more  earnestly)  as  might 
serve  a  Grand  Inquisitor.  I  had  no  dispute  with  him,  as  I  saw  it 
would  be  an  easier  task  to  find  him  argument  than  comprehension; 
besides,  I  wished  to  see  the  fellow,  horns  and  all ;  and  had  I  touched 
him,  he  might  have  drawn  in  the  latter.  Good-night,  my  Lydia; 
these  are  commonplace  remarks,  but  they  have  an  important  bearing 
on  the  present  time.  A  persecuting,  intolerant  spirit  directed  against 
our  national  Church  animates  the  great  body  of  our  Dissenters,  and 
there  can  not  be  a  fairer  specimen  of  the  more  active  of  the  class 

than  M .     Good-night:  fine  thing  to  be  able  to  write  to  one's 

friends." 


414  HUGH     MILLER. 

INVERNESS,  Thursday  Morning. 

"I  have  been  walking  about  the  streets  for  an  hour,  looking  at 
people's  heads  and  faces,  and  at  the  book-sellers'  windows.  I  wish  I 
knew  the  house  you  were  born  in  ;  I  would  pay  my  respects  to  it 
with  a  great  deal  more  devotional  sincerity  than  some  pilgrims  feel 
when  kneeling  before  the  Virgin's  house  at  Loretto.  I  have  been 
walking  in  the  suburbs;  it  is  still  too  early  to  call  on  any  of  my  ac- 
quaintance. You  little  know,  my  lassie,  how  covetous  I  have  become. 
I  have  hardly  in  the  course  of  my  walk  seen  a  snug  little  house  with 
woodbine  on  the  walls,  and  a  garden  in  front,  without  half  ejaculating, 
'Here  with  my  Lydia,  and  with  a  very  little  of  that  wealth  which 
thousands  know  not  how  to  employ,  I  could  be  happy.'  Well, 
though  not  born  to  riches,  I  have  been  born  to  what  riches  can  not 
purchase, — to  the  possession  of  an  expansive  heart  that  can  be  sin- 
cerely attached,  and  happy  in  its  attachment,  and  to  the  love,  the 
pure,  disinterested,  unselfish  love  of  a  talented  and  lovely  woman." 

"GRAY  CAIRN,  half- past  3  o'clock. 

"Here,  my  own  Lydia,  have  I  sitten  down  to  write  you  after  a 
rather  smart  walk  of  about  eleven  miles ;  and  my  first  thought  is  of 
you.  Have  you  ever  visited  the  gray  cairn,  or  surveyed  the  bleak 
barren  moor  that  surrounds  it  ?  It  towers  high  and  shapeless  around 
me,  gray  with  the  moss  and  lichens  of  forgotten  ages, — a  mound  strid- 
ing across  the  stream  of  centuries,  to  connect  the  past  with  the  present, 
— a  voucher  to  attest  the  truth  of  events  long  forgotten, — a  memorial 
carved  over  by  the  fingers  of  fancy  with  a  wild,  imaginative  poetry. 
How  very  poetical  savage  life  appears  when  viewed  through  the  dim 
vista  of  time !  The  savages  of  the  present  day  we  regard  as  a  squalid, 
lazy,  cruel  race  of  animals, — disgusting  mixtures  of  the  wolf,  the  fox, 
and  the  hog,  who  live,  and  love,  and  fight,  not  with  the  wisdom, 
gallantry,  courage  of  men,  but  with  the  craft,  the  brutality,  the  feroc^ 
ity  of  wild  beasts.  Not  such  the  sentiment  when  we  look  through 
the  clouded  avenue  of  the  past  or^  the  deeds  and  habits  of  our  painted 
ancestors.  The  poetical  haze  of  the  atmosphere  magnifies  the  size  of 
the  figures,  smooths  down  their  various  hardnesses  of  outlines,  and 
softens  and  improves  their  colors.  On  the  wild  moor  before  me  have 
some  of  them  fought  and  died  in  some  nameless  but  hard-contested 
and  bloody  conflict, — nameless  now,  though  long  celebrated  among 
their  descendants,  and  often  sung  at  their  rude  hunting-feasts  and 
war  banquets.  See  how  we  are  surrounded  by  vestiges  of  the  fray ! 
Observe  yonder  rectangular,  altar-like  tumulus, — the  scene,  it  is  pro- 
bable, of  human  sacrifice ;  mark  how  thickly  those  grave-like  mounds 
are  scattered  over  the  moor,  and  how  regularly  they  run  in  lines. 
And  then  turn  to  the  cairn  behind, — the  monument  of  some  fallen 
chief.  Give  yourself  up  for  a  moment,  my  Lydia,  to  the  sway  of 
imagination.  The  moor  is  busy  with  life,  the  air  rent  with  clamor. 


THE     PROGRESS    OF     HIS     MIND.  415 

Do  you  not  see  waving  arms  and  threatening  faces,  the  glittering 
of  spears,  the  flashing  of  swords,  eyes  flaring,  wounds  streaming, 
warriors  falling?  See,  the  combatants  are  now  wedged  into  dense 
masses,  now  broken  into  detached  bands;  now  they  press  onward, 
now  they  recede ;  now  they  open  their  ranks,  now  they  close  in  a 
death-grapple.  There  are  the  yells  of  pain,  the  roarings  of  rage, 
and  the  shouts  of  exultation.  Passion  is  busy,  and  so  is  death.  But 
the  figures  recede  and  the  sounds  die  away,  till  we  see  only  a  wide, 
solitary  moor,  with  its  mounds  and  its  tumuli,  and  hearing  only  the 
wind  rustling  through  the  heath." 

SCHOOL- HOUSE  OF  NIGG,  Monday  Evening. 

"Here  am  I  set  in  Mr.  Swanson's  sleeping-room  beside  a  not  bad 
collection  of  books.  I  find  I  am  not  nearly  so  great  a  literary  glut- 
ton now  as  I  was  fifteen  years  ago;  there  was  a  keenness  in  my  appetite 
at  that  time  which  I  have  hardly  ever  seen  equaled.  The  very 
heaven  of  my  imagination  was  an  immense  library ;  and  my  fondest 
desires  asked  nothing  more  from  the  future  than  much  time  and  many 
books.  Have  you  marked  the  progress  of  your  mind,  from  the  days 
in  which  you  dressed  your  doll  to  the  days  in  which  you  are  ad- 
dressed by  your  lover?  I  remember  that  from  my  fourth  to  my 
sixth  year  I  derived  much  pleasure  from  oral  narrative,  and  that  my 
imagination,  even  at  this  early  period,  had  acquired  strength  enough 
to  present  me  with  vividly  colored  pictures  of  all  the  scenes  described 
to  me,  and  of  all  the  incidents  related.  My  mind  then  opened  to 
the  world  of  books.  I  began  to  understand  the  stories  of  the  Bible, 
and  to  steal  into  some  quiet  corner,  that  I  might  peruse  tales  and 
novels  unmolested  by  my  companions.  In  my  twelfth  year  I  could 
relish  a  volume  of  the  'Spectator,'  and  some  of  the  better  essays  of 
Johnson  ;  in  my  fifteenth  I  was  delighted  with  the  writings  of  the 
poets.  About  a  year  after,  I  found  that  'twas  better  to  be  solitary 
than  in  company ;  my  mind  had  acquired  strength  enough,  as  nurses 
'say  of  their  children,  to  stand  alone;  and  a  first  consequence  of  the 
improvement  was,  that  I  exchanged  my  many  companions  for  a  few 
friends.  I  became  a  thorough  admirer  of  nature  for  its  own  sake; 
before,  I  had  only  affected  to  love  it  from  finding  so  much  written  in 
its  praise.  I  was  first  delighted  by  the  mild,  the  calm,  the  beautiful ; 
next,  by  the  wild,  the  terrible,  the  sublime.  Years  passed  on,  and 
man  became  my  study.  I  delighted  in  tracing  the  progress  of  the 
species,  from  the  extreme  of  barbarism  to  that  of  refinement,  and  in 
marking  the  various  shades  of  intellectual  character.  Studies  of  a  more 
abstract  class  succeeded,  and  I  became  a  metaphysician.  I  strove  to 
penetrate  into  the  first  causes  and  to  anticipate  the  remoter  consequences 
of  things;  and  reasoned  on  subjects  such  as  those  which  employed  the 
fiends  in  Milton  when  they  '  found  no  end  in  wandering  mazes  lost ;' 
but  I  soon  perceived  that  the  over-subtle  thinker  reaps  only  a  harvest 
of  doubt,  and  that,  when  truth  is  our  object,  it  is  quite  as  possible  to 
miss  the  mark  by  overshooting  as  by  falling  short.  In  the  progress 


4*6  HUGH     MILLER. 

related,  and  I  can  not  trace  it  further,  habits  have  been  successively 
formed  and  relinquished,  and  appetites  acquired  and  satiated.  But, 
though  many  of  these  have  long  since  ceased,  much  of  that  which 
they  accumulated  for  me  still  remains, — wrought  up  in  some  degree 
into  one  entire  mass,  but  in  some  degree  also  bearing  in  their  separate 
portions  the  color  and  stamp  of  the  period  at  which  they  were  ac- 
quired. I  find,  too,  that  as  in  the  progress  of  my  mind  (to  use  your 
own  happy  language)  '  what  were  at  one  time  the  subjects  of  thought 
and  reason  to  me  have  become  first  principles,'  so  habits  and  modes 
of  thinking  which  have  been  formed  under  the  influence  of  our  second 
nature — custom — have  become  to  me  what  seem  primary  tendencies  of 
the  mind  ;  and  that  if  there  be  much  of  originality  in  my  thoughts? 
I,  perhaps,  owe  it  in  nearly  as  great  a  degree  to  the  peculiarity  of  my 
education  as  to  any  innate  vigor  of  faculty.  But  you  will  deem  me 
dull  and  an  egotist." 

"ROADSIDE,  Tuesday,  n  o'clock. 

"I  am  on  my  way  to  Chapel-Hill;  the  day  is  so  oppressively  hot 
that  the  grass  and  corn*  look  as  if  half  boiled,  and  there  is  a  dense 
cloud  of  flies  buzzing  about  my  head.  I  saw,  two  minutes  since,  a 
large  weasel  quitting  its  hole  to  drink.  My  eyes  are  so  dazzled  by  the 
glare  of  the  sun  on  the  white  of  your  letter,  which  I  have  been  again 
perusing,  that  I  hardly  see  the  characters  I  am  forming.  You  have 
embodied  very  happily,  in  your  description,  the  yawning  tedium  of 
some  of  our  Cromarty  parties,  and  caught  to  the  life  the  tone  of  the 
sort  of  flippancy  which  has  to  pass  in  them  for  wit.  'Tis  a  sad  waste 
of  time,  my  own  Lydia,  to  be  engaged  in  such  ;  how  much  better 
could  we  not  contrive  to  spend  an  evening  with  only  ourselves  for 
our  guests!  But  I  suppose  parties  every- where  are  almost  equally  pro- 
fitless. They  were  profitless  even  in  Athens,  in  its  best  days.  'Why,' 
says  Socrates,  '  do  the  people  call  in  musicians  when  they  entertain 
their  friends?  Is  it  not  because  they  have  not  learned  to  converse  ! '  " 

"MANSE  OF  KILMUIR,  half-past  7  o'clock. 
"  I  was  on  the  way  to  the  ferry  this  evening,  but  John  impressed 

me  to  accompany  him  on  a  visit  to  Mr.    M .      We  crossed  the 

sands  of  Nigg  together, — a  long,  dreary  flat,  roughened  by  the  cork- 
like  hillocks  of  the  sand-worm,  and  speckled  with  shells.  Barren 
and  dreary  as  it  may  seem,  I  know  no  part  of  the  country  busier 
with  life.  Myriads  of  sea-cockles  have  grown  up  and  perished  in  it, 
age  after  age,  till  the  shells  have  so  accumulated  that  in  some  places 
they  form  beds  many  feet  in  thickness ;  and,  though  thousands  of 
cart-loads  have  of  late  years  been  carried  away  for  lime,  the  supply 
seems  as  great  as  at  first.  As  we  passed  through,  immense  shoals  of 
shrimps  and  young  flounders  were  striking  against  our  naked  feet, — 
reminding  me,  from  their  numbers  and  their  extreme  minuteness,  of 

»  American  readers  will  bear  in  mind  that  "  Corn  "  in  Britain  means  any  kind 
of  grain. 


FOOT-PRINTS     OF     CREATION.  417 

the  cloud  of  flies  that  buzzed  round  my  head  at  noon.  I  saw  the 
sand-worms  lie  so  thickly  that  their  little  pyramids  fretted  the  entire 
surface  nearly  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  reminding  one  of  the 
ripple  raised  by  a  light  breeze  on  a  sheet  of  water,  while  the  remote 
horizon  was  darkened  by  endless  beds  of  muscles  and  periwinkles. 
I  am  certain  there  is  more  of  animal  life  in  a  few  acres  of  this  waste 
than  is  comprised  in  the  human  population  of  the  entire  world.  In 
some  comparatively  recent  era — recent,  at  least,  in  the  chronology  of 
the  geologist — the  sea  seems  to  have  stood  several  fathoms  higher  on 
our  coasts  than  it  does  at  present.  Large  beds  of  shells  have  been 
found  in  the  interior  of  the  valley,  the  opening  of  which  is  occupied 
by  the  sands  of  Nigg,  more  than  two  miles  beyond  the  extreme  rise 
of  the  tide ;  and  John  tells  me  that,  not  many  years  since,  the  bones 
of  a  fish  of  the  whale  species  were  found  in  the  parish  of  Fearn,  at 
a  still  higher  level. 

"I  was  shown,  on  quitting  the  sands,  two  fine  chalybeate  springs, 
which  gush  out  of  a  rock  of  veined  sandstone  among  the  woods  of 
Tarbat-house.  They  are  thickly  surrounded  by  pine  and  willow,  in 
a  solitary  but  not  unpleasing  recess,  and  their  waters,  after  leaping 
to  the  base  of  the  rock,  with  a  half-gurgling,  half-tinkling  sound, 
unite  in  a  small  runnel,  and  form  a  little  melancholy  lochan,  matted 
over  with  weeds,  and  edged  with  flags  and  rushes.  The  waters  of 
both  are  strongly  though  not  equally  acidulous,  and  the  course  both 
along  the  rock  and  through  the  runnel  is  marked  by  a  steep  belt  of 
ferruginous  matter,  which  might  be  converted  into  a  pigment,  resem- 
bling burnt-sienna." 

In  the  letter  to  his  "Dear  Lydia,"  just  quoted,  he  was  dilating 
upon  geological  specimens,  and  here  we  transcribe  from  a  letter  to 
Mtes  Dunbar,  dated  "  Cromarty,  Sept.  25,  1834." 

"  For  the  last  fortnight  some  of  my  very  few  leisure  hours  have 
been  employed  in  collecting  geological  specimens  for  my  kind  friend, 
Mr.  George  Anderson — one  of  the  most  thorough-bred  geologists  in 
the  north  of  Scotland.  By  the  way,  I  see  from  the  newspapers  that 
he  has  been  highly  complimented  for  his  labors  in  this  department, 
at  the  great  scientific  meeting  at  Edinburgh.  Some  of  the  specimens 
I  have  procured  are  exceedingly  curious;  they  contain  the  petrified 
remains  of  animals  that  now  no  longer  exist  except  in  a  fossil  state 
— bits  of  charcoal,  pieces  of  wood,  and  nondescript  substances  which 
one  can  hardly  refer  to  either  the  animal  or  vegetable  world.  Of 
the  several  animal  tribes  the  very  curious  shell-fish  termed  the  cornu 
ammonis  abounds  most ;  but,  though  at  one  period  the  most  numer- 
ous of  all  the  testaceous  tribes  of  the  country,  it  is  now  no  longer  to 
be  found  except  as  a  fossil,  deeply  embedded  in  limestone  or  bitu- 
minous shale,  and  buried  under  huge  hills  of  clay  and  gravel.  There 
are  grounds,  indeed,  for  the  belief  that  the  race  of  man,  and  almost 
all  the  tribes  of  animals  with  which  we  are  acquainted,  have  come 
into  being  since  it  ceased  to  exist ;  at  least  no  remains  of  the  living 

27 


418  HUGH     MILLER. 

tribes  have  been  found  in  the  beds  in  which  the  cornu  abounds. 
Like  the  nautilus,  it  was  a  sailing  animal,  and,  though  different  in 
form,  its  structure  seems  to  have  been  nearly  the  same.  We  find  it 
partitioned  in  the  same  way  by  little  cross  walls,  which  divide  the 
cavity  within  into  a  number  of  minute  cells,  by  means  of  which, 
and  by  a  power  it  must  have  possessed  of  altering  its  gravity,  by 
nearly  vacating  or  occupying  these  to  the  full,  it  seems  to  have  moved 
upwards  or  downwards  at  pleasure.  The  inner  part  of  the  shell  seems, 
from  the  more  perfect  impressions  of  it  which  I  have  met  with,  to 
have  been  of  a  pearly  luster ;  the  outer  is  ridged  and  furrowed  with 
much  regularity,  and  there  is  at  least  as  much  elegance  in  its  general 
contour  as  in  that  of  the  Ionic  volute,  which  it  nearly  resembles. 
But  why  so  much  beauty,  when  there  was  no  eye  of.  man  to  see  and 
admire?  Does  it  not  seem  strange  that  the  bays  of  our  coasts  should 
have  been  speckled  by  fleets  of  beautiful  little  animals,  with  their 
tiny  sails  spread  to  the  wind  and  their  pearly  colors  glancing  to  the 
sun,  when  there  was  no  intelligent  eye  to  look  abroad  and  delight  in 
their  loveliness?  Of  all  the  sciences  there  is  none  which  furnishes  so 
many  paradoxical  facts  and  appearances  as  geology.  .  .  ." 

Are  not  these  foreshadowings  of  his  future  fitness  for  writing  of  the 
"Old  Red  Sandstone,"  for  tracing  the-"  Foot-prints  of  the  Creator," 
and  giving  to  the  world  the  "Testimony  of  the  Rocks?" 

Mrs.  Grant,  of  Laggan,  suggested  about  this  time  to  her  friend, 
Miss  Dunbar,  with  a  view  to  Miller's  advancement  in  life,  that  he 
might  do  the  "blocking  work"  for  a  young  sculptor  "likely  to  rise  to 
eminence."  Mrs.  Grant  referred  to  "Allan  Cunningham's  success 
in  doing  the  blocking  work  for  Chantrey,"  by  way  of  illustrating 
the  promotion  intended  for  Miller.  On  this  Miss  Dunbar  wrote  to 
Hugh:  "I  could  not  well  take  it  on  me  to  reply  to  what  she  sug- 
gests without  a  reference  to  yourself,  though  I  dare  say  I  anticipate 
your  answer,  and  so  I  write.  Pardon  the  terms  she  uses'as  applicable 
to  you,  and  believe  me,  that  neither  in  speaking  nor  writing  of  you 
have  I  expressed  myself  in  a  way  to  sanction  them.  I  had  honesty 
and  delicacy  enough  not  to  assume  the  airs  of  a  lady-patroness ;  I 
ever  spoke  of  you  as  my  friend,  and  as  proud  that  you  were  such." 
In  the  same  letter  Miss  Dunbar  mentioned  that  Baron  Hume,  nephew 
to  the  historian,  pronounced  by  Kemble  "positively  the  first  "  critic 
of  the  day,  had  seen  the  prospectus  of  Miller's  book.  "  He  perused 
it,"  she  adds,  "  with  much  interest  and  no  little  surprise,  and  states, 
as  his  opinion,  that  the  writer  excels  in  that  classical  style  which 
many  well-known  writers  of  the  present  day,  so  far  from  attaining  to, 
do  not  seem  even  to  understand."  Hugh,  in  his  reply,  speaks  of 
Baron  Hume  before  touching  on  Mrs.  Grant's  proposal. 

"  CROMARTY,  October  25,  1834. 

"Never  was  my  little  remnant  of  modesty  in  such  danger  as  it 
has  been  exposed  to  by  the  critical  remark  of  Baron  Hume.  But,  if 


HIS     SCHEME     OF     RELIGION.  419 

at  all  worthy  of  the  compliment  it  conveys,  I  owe  my  merit  chiefly 
to  accident;  to  my  having  kept  company  with  the  older  English 
writers — the  Addisons,  Popes,  and  Robertsons  of  the  last  century — 
at  a  time  when  I  had  no  opportunity  of  becoming  acquainted  with 
the  authors  of  the  present  time.  And  the  tone  of  these  earlier  writers 
I  have,  I  dare  say,  contrived  in  some  measure  to  catch,  just  as  in  my 
spoken  language  I  have  caught  the  tone  of  our  Cromarty  Scotch. 


"  Favor  me,  when  you  write  Mrs.  Grant,  by  tendering  her  my  best 
thanks  for  her  suggestion,  and  the  interest  she  takes  in  my  welfare, 
and  oblige  me  by  stating  that  I  can  not  avail  myself  of  the  former. 
But  why,  my  dear  madam,  apologize  for  the  terms  she  employs  in 
speaking  of  me?  Trust  me,  I  am  not  one  of  those  who  repay  with 
insolence  the  notice  by  which  they  are  honored.  The  much  kind- 
ness you  have  shown  me,  and  the  confidence  you  have  reposed  in 
me,  have  not  yet  made  me  forget  our  respective  places  in  society; 
and,  though  no  one  entertains  a  more  sincere  love  of  independence, 
or  more  carefully  avoids  any  imputation  of  meanness,  it  would  not 
cost  me  a  single  blush  were  the  whole  world  to  know  how  much 
cause  you  have  given  me  to  be  grateful." 

TWO   LETTERS   ON   RELIGION. 

The  two  letters  addressed  to  Mr.  William  Smith,  Forres,  are  with- 
out question  among  the  most  important  Miller  ever  wrote.  They 
form  a  supplement  to  that  portion  of  his  spiritual  history  which  em- 
braced his  period  of  indifference  and  semi-skepticism,  and  contain 
not  only  an  explicit  confession  of  faith,  but  a  statement  of  that  intel- 
lectual basis  on  which  it  was  for  him  a  necessity  that  his  faith  should 
rest.  Reticent  as  he  was  in  all  that  related  to  his  soul's  condition, — 
sensitively  averse  to  the  (fnveiling  to  human  eyes  of  his  spiritual  ex- 
perience,— he  would  probably  never  have  written  such  letters  had 
not  an  occasion  occurred  which  constrained  him  to  overcome  every 
scruple.  A  friend  lay  ill,  perhaps  unto  death;  it  seemed  possible  to 
Hugh  that  he  might  minister  to  his  spirit's  health  and  his  eternal  sal- 
vation; and  he  yielded  to  the  impulse  of  affection  and  the  mandate 
of  duty.  The  scheme  of  religion  which  he  unfolds  in  the  letters  is 
that  of  simple  acceptance  of  Christ  for  salvation,  as  he  is  offered  in 
the  gospel, — acceptance  with  the  heart  as  well  as  the  head,  acceptance 
with  clear  consciousness  that  the  difficulties  of  the  intellect  can  not 
be  wholly  removed.  The  religion  of  Miller  was  to  cling  close  to 
Christ,  to  die  with  Christ,  to  rise  with  Christ,  to  wear  with  him  the 
crown  of  thorns,  and  to  receive  from  him  the  crown  of  glory. 

The  idea  formerly  thrown  out  by  Miller,  that  Christianity  suggests 
objections  so  many  and  so  obvious  that  common  sense  would  not 
have  permitted  its  invention  by  man,  receives  in  these  letters  its 
balance  and  counterpart  in  the  hypothesis  that  the  adaptation  of 


420  HUGH    MILLER. 

Christianity  to  man's  wants  is  so  exquisite,  and  the  evidence  so  strong, 
that  its  obvious  offenses  to  mere  human  reason  tend  to  prove  that  it 
is  divine. 

From  a  biographic  point  of  view,  the  letters  have  a  special  interest, 
as  showing  the  tenacity  with  which  Miller  retained  thoughts  which 
had  once  been  deliberately  accepted  into  his  intellectual  system. 
The  illustration  of  the  working  of  the  atonement  of  Christ,  given 
long  subsequently  in  the  "  Schools  and  School-masters,"  is  but  a  slight 
expansion  of  that  which  he  here  lays  before  his  friend,  and  the  thesis 
maintained,  that  man  can  apprehend  facts  and  results  in  God's  uni- 
verse, whether  physical  or  spiritual,  but  not  the  constructive  princi- 
ples and  processes  by  which  they  are  brought  about,  is  worked  out  in 
a  chapter  on  the  Discoverable  and  the  Revealed  in  the  "Testimony 
of  the  Rocks,"  which  is,  perhaps,  the  most  valuable  that  Hugh  Miller 
ever  penned. 

"CROMARTY,  August  5,  1835. 

"MY  DEAR  WILLIAM: — I  need  not  tell  you  how  famous  Cromarty 
is  for  its  hasty  reports,  or  on  how  slender  a  foundation  the  imagina- 
tion of  the  townsfolks  sometimes  contrives  to  build.  I  must  needs 
tell  you,  however,  for  the  circumstance  forms  my  only  apology  for 
now  writing  you,  that  the  last  story  current  among  us  affected  me 
more  deeply  than  any  of  its  class  ever  did  before.  On  your  late 
severe  attack,  your  brother,  the  doctor,  was  called  hastily  to  Forres, 
and  the  story  went  that  you  were  dead.  I  never  before  knew  how 
much  I  valued  and  esteemed  you;  the  thought,  too,  that  one  with 
whom  I  had  so  often  conversed,  and  with  whose  mind  I  was  so 
thoroughly  acquainted,  had  passed  the  dark  bourne  which  separates 
this  world  from  the  other,  had  something  inexpressibly  solemn  and 
melancholy  in  it.  I  felt  for  the  time  that,  disguise  the  fact  as  we 
may,  the  main  business  of  this  life  consists  in  preparing  for  another, 
and  conscience  was  not  quite  silent  when  I  remembered  that,  though 
you  and  I  had  beaten  together  over  many  an  interesting  topic,  the 
most  interesting  of  all  had  been  omitted.  You  remember  the  fable 
of  the  wise  men  who  were  permitted  to  make  a  three  days'  visit  to 
the  moon  that  they  might  report  to  our  lower  world  regarding  its 
plants  and  animals,  and  who,  on  their  return,  had  to  confess  that 
they  had  squandered  their  time  in  drinking  with  gay  young  men  and 
dancing  with  beautiful  women,  and  had  only  remarked  that  the  trees 
and  sky  of  the  planet,  when  seen  casually  through  a  window,  very 
much  resembled  those  of  our  own.  Alas  for  the  application  of  this 
ingenious  story  ! 

"There  are  few  men  who  do  not,  at  some  time  or  other,  think 
seriously  of  the  future  state,  or  who  have  not  formed  some,  at  least,  ^ 
theoretic  set  of  notions  regarding  the  best  mode  of  preparing  for  it.  ' 
Man  was  born  to  anticipate  a  hereafter ;  he  is  a  religious  animal  by 
the  very  constitution  of  his  nature,  and  the  thousand  forms  of  super- 


CHRISTIANITY    OF    DIVINE     ORIGIN).  421 

stition  which  still  overspread  the  world  and  darken  every  page  of  its 
history  are  just  so  many  proofs  of  this.  It  has  often  struck  me  that 
the  infidel,  when  in  his  assaults  on  revelation  he  draws  largely  from 
this  store  of  delusion,  sadly  mistakes  his  argument;  every  false  religion 
which  has  sprung  out  of  the  nature  of  man  shows  us,  not  surely  that 
there  is  no  true  religion,  but  that  we  stand  in  need  of  a  true  one ; 
every  mythologic  folly  and  absurdity  should  convince  us  that  we  need 
an  infallible  guide.  Regarded  in  this  light,  the  'Shaster'  and  the 
'  Koran '  are  substantial  proofs  of  how  ill  we  could  do  without  the 
Bible;  and  Paganism  and  Mahometism  powerfully  recommend 
Christianity.  You,  my  dear  William,  to  whom  it  has  been  given  to 
possess  an  inquiring  and  reflecting  mind,  must  have  often  thought  of 
the  final  destinies  of  man ;  I  myself  have  observed  in  you  much  of 
that  respect  for  sacred  things  which  is  one  of  the  characteristics  of 
an  ingenuous  nature;  but  there  is,  perhaps,  danger  that  your  very 
ingenuity  and  acuteness  might  have  led  you  into  error. 

"  Christianity  is  emphatically  termed  the  wisdom  of  God,  but  it  is 
not  on  a  first  examination  that  a  reasoning  mind  can  arrive  at  the 
evidence  of  its  being  such ;  on  the  contrary,  some  of  its  main  doc- 
trines seem  opposed  to  the  more  obvious  principles  of  common  sense ; 
and  this  quite  in  the  same  way  that,  before  the  days  of  Newton,  it 
would  have  seemed  contrary  to  these  principles  to  allege  that  the 
whiteness  of  light  was  occasioned  by  a  combination  of  the  most  vivid 
colors,  or  that  the  planets  were  held  in  their  orbits  by  the  law  which 
impelled  a  falling  stone  towards  the  ground.  Now  this  is  exactly 
what  we  might  expect  of  the  true  religion.  A  religion  made  by  ra- 
tional men — many  deists,  you  know,  were  eminently  such,  and  we 
may  instance  theirs — will  be,  like  themselves,  rational  and  easily  un- 
derstood ;  but  this  very  facility  is  a  conclusive  proof  that  it  had  its 
origin  in  the  mind  of  man.  It  is  like  all  his  other  works, — like  the 
clocks  and  watches  and  steam-engines  of  his  construction, — easily 
understood  and  easily  imitated ;  but  it  is  not  thus  with  Christianity, 
nor  is  it  thus  with  the  great  machine  of  the  universe.  Let  us,  my 
dear  William,  take  a  brief  survey  of  some  of  the  main  doctrines  of 
this  religion ;  they  concern  us  so  nearly  that  it  may  be  fatal  to  mis- 
understand them. 

"  The  invariable  reply  of  the  apostles  of  our  Savior  to  that  most 
important  of  all  queries,  '  What  shall  I  do  to  be  saved  ? '  was,  '  Be- 
lieve in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.'  Belief  seems  to  be,  if  I  may  so  speak, 
the  main  condition  of  man's  acceptance  ;  but  belief  in  what,  or  whom  ? 
in  a  person  who  is  at  once  God  and  man,  and  who  thus,  to  the  per- 
fection of  a  Divine  nature,  adds  the  feelings  of  a  human  heart !  Now 
there  is  something  amazing  in  this,  something  which,  for  its  exquisite 
fitness  to  our  moral  and  sentient  constitution,  is  worthy  the  concep- 
tion of  a  God.  Observe,  my  dear  William,  the  false  religions  of  the 
world,  and  you  will  find  that  they  run  into  two  opposite  extremes. 
In  the  artificial  religions  which  have  been  formed  by  the  intellect  of 


422  HUGH     MILLER. 

man,  God  is  represented  as  a  mere  abstraction  of  wisdom  and  power. 
He  is  the  Great  First  Cause  of  the  philosopher,  and  it  is  scarcely  more 
possible  for  the  human  heart  to  love  him  as  such  than  it  is  for  him  to 
love  any  of  the  great  second  causes,  such  as  the  sun  with  its  light  and 
heat,  or  the  law  of  gravitation.  And  hence  the  coldness  and  utter 
inefficacy  of  all  such  religions,  whether  known  under  the  name  of 
philosophical  Deism  or  Socinian  Christianity ;  they  are  totally  unfitted 
to  the  nature  of  man.  The  religions  of  the  other  class  are  rather  the 
offspring  of  passion  than  intellect ;  they  arise  in  those  obscure  and 
remote  ages  when  unenlightened  man  created  his  gods  in  his  own 
image.  What  was  Jupiter  or  his  son  Hercules,  or  what  their  com- 
panions in  the  court  of  Olympus,  the  Dianas,  Venuses,  or  Minervas 
with  which  the  old  poets  have  brought  us  acquainted,  but  human 
creatures  bearing  the  very  mold  and  impression  of  their  worshipers  ? 
And  such  deities  could  be  loved  and  feared  just  in  the  way  one  hu- 
man creature  can  love  or  fear  another ;  the  belief  in  them  powerfully 
influenced  the  conduct,  but  their  worship,  as  it  originated  in  the  dark- 
ened human  heart,  was  a  worship  of  impurity. 

"  Observe  with  what  a  truly  godlike  wisdom  Christianity  is  formed,  to 
avoid  the  opposite  extremes  of  these  two  classes,  and  how  it  yet  em- 
braces more  than  the  philosophy  of  the  one,  and  more  than  the  warmth 
of  the  other ;  the  object  of  our  worship  is  at  once  God,  the  First  Great 
Cause,  and  the  man  Jesus  Christ,  our  brother. 

"  But  not  merely  must  we  believe  in  Christ  as  God,  but  also  as  our 
Savior ;  as  the  restorer  of  our  moral  nature,  and  our  sacrifice  or  atone- 
ment. There  are  wonderful  Janus-like  mysteries  here,  inexplicable  in 
their  one  aspect  as  they  regard  God,  though  simple  and  easy  in  the 
other  as  they  regard  man.  Perhaps  an  illustration  from  the  human 
frame  may  serve  to  explain  my  meaning.  Need  I  remind  you,  who 
are  an  anatomist,  and  acquainted  with  Paley  to  boot,  of  the  admir- 
able adaptation  of  the  human  frame  to  the  various  ends  for  which  it 
was  created,  or  how  easy  it  is  for  a  person  of  even  ordinary  capacity  to 
be  made  to  perceive  this  adaptation?  Almost  any  one  can  see  how 
fairly  and  beautifully  the  machine  works, — but  who,  on  the  other 
hand,  can  conceive  of  the  higher  principles  on  which  it  is  constructed  ? 
Who  can  know  any  thing  of  the  workings  of  the  brain  as  the  organ 
of  thought,  or  of  the  operations  of  the  nerves  as  the  seats  of  feeling ; 
of  how  the  chyle  is  chosen  by  its  thousand  blind  mouths,  and  every 
other  fluid  rejected ;  of  how  one  gland  should  secrete  a  liquor  so  un- 
like that  secreted  by  another, — of,  in  short,  any  of  the  thousand  phe- 
nomena of  our  animal  nature  when  we  trace  them  towards  their  first 
cause  ?  The  working  of  the  machine  is  simple,  its  construction  we 
find  to  be  inexplicably  mysterious.  Now  it  is  thus  with  Christianity. 
No  one  can  understand  how  the  sufferings  of  the  Savior  satisfy  the 
justice  of  God, — that  regards,  if  I  may  so  speak,  the  construction  of 
the  scheme ;  but  every  one  who  examines  may  see  how  wonderfully 
these  vicarious  sufferings  are  suited  to  the  nature  and  the  wants  of 


THE     EXHORTATION.  423 

man, — for  that  regards  its  working.  But  it  is  not  in  the  limits  of 
so  brief  a  composition  as  a  letter  that  such  a  subject  can  be  discussed. 
"  May  I  recommend  to  you,  my  dear  William,  to  lay  hold  on  this  Sav- 
ior as  the  way,  and  the  truth,  and  the  life  ?  He  is  willing  and  able  to 
save  to  the  uttermost  all  who  trust  in  him.  You  suffer  from  pain  and  de- 
jection, he  suffered  from  pain  and  dejection  also,  and  hence  his  wonderful 
fitness  to  be  the  God  and  Savior  of  a  race  born  to  anguish  and  sorrow. 
Not  only  does  he  know  our  weaknesses  as  God,  but  he  sympathizes  in 
them  as  man.  Forgive  me  the  freedom  with  which  I  write  you, — it  is  as  a 
friend, — as  one  foolish  and  careless,  and  often  so  wrapped  up  in  the 
dreams  of  life  as  to  forget  its  real  businesses,  but  also  as  one  convinced 
that  the  Savior  can,  through  his  Spirit,  make  wise  unto  salvation,  and 
that  to  secure  an  interest  in  him  is  to  possess  a  righteousness  that  is 
perfect,  and  to  have  every  sin  forgiven  through  an  atonement  that  is 
complete.  May  I  ask,  my  dear  William,  that  when  you  address  your- 
self to  him, — and,  oh,  he  is  willing  to  hear  and  ready  to  help, — you 
will  put  up  one  petition  for  your  affectionate  friend,  Hugh  Miller." 

CROMARTY,  August  27,  1835. 

"  MY  DEAR  WILLIAM  : — I  have  learned  from  your  brother  that  you 
are  still  confined  to  your  room.  Believe  me,  I  sympathize  with  you 
very  sincerely ;  and  it  is  in  the  hope  of  helping  to  enliven  your  soli- 
tude for  at  least  a  few  brief  minutes  that  I  again  avail  myself  of  a 
leisure  hour  in  which  to  write  you.  I  know  from  experience  that 
there  is  no  solitude  like  that  of  a  sick-chamber, — it  wears  away  the 
poor  remnant  of  spirits  that  indisposition  spares  to  us;  but  it  will  not 
render  the  sense  of  this  loneliness  weightier  to  you  to  learn  that  an 
old  friend,  though  also  a  powerless  one,  continues  to  regard  you  with 
sympathy  and  esteem.  It  is  a  better  assurance,  however,  that  He  who 
is  more  thoroughly  your  friend  than  any  one  else,  and  who  can  sym- 
pathize with  you  more  deeply,  is  possessed  of  a  power  that  has  no 
limits. 

"Your  brother  hinted  to  me  that  you  are  not  unwilling  I  should 
recur  to  the  subject  of  my  last.  I  feel,  my  dear  William,  that  I  am 
unworthy  to  approach  a  theme  so  sacred;  I  am  also  too  little  im- 
pressed with  it,  too  little  in  love  with  it ;  but  I  know  of  its  impor- 
tance, and  I  believe  in  its  truth.  In  one  respect,  too,  we  may  be  bet- 
ter fitted  for  conference  with  each  other  on  the  doctrines  of  religion 
than  either  of  us  would  be  with  minds  who  had  never  doubted  of 
them.  I  know  you  are  not  unacquainted  with  infidel  objections, — 
you  are  familiar  with  some  of  the  most  insidious  writings  of  Voltaire ; 
I  am  intimate  with  these  also,  and  with  those  of  many  a  skeptic  be- 
sides. And  so,  as  we  can  approach  our  subject  over  nearly  the  same 
ground,  it  is  surely  not  irrational  to  expect  that  it  may  present  itself 
to  us  in  nearly  the  same  points  of  view. 

"  I  think  I  remarked  to  you  in  my  last  letter,  that  Christianity  is  no 
common-sense  religion ;  were  it  such,  it  would  have  little  in  common 


424  HUGH    MILLER. 

\ 

with  the  other  marvelous  workings  of  Him  who  devised  it,  as  these  are 
shown  in  all  he  has  made,  and  in  his  mode  of  governing  all.  But 
do  not  infer  from  this,  as  some  infidels  do,  tacitly  at  least,  that  to 
the  human  comprehension  the  absurdities  of  false  religions  and  the 
mysteries  of  Christianity  are  placed  on  a  similar  level.  Between 
what  can  not  be  understood  because  it  has  no  meaning,  and  what  can 
not  be  understood  because  it  surpasses  the  grasp  of  our  minds,  there 
not  only  obtains  an  infinite  difference,  but  a  difference  fully  cogni- 
zable by  the  human  intellect.  The  scribblings  of  a  child  and  the  ab- 
struser  calculations  of  a  Newton  or  La  Place  would  not  appear  equally 
unmeaning  to  an  attentive  observer,  however  humble  his  powers  ;  he 
could  not  but  see  now  and  then  little  breaks  of  sense  in  the  mysteries 
of  the  one,  and  wonderful  effects  produced  by  them,  which  would 
most  effectually  distinguish  them  from  the  nothingness  of  the  other. 
And  it  is  thus  with  Christianity.  We  get  occasional  glimpses  of  its 
meaning,  and  see  instances  of  its  power  that  may  well  enable  us  to 
distinguish  between  it  and  the  'Shaster'  and  'Koran.'  Its  adapta- 
tion to  the  nature  of  man  is  truly  exquisite.  There  is  a  pretty  story 
in  Kames's  'Art  of  Thinking,'  introduced  by  the  philosopher  for  a 
very  different  purpose,  which  will,  in  part,  enable  us  to  conceive  of 
this.  Two  men  who  fought  in  the  wars  of  Queen  Anne — the  one  a 
petty  officer,  the  other  a  private  soldier — had  been  friends  and  com- 
rades for  years,  but  quarreling  on  some  unlucky  love  affair,  they  be- 
came bitter  enemies.  The  officer  made  a  natural  though  ungenerous 
use  of  his  authority  in  continually  annoying  and  persecuting  the  other, 
whom  he  almost  fretted  into  madness,  and  who  was  often  heard  to  swear 
that  he  would  die  to  be  avenged  on  him.  Both  were  men  of  known 
bravery,  and  on  an  occasion  of  some  dangerous  service,  both  were 
chosen  to  be  of  the  party  selected  to  attempt  it.  But  the  attempt 
was  unsuccessful,  and  the  officer  was  struck  down  by  a  ball  in  the  re- 
treat. 'Ah,  and  will  you  leave  me  here  to  perish  ? '  he  exclaimed,  as 
his  old  companion  rushed  past  him.  The  appeal  was  irresistible  ;  the 
poor  injured  man  returned,  and,  raising  his  wounded  enemy,  he  bore 
him  off  amid  a  storm  of  shot  and  shell.  And  he  had  just  reached 
what  seemed  to  be  a  place  of  safety,  when  he  was  struck  by  a  chance 
ball  and  fell  dead  under  his  burden.  But  his  fate  seemed  an  envi- 
able one  compared  with  that  of  the  wounded  man.  He  rose,  for- 
getful of  his  wound,  and,  tearing  his  hair,  and  flinging  himself  on  the 
body,  he  burst  out  into  the  most  heart-rending  lamentations.  For 
two  days  he  refused  all  sustenance,  still  calling  on  his  companion, 
and  ever  exclaiming,  '  Hast  thou  died  for  me  who  treated  thee  so 
barbarously !  '  and  he  expired  on  the  third,  the  victim  of  mingled 
grief  and  remorse.  Do  you  not  perceive,  my  dear  William,  that  the 
principle  which  the  story  unfolds  lies  deep  in  our  nature?  Nothing 
so  prostrates  the  pride  of  man  or  so  stings  him  to  the  heart  as  a  re- 
turn of  benefits  for  injuries, — of  great  good  for  great  evil.  In  the 
expressive  language  of  Scripture,  it  is  heaping  live  coals  on  the  head, 


SCHEME    OF    SALVATION     COMPLETE.  425 

and  to  blow  up  these  to  a  tenfold  intensity  that  the  hardest  heart  may 
melt  under  them,  it  is  necessary  that  the  injured  benefactor,  instanced 
in  the  story,  should  die  for  his  enemy.  Need  I  attempt  an  applica- 
tion, or  point  out  to  you  with  what  marvelous,  godlike  wisdom 
Christianity  appeals  to  the  principle  described?  'Peradventure  for  a 
good  man,'  says  the  Apostle,  '  some  would  even  dare  to  die  ;  but  God 
commended  his  love  towards  us,  in  that,  while  we  were  yet  sinners, 
Christ  died  for  us.' 

"I  am  sorry  we  should  have  missed  so  many  opportunities  of  con- 
versing on  this  subject ;  little  can  be  done  for  it  in  the  limits  of  a 
letter;  and  besides,  in  the  course  of  conversation,  doubts  may  be 
stated  and  cleared  which,  though  they  may  weigh  heavily  on  your 
mind,  can  not  be  anticipated  by  mine.  It  must  have  struck  you  as 
something  very  mysterious  in  the  scheme  of  Redemption  that  man, 
instead  of  having  to  trust  to  his  own  virtues  for  reward,  and  his  own 
repentance  for  pardon,  must  look  exclusively  to  the  righteousness 
and  atonement  of  the  Savior.  And  yet  so  important  is  this  doctrine, 
that  the  scheme  of  Salvation  is  inefficient  without  it ;  for,  for  what 
other  cause  did  the  Savior  come  into  the  world,  or  in  what  other 
sense  could  he  be  said  to  die  for  us?  I  have  seen  much  of  what  may 
be  called  the  working  of  this  doctrine,  and,  unable  as  I  am  to  com- 
prehend it  in  the  abstract,  have  admired  its  wonderful  adaptation  to 
the  nature  and  wants  of  man.  There  is  no  place  where  its  impor- 
tance can  be  better  appreciated  than  beside  a  death-bed.  In  the 
closing  scene  of  life,  man's  boasted  virtues  become,  in  most  instances, 
so  intangible  that  they  elude  his  grasp;  and  his  sins,  however  little 
noted  before,  start  up  around  him  like  so  many  threatening  specters, 
to  call  up  all  his  remorse  for  the  past,  and  all  his  fears  for  the  future. 
It  is  then  that  the  scheme  of  Redemption  appears  worthy  of  the  in- 
finite wisdom  and  infinite  goodness  of  a  God ;  that  the  righteousness 
of  Him,  who  ever  went  about  doing  good,  appears  an  inexhaustible 
fund  to  which  we  may  apply;  that  the  agony  in  the  garden,  the 
mockeries  and  scourgings  in  the  hall,  the  inconceivable  sufferings  and 
shame  of  the  cross,  array  themselves  on  the  side  of  mercy,  and  sum 
up  efficacy  enough  to  annihilate  every  sin.  It  is  when  every  minor 
light  of  comfort  is  extinguished  that  the  Savior  shines  forth,  and 
more  than  compensates  for  them  all. 

"So  much  for  the  fitness  of  this  scheme.  I  have  stated  that,  re- 
garded in  the  abstract,  it  surpasses  my  comprehension ;  but  do  not 
suppose  from  this  that  it  is  more  surrounded  by  difficulties  than  any 
of  the  many  schemes  of  religion  which  men  have  opposed  to  it.  The 
simplicity  of  most  of  these  is  but  an  apparent  simplicity,  complete  in  the 
eyes  of  the  shallow  thinker,  but  which  entirely  disappears  when  sub- 
jected to  the  gaze  of  a  superi or  discernment.  True,  the  difficulties 
of  Christianity  may  be  more  strikingly  apparent  than  those  of  phil- 
osophic religions,  but  it  is  only  because  God  in  his  goodness,  instead 
of  confining  it  to  the  acute  and  the  highly  talented,  has  brought  it 


426  HUGH     MILLER. 

down  to  the  level  of  the  whole  race  of  man;  and  thus  common 
capacities  are  brought  in  contact  with  truths  of  so  lofty  and  abstruse 
a  character  that  the  greatest  minds  can  but  see  their  importance  and 
consistency  without  being  able  to  comprehend  them.  It  is  well, 
however,  that  the  heart  of  the  simplest  can  be  made  to  feel  their 
fitness;  and  that  the  excellence  of  doctrines  too  mighty  to  be 
grasped  by  the  most  capacious  minds  can  be  so  appreciated  by 
babes  as  to  be  made  effectual  to  their  salvation. 

"After  all  our  reasonings,  my  dear  William,  it  is  through  the 
heart  alone  that  we  can  lay  hold  of  the  Savior ;  and  to  prepare  the 
heart,  'by  working  faith  in  it,'  is  the  office  of  that  Spirit  which  God 
giveth  to  all  who  ask  it.  Have  you  ever  considered  the  doctrine  of 
the  Trinity,  and  the  peculiar  fitness  which  it  gives  to  the  character 
of  God  as  a  God  of  man  ?  Perhaps  the  query  is  rather  obscure ; 
what  I  mean  to  express  is  this :  One  great  proof  of  the  wisdom  of 
the  Deity  is  derived  from  that  exquisite  adaptation  of  parts  which 
obtains  throughout  creation.  You  have  studied  this  in  the  human 
frame,  and  must  have  seen,  in  extending  your  view,  that  not  more 
admirably  are  the  parts  of  that  frame  fitted  to  each  other  than  man 
as  a  whole  is  fitted  to  external  nature.  Now,  by  rising  a  little  higher, 
and  taking  with  you  the  Scripture  character  of  a  triune  God,  you  will 
perceive  that  there  is  yet  a  third  exquisite  adaptation  of  the  nature 
of  man  to  the  nature  of  the  Deity, — what,  indeed,  we  might  expect, 
when  we  consider  for  what  purpose,  and  in  whose  image,  man  was 
originally  created.  The  subject  far  exceeds  the  limits  to  which  I  am 
restricted,  but  I  must  attempt  giving  you  a  brief  outline  of  my  mean- 
ing: In  all  true  philosophy,  God  is  regarded  as  the  first  cause  of  all 
things,  and  as  uncaused  himself.  Necessarily,  then,  he  must  have 
existed  from  eternity,  while  every  thing  else  must  have  begun  to  exist; 
and  ere  that  beginning,  he  must  have  existed  an  eternity  alone.  But 
is  this,  his  eternity  of  solitude,  to  be  regarded  as  the  womb  of  Deity, 
in  which,  though  his  thoughts  might  be  employed  (I  am  acquainted 
with  only  the  language  of  earth),  his  affections  lay  dormant  ?  Surely 
not.  Who  can  think  of  a  God  of  infinite  goodness  existing  for  an 
eternity  without  love?  But  love  requires  an  object,  and  God  ex- 
isted alone.  Yes ;  but  when  we  feel  that  the  ill-conceived  God  of 
the  philosopher  must,  so  circumstanced,  have  been  a  solitary  being, 
we  know  that  the  God  of  the  Christian  existed  in  the  society  of 
himself — regarding  the  Son  and  the  Spirit  with  an  infinite  love,  and 
infinitely  beloved  by  them.  Is  there  not  something  wonderfully 
pleasing  in  this  view  of  the  character  of  God — something  that  har- 
monizes with  our  nature  and  all  its  affections  of  love,  friendship, 
brotherly  affection,  filial  attachment,  and  paternal  regard?  And  then 
to  think  that  all  the  persons  of  the  adorable  Godhead  are  interested 
in  us,  and  perform  a  part  in  our  redemption !  The  Father  willed  that 
the  Son  should  be  sent,  the  Son  became  man  and  died  for  us,  and  by 
the  Spirit  is  the  sacrifice  made  effectual  to  us,  and  our  hearts  pre- 


THE     BANK     ACCOUNTANT.  427 

pared.     It  is  surely   no   marvel    that    angels*  desire  to  look  into  a 
mystery  so  fraught  with  the  wisdom  and  goodness  of  Deity. 

"Permit  me  again,  my  dear  William,  to  recommend  to  you  Jesus 
Christ  as  the  only  Savior.  Open  all  your  heart  to  him,  for  he  is  man 
and  can  sympathize  in  all  its  affections;  trust  yourself  implicitly  in 
him,  for  he  is  God,  omnipotent  to  aid  and  unable  to  deceive.  Faith 
can  realize  his  presence,  and  there  is  happiness  to  be  found  in  his 
society,  when  the  full  heart  pours  itself  out  before  him,  of  which  the 
world  can  form  no  conception.  In  life  or  in  death,  in  health  or  in 
sickness,  it  is  well  to  be  able  to  lean  one's  self  on  him,  as  John  did 
at  the  last  supper,  and  to  feel  as  it  were  the  heart  of  his  humanity 
beating  under  the  broad  buckler  of  his  power.  Whatever  it  may  be 
your  fate  to  encounter, — whether  protracted,  spirit-subduing  indispo- 
sition, or  that  solemn  and  awful  change  so  big  with  interest  to  the 
human  heart,  and  so  fitted  to  awaken  its  hopes  and  its  fears ;  or 
whether  you  are  to  be  again  restored  to  the  lesser  cares  and  narrower 
prospects  of  the  present  life, — in  whatever  circumstances  placed,  or 
by  whatever  objects  surrounded,  you  will  find  him  to  be  an  all-suffi- 
cient Savior,  and  the  friend  that  sticketh  closer  than  a  brother.  Would 
that  I  were  more  worthy  to  recommend  him  to  you, — more  like  him- 
self; but  I  know  you  will  forgive  me  the  freedom  with  which  I  write, 
and  that  you  will  not  associate  with  his  infinite  wisdom  and  purity 
any  of  the  folly  or  the  evil  which  attaches  to,  my  dear  William,  your 
sincere  and  affectionate  friend, 

"HUGH  MILLER." 


OFFER  OF   A    SITUATION RESOLVES   TO   ACCEPT   IT SAILS    FOR    EDIN- 
BURGH— INTERCOURSE   WITH    SIR   THOMAS    D.    LAUDER — LINLITHGOW. 

Many  as  are  the  happy  circumstances  which  we  have  noted  in 
Hugh  Millei's  life,  it  is  to  be  remembered  that,  at  the  age  of  thirty- 
two,  he  still  finds  himself  a  stone-mason ;  and  that  he  is  ardently  at- 
tached to  a  lady,  whom  he  has  inflexibly  resolved  not  to  marry  while 
he  continues  to  earn  his  bread  by  the  labor  of  his  hands.  The  scheme 
of  emigration  to  America,  almost  insuperable  as  were  his  objections 
to  it,  begins  to  be  again  entertained.  "  My  mother,"  says  Mrs. 
Miller,  "had  at  length  agreed,  if  nothing  suitable  turned  up,  to  give 
us  three  hundred  pounds  of  mine,  of  which  she  had  the  life-interest; 
and  with  this  sum  we  were  to  face  the  great  wilderness."  Such  is 
Hugh's  outlook  towards  the  end  of  1834 ;  the  final  decision  on  the 
question  of  emigration  being,  I  suppose,  deferred  until  the  volume 
of  Traditions,  of  which  we  have  heard  so  much,  and  which  is  now 
getting  actually  into  the  printer's  hands,  shall  have  seen  the  light. 

One  morning  he  sits  down,  by  invitation,  to  breakfast  with  Mr. 
Robert  Ross,  just  appointed  agent  of  the  Commercial  Bank  in  Cro- 
marty.  Mr.  Ross  is  a  warm  friend  of  Miller's,  and  has  asked  him 


428  HUGH     MILLER. 

to  his  house  on  this  occasion  to  have  some  talk  on  a  matter  of  busi- 
ness. Mr.  Ross  mentions  that  he  will  want  an  accountant,  that  the 
young  man  who  had  been  thought  of  for  the  situation  can  not  find 
security,  and  that  his  guest  may  have  the  place  if  he  will.  Hugh  is 
taken  by  surprise,  and,  with  his  usual  diffidence,  commences  to  make 
excuse.  "I  know  nothing,"  he  says,  "  of  business,  and  very  little  of 
figures ;  there  is  not  a  person  in  the  country  worse  qualified  for  the 
office."  Mr.  Ross  understands  his  man,  and  persists.  "Say,  how- 
ever, that  you  accept,  and  I  shall  become  responsible  for  the  rest." 
Hugh  reflects  for  a  few  moments.  "I  thought  of  the  matter;  I  re- 
membered that  no  man  was  ever  born  an  accountant ;  and  that  the 
practice  and  perseverance,  which  do  so  much  for  others,  might  do  a 
little  for  me.  The  appointment,  too,  came  to  me  so  unthought  of, 
so  unsolicited,  and  there  seemed  to  be  so  much  of  the  providential 
in  it,  that  I  deemed  it  duty  not  to  decline."  This  last  was  no  mere 
conventional  phrase  on  the  lips  of  Miller.  His  religion,  quiet  and 
unobtrusive  as  it  was,  had  impressed  itself  upon  all  his  habits  of 
thought  and  life.  It  had  become  the  one  thing  essential  to  his  hap- 
piness, that  he  should  feel  a  Divine  hand  leading  him.  As  usual  in 
the  changes  of  his  life,  he  regarded  the  alteration  in  his  circumstances 
with  calmness  and  equanimity,  deliberately  glad  to  behold  the  pros- 
pect of  life  in  Scotland  with  the  woman  he  loved  opening  before 
him ;  but  not  forgetful  of  the  tranquil  hours,  so  rich  in  delicate  en- 
joyment of  heart  and  mind,  which  he  had  passed,  mallet  in  hand,  on 
the  chapel  brae  of  Cromarty,  or  in  sequestered  country  church-yards, 
his  thoughts  busy  with  some  problem  of  science,  or  thesis  of  philos- 
ophy, or  newly  discovered  jewel  of  poetry,  while  nature  prepared 
for  him,  in  every  changing  aspect  of  the  landscape,  a  fresh  delight 
for  eye  and  soul. 

To  be  initiated  in  banking,  it  was  necessary  for  him  to  proceed  a 
second  time  to  the  south  of  Scotland.  He  sailed  for  Edinburgh,  ex- 
pecting to  be  taken  into  the  office  of  the  Commercial  Bank  there, 
but  found,  on  his  arrival,  that  he  was  to  be  stationed  in  the  branch 
office  at  Linlithgow.  He  spent  a  few  days  in  Edinburgh,  both  before 
going  on  to  Linlithgow,  and  on  his  return  thence ;  and  experienced, 
on  both  occasions,  great  kindness  from  Sir  T.  Dick  Lauder,  Mr. 
Robert  Paul,  manager  of  the  bank  in  Edinburgh,  and  others. 

Hugh  was  no  sooner  out  of  sight  of  Miss  Eraser  than  he  began 
writing  to  her.  He  embarked  after  nightfall,  November  27,  1834; 
the  ship  weighed  anchor  at  dawn,  and  we  find  him,  pen  in  hand, 
"tossing  on  the  Moray  Frith,  on  the  swell  raised  by  the  breeze  of 
the  previous  night." 

A  few  days  after  reaching  Edinburgh,  the  ardent  lover  £nd  inde- 
fatigable correspondent  writes  that  he  has  been  to  the  Grange  House, 
the  residence  of  Sir  Thomas  Dick  Lauder,  and  says  of  his  reception 
with  enthusiasm.  "I  can  not  express  to  you  the  kindness  with  which 
I  was  received.  He  scolded  me  for  taking  lodgings.  Why  not  come 


VISIT    TO     THE     GRANGE.  429 

and  live  with  him?  And  I  was  only  forgiven  on  condition  that,  after 
arranging  matters  with  the  secretary  of  the  bank,  I  should  part  with 
my  landlady,  and  take  up  my  abode  at  the  Grange.  *  I  have  a  snug 
room  for  you,'  he  said;  'breakfast  shall  be  prepared  for  you  to  suit 
your  office  hours;  and  in  the  evening  I  shall  have  you  to  myself. 
To-morrow  you  must  come  and  dine  with  me ;  I  shall  get  Black,  the 
book-seller,  to  meet  with  you,  and  meanwhile  I  shall  write  him  a  note 
that  will  be  at  once  an  introductory  one  and  an  invitation.'  He  then 
introduced  me  to  Lady  Lauder  and  his  daughters;  showed  me  his 
library, — a  capacious  room,  shelved  all  round,  and  rich  in  the  litera- 
ture of  the  past  and  the  present.  'Here,'  said  he,  'Robertson,  the 
historian,  penned  his  last  work;  and  here,'  opening  the  door  of  an 
adjoining  room, — '  he  died.'  He  next  brought  me  to  the  leads  of  his 
house ;  pointed  out  the  more  striking  features  of  the  scenery ;  told, 
and  told  well,  a  number  of  little  stories  connected  with  it ;  showed 
me  the  extent  of  his  lands — but  I  want  space  to  enumerate.  We 
parted." 

Armed  with  Sir  Thomas's  note,  he  waits  upon  Mr.  Adam  Black, 
future  Lord  Provost  of  Edinburgh,  and  member  of  Parliament  for  the 
city,  and  is  civilly  received.  Next  day  he  starts  for  Linlithgow,  and 
seems  hardly  alighted  there,  when  his  pen  is  again  in  requisition,  to 
describe  to  Miss  Fraser  what  occurred  on  the  evening  passed  with 
Sir  Thomas. 

"  LINLITHGOW,  December. 

"  I  do  not  know  that  I  have  any  thing  more  amusing  to  communi- 
cate to  you,  my  Lydia,  than  what  passed  during  the  evening  I  spent 
at  Sir  Thomas's.  But  I  am  afraid  you  will  find  me  no  Boswell.  I 
would  fain  be  a  faithful  chronicler ;  but,  in  attempting  to  record 
dialogue,  the  words  always  slip  away,  and  only  the  ideas  remain.  My 
invitation  was  for  six  o'clock,  the  fashionable  hour  for  dinner  here ; 
but,  by  missing  the  road  in  the  darkness,  I  was,  unluckily,  rather  late. 
The  Grange  House  is  built  in  the  style  of  two  centuries  ago,  with  a 
number  of  narrow  serrated  gables,  that  break  the  light  into  fantastic 
masses,  by  their  outjets  and  indentation  ;  here  a  pointed  turret,  there 
coped  with  stone,  and  bearing  the  family  crest  atop  ;  yonder  an 
antique  balustrade ;  and,  directly  in  front  of  the  iron-studded  door, 
there  are  two  time-worn  columns  with  a  huge  dragon  sprawling  on 
each.  The  garden  is  in  quite  the  same  ancient  style,  planted  by  some 
old-world  mason,  with  flights  of  stairs,  cross-walls,  and  arches.  The 
first  thing  that  caught  my  eye  on  entering  the  lobby  was  a  huge, 
carved  settle,  of  dark-colored  oak,  with  the  bust  of  a  mitred  prelate 
frowning  from  the  wainscoting  over  it ;  there  were  spears,  too,  resting 
against  the  wall,  and  in  the  antique  staircase  a  host  of  old  paintings 
of  ladies,  in  strange,  uncouth  dresses,  who  were  loved  and  married 
three  centuries  ago  ;  and  of  their  lovers  and  husbands,  grim-looking 
fellows,  with  long  beards  and  coats  of  mail.  I  was  ushered  into  the 


430  HUGH     MILLER. 

parlor,  a  splendid  apartment,  as  lofty  as  any  two  of  our  Cromarty 
rooms  placed  over  each  other,  and  more  capacious  than  any  four,  with 
a  carved  oak  roof,  paneled  sides,  antique  wainscot  furniture,  and  an 
immense  profusion  of  paintings.  Sir  Thomas  and  Mr.  Black  were 
standing  beside  the  fire,  discussing  the  change  in  the  ministry  ;  Lady 
Lauder  was  seated  at  a  work-table  a  little  away.  I  was  received  by  the 
lady  very  kindly,  by  Mr.  Black  very  politely,  by  Sir  Thomas  as  if 
we  had  been  friends  and  companions  for  twenty  years.  The  political 
conversation  was  then  resumed.  Sir  Thomas  remarked  that  if  the 
Duke  of  Wellington  calculated  on  the  soldiery, — and  he  could  not  well 
see  what  else  he  could  calculate  upon, — he  trusted  he  had  mistaken 
their  spirit.  For  the  army,  said  he,  is  composed  of  the  people,  and 
in  a  time  of  peace  like  the  present  must  be  imbibing  their  opinions. 
I  stated  to  him,  in  proof  of  what  he  remarked,  that  I  had  crossed  the 
ferry  of  Fort  George  last  summer  with  a  party  of  soldiers,  and  was 
interested  to  learn,  from  their  conversation,  that  many  of  them  were 
acquainted  with  the  periodicals,  and  fond  of  reading.  And  I  question, 
I  said,  whether  a  reading  soldiery  be  the  best  for  doing  every  thing 
they  are  bid.  Sir  Thomas  deemed  the  remark  of  some  value,  simple 
as  it  may  seem.  .  .  Sir  Thomas  showed  us  a  highly  interesting 
relic  of  Queen  Mary, — a  watch,  formed  like  a  human  skull,  which  was 
presented  by  her  to  that  Lady  Seaton  whom  Scott  has  made  the 
heroine  of  his  Abbot.  The  upper  part  of  the  skull  is  richly  embossed 
with  figures;  there  is  the  crucifixion,  the  adoration  of  the  shepherds, 
and  several  other  Scripture  scenes  connected  with  the  history  of  our 
Savior ;  on  the  sides  there  is  a  series  of  vignettes, — the  frock  without 
a  seam,  the  nails,  the  scourge,  the  crown  of  thorns,  and  the  spear. 
The  workmanship  is  evidently  French. 

"  Sir  Thomas  took  up  a  volume,  presented  by  Sir  Walter  Scott  to 
Lady  Lauder,  and  showed  us  Sir  Walter's  holograph  on  the  title-page. 
'  This,"  said  he,  '  I  deem  a  valuable  volume  ;  and  here  is  something  I 
consider  as  equally  so.'  He  opened  a  portfolio,  and  showed  us  the 
original  plan  and  elevation  of  Abbotsford,  also  a  present  from  Sir 
Walter  to  the  lady.  The  conversation  then  turned  on  Sir  Walter. 
'  I  had  some  curious  correspondence  with  him,'  said  Sir  Thomas, 
*  shortly  before  his  death.  Contrary  to  the  opinion  he  had  formerly 
entertained,  he  then  held  with  Dr.  Jamison,  that  the  Celts  had  never 
inhabited  the  south  of  Scotland.  I  instanced  several  Gaelic  names 
of  places  in  the  south — among  the  rest  that  of  his  own  Melrose,  or  the 
barren  promontory — and  he  seemed  reconvinced  ;  but  half  his  mind 
was  gone  at  the  time.  Our  Gaelic  names,'  continued  Sir  Thomas, 
'  are  strikingly  characteristic  of  either  the  scenery  of  the  places  which 
they  designate,  or  of  some  incident  in  their  history,  so  very  remote, 
perhaps,  as  to  lie  beyond  the  reach  of  written  records.  I  was  led, 
after  writing  my  essay  on  the  parallel  roads  of  Glenroy,  to  examine 
appearances  on  the  course  of  the  Findhorn,  very  similar  to  those  of 
the  highland  glens.  Among  the  rest  there  is  a  holm  on  the  Relugas 


CELTIC     CHARACTER.  43! 

property,  round  the  sides  of  which  I  could  trace  very  distinctly  what 
seemed  to  have  been  at  one  time  the  shores  of  a  lake ;  but  what  was 
my  surprise  when,  on  asking  a  Gaelic  scholar  for  the  etymology  of 
the  name  of  a  field  which  occupies  the  upper  part  of  the  holm,  I  was 
informed  that  it  was  composed  of  two  words  which  mean  '  head  of  the 
loch.'  Now,  at  how  remote  a  period  must  not  the  name  have  been 
given  ? '  I  instanced  some  of  our  Cromarty  names  as  apparently  of 
very  remote  antiquity ;  stated  that  a  moor  in  the  upper  part  of  the 
parish  had,  as  shown  by  its  cairns  and  its  tumuli,  been  the  scene  of 
a  battle  at  so  early  a  period  that  history  bears  no  recollection  of  the 
event,  but  that  a  farm  in  its  vicinity  still  bears  the  name  df  Achnagarne, 
that  is,  field  of  the  carcasses ;  and  that  a  rock  in  the  sea,  which  Sir 
Thomas,  in  his  survey  of  the  burgh,  has  marked  out  as  one  of  its 
boundaries,  and  on  which  tradition  says  a  boat  was  once  wrecked,  is 
still  known  as  Clach  Mallacha,  that  is,  the  stone  of  the  curse.  We 
had  some  conversation  on  the  Celtic  character.  I  described  to  Sir 
Thomas  the  form  of  the  old  Celtic  head,  as  given  us  by  the  phrenol- 
ogists, and  as  I  have  seen  it  in  the  skulls  of  the  Inverness  Museum ; 
concluding  my  description  by  remarking  that  civilization  seems  to 
produce  variety  in  the  human  species,  somewhat  in  the  manner  that 
domestication  produces  it  in  some  of  the  inferior  animals.  Sir 
Thomas  seemed  pleased  with  the  thought,  and  illustrated  it  by  a  fact 
or  two. 

"  He  must  have  been  a  very  busy  man.  He  showed  me  his 
Travels  in  Italy  in  MS.  They  form  four  thick  quarto  volumes,  ele- 
gantly bound,  and  illustrated  with  admirable  crow-quill  drawings.  He 
showed  me  an  elegant  piece  of  penmanship,  '  The  Lamentable  Case 
of  Sir  William  Dick,'  a  thin  folio,  in  which  the  old  style  of  printing 
and  engraving  was  so  well  imitated,  that  it  was  only  from  the  freshness 
of  the  paper  I  detected  it  as  a  copy.  This  Sir  W.  Dick  was  one  of 
his  ancesters  (Scott  makes  David  Dean  allude  to  him,  in  the  Heart  of 
Midlothian,  as  the  godly  provost),  who  was  possessed,  in  the  days  of 
Charles  I. ,  of  the  then  enormous  sum  of  200, ooo/. ,  but  who  lost  almost  all 
during  the  Commonwealth  and  the  reign  of  Charles  II.  Sir  Thomas 
stated  to  us  besides  that  he  had  filled  with  notices  of  his  family  a  roll 
of  vellum  about  eighty  feet  in  length.  On  Mr.  Black  and  I  rising  to 
go  away,  he  took  down  his  large  stick,  and  accompanied  us — by  way 
of  guard,  he  said — for  about  half  a  mile,  and  on  parting  kindly  repeated 
his  invitation  to  me  of  coming  to  the  Grange  the  moment  I  returned 
from  Linlithgow. 

"  I  do  not  know  that  you  have  ever  seen  Sir  Thomas.  He  is  a 
noble-looking,  elderly  man,  upwards  of  six  feet  in  height,  very  erect, 
with  bold,  handsome  features,  and  a  profusion  of  gray  hair,  approach- 
ing to  white,  curling  round  his  temples.  His  head  is  a  very  large 
one,  with  a  splendid  development  of  sentiment.  Benevolence,  vene- 
ration, and  ideality  seem  all  of  the  largest  size.  Love  of  approbation 
and  combativeness  are  also  amply  developed.  His  forehead  is  broad 


432  HUGH     MILLER. 

and  high;  but  the  knowing  organs  are  more  powerful  than  the  reflect- 
ive ones.  The  contour  of  the  whole  is  beautiful,  and  as  much  the 
reverse  of  common-place  as  any  thing  you  ever  saw. 

"My  trunk  being  too  bulky  for  the  coach,  I  took  a  berth  in  a 
canal-boat,  which  leaves  Edinburgh  at  seven  in  the  morning  and 
reaches  this  place  about  ten.  I  saw  little  on  the  passage  to  interest 
me  except  the  old  castle  of  Niddrie,  at  which,  as  you  will  remember, 
Queen  Mary  passed  the  night  after  her  escape  from  Loch  Leven,  and 
in  which  Scott  has  laid  some  of  the  scenes  of  the  Abbot.  My  fellow- 
passengers  were  a  Paisley  shop-keeper  and  a  Linlithgow  farmer;  the 
former  a  smart,  shallow  young  man  ;  the  latter  a  shrewd,  sagacious  old 
fellow,  with  a  decided  cast  of  dry  humor.  On  landing  here,  I  found  the 
bank-accountant,  a  Mr.  Miller,  waiting  my  arrival.  He  introduced  me  to 
Mr.  Paterson,  the  agent.  Both  of  them  are  exceedingly  civil — nay 
more — kind  young  men  ;  but  the  patience  of  both  must  be  sorely 
tried  ere  I  can  have  done  with  them.  I  am  one  of  the  stupidest 
blockheads  you  ever  knew ;  and,  considering  how  extensive  your  ex- 
perience in  this  way  must  have  been  among  your  pupils,  that  is  saying 
something.  For  the  first  day  or  two  I  felt  miserably  depressed  and 
sadly  out  of  conceit  with  myself.  I  do  not  know  what  I  would  not 
have  given  to  have  had  you  beside  me  to  comfort  me,  but  I  dare  say 
you  would  have  begun  by  laughing  at  me.  My  lodgings  here  are 
much  too  fine  and  too  expensive ;  but  they  were  taken  for  me  by  Mr. 
Paterson  at  the  request  of  Mr.  Paul,  who  intimated  my  coming  by 
letter,  and  so  I  could  on  no  account  decline  them.  I  dislike  expense 
even  for  its  own  sake,  and  independent  of  the  embarrassment  which 
it  always  occasions, — especially  when  'tis  incurred  for  a  man's  self, 
for  food  a  little  more  delicate,  and  clothes  a  little  finer,  than  ordinary. 
My  disposition,  too, — as  the  Edinburgh  phrenologists  will,  I  dare  say, 
find, — leads  me  rather  to  acquire  than  to  dissipate.  .  .  .  Remember, 
I  expect  a  reply.  You  little  know  the  exquisite  pleasure  which  I  de- 
rive from  your  letters." 

In  another  letter  he  says  to  her:  "Linlithgow  forms,  as  you  are 
aware,  part  of  the  great  coal-field  of  Scotland,  and  there  are  pits  on 
every  side  of  it.  The  coal  seems  to  have  been  formed  out  of  vast 
accumulations  of  reeds,  somewhat  resembling  in  appearance,  at  least, 
the  sugar-cane.  To  what  a  remote  and  misty  antiquity  do  such  ap- 
pearances lead  us !  To  a  time  in  which  the  district  in  which  I  am 
now  writing  to  you  formed  part  of  the  delta  of  some  immense  river, 
which  drained  of  its  waters  a  widely-extended  continent,  the  place 
of  which  is  now  occupied  by  the  Atlantic.  Think  how  many  ages 
must  have  elapsed  before  the  vegetable  spoils  of  even  the  largest 
stream  could  have  formed  the  depositions  of  so  extensive  a  coal 
measure ;  how  many  more  must  have  passed  in  which  new  accumu- 
lations of  strata  settled  above  these  to  a  depth  of  many  hundred 
feet — settled  so  slowly,  too,  that  each  layer  formed  a  plain  on  which 
plants  and  animals  flourished  and  decayed.  Continue  the  history  till 


CHURCH     AND     PALACE     LINLITHGOW.  433 

the  immense  continent  was  slowly  worn  away,  and  the  sea  beyond, 
enriched  with  the  spoils  of  so  many  ages,  became  a  scene  of  earth- 
quakes and  volcanoes;  and  then,  after  we  have  marked  in  imagina 
tion  the  retiring  of  the  waters,  and  the  ascent  of  a  new  continent 
from  what  had  been  the  profounder  depths  of  the  sea, — after  we  are 
lost  in  calculating  the  periods  which  must  have  elapsed  ere  the  ascent 
of  one  plutonic  eminence  was  followed  by  that  of  another, — antiquity, 
as  it  regards  the  human  race,  has  but  its  beginning.  I  find  myself 
lost  in  immensity  when  I  think  of  such  matters.  But  I  dare  say  you 
have  quite  enough  of  geology  for  one  letter. 

"The  church  of  Linlithgow  is  a  fine  old  building,  well-nigh  as 
entire  in  the  present  day  as  it  was  four  centuries  ago.  In  style  it 
seems  to  hold  a  middle  place  between  the  simple  Norman  Gothic 
and  the  highly  ornamental  Gothic  of  the  reign  of  Henry  VII.;  and 
there  is  a  chastity  in  the  design  of  at  least  the  interior,  which  we 
may  vainly  look  for  in  our  modern  imitation  buildings.  I  never  look 
up  to  a  lofty  stone  roof  without  feelings  of  awe.  Burke  has  said  that 
fear  is  a  necessary  ingredient  in  the  sublime.  I  do  not  know  but 
that  there  is  a  lurking  sensation  of  terror  in  the  feeling  which  I  ex- 
perience ;  it  does  not  owe  its  existence  to  the  art  in  which,  accord- 
ing to  Thomson,  'greatest  seems  the  little  builder  man.'  I  sit  in  the 
northern  aisle  every  Sunday,  beside  a  huge  column,  and  directly 
opposite  the  gallery  in  which  the  specter  appeared  to  James  IV.  The 
clergyman  is  a  fine,  useless  preacher  of  the  Moderate  party,  who 
gives  us  rather  ordinary  matter  dressed  up  in  pretty  good  language. 
He  does  not  pray  on  Sabbaths,  like  our  north-country  ministers,  to 
be  'preserved  from  thinking  his  own  thoughts,'  and  may,  indeed, 
spare  himself  the  trouble — he  has  none  of  his  own  to  think. 

"The  palace  is  situated  a  little  behind  the  church.  It  is  a  huge, 
quadrangular  pile,  about  sixty  paces  on  each  side,  full  of  those  irregu- 
larities which  would  not  be  tolerated  in  a  modern  building,  but  which, 
associated  as  they  are  with  our  conceptions  of  Scotland  in  the  past, 
please  more  than  elegance  itself.  There  runs  along  the  top  a  deeply- 
tusked  cornice;  the  corners  are  crowned  with  turrets,  and  broken 
piles  of  building,  which  finely  vary  the  outline  a-top,  and  rise  high 
above  the  outer  wall  on  either  side.  The  carvings  are  sorely  time- 
worn,  and  they  seem  to  have  been  grotesque  enough  when  at  their 
best.  On  either  side  of  an  old  gateway,  which  was  shut  up  in  the 
reign  of  James  VI.,  there  are  two  Gothic  niches,  surmounted  by 
miniature  cupolas  that  resemble  the  models  of  an  architect;  at  the 
base  of  each  there  is  the  figure  stretching  forth  his  hands,  and  writh-f 
ing  in  agony,  as  if  crushed  by  the  superincumbent  weight.  The 
Scottish  shield,  guarded  by  angels,  is  blazoned  on  an  immense  tablet 
above.  But  decay  has  been  busy  with  the  guardians,  and  with  what 
they  guard.  There  is  a  large  court  in  the  interior,  whose  corners 
are  occupied  by  lofty  towers,  through  each  of  which  a  staircase  leads 
to  the  top.  The  view  inside  is  very  striking;  all  the  sides  are  unlike. 
28 


434  HUGH     MILLER. 

One  of  these  was  built  in  the  reign  of  James  VI.;  and  from  the  ele- 
gance and  peculiar  style  of  the  architecture,  I  would  deem  it  a  design 
of  Inigo  Jones.  The  other  sides  are  of  a  different  character,  and 
testify  of  an  earlier  age.  The  windows  are  square,  and  huge  of  dimen- 
sions, labeled  a- top,  and  divided  into  compartments  by  mull  ions  of 
stone.  There  is  an  uncouth  profusion,  too,  of  Gothic  sculpture.  In 
the  middle  of  the  court  there  are  the  ruins  of  a  well,  and  beside  it  a 
hollow  which  must  once  have  received  its  waters,  and  formed  a  little 
lake ;  but  the  stream  has  long  since  failed.  I  passed  through  a  wil- 
derness of  arched  passages,  with  windows  darkened  by  mullions  of 
crumbling  stone,  and  grated  with  wasted  iron.  I  have  seen  the  room 
in  which  the  unfortunate  Mary  was  born.  I  have  seen,  too,  the 
large  hall  in  which  our  Scottish  parliament  sometimes  assembled,  with 
the  stone  gallery  in  which  the  beauties  of  other  days  have  listened 
to  the  long-protracted  and  often  stormy  debate.  I  ascended  to  the 
top  of  the  building,  and  from  an  elevation  of  nearly  a  hundred  feet 
looked  over  the  surrounding  country.  The  palace  is  built  on  a  grassy 
eminence  that  projects  into  the  lake,  which  extends  about  half  a  mile 
on  either  side  of  it,  and  nearly  as  much  in  front.  A  curtain  of  little 
hills  rises  from  the  opposite  shore,  and  shuts  in  the  scene  towards  the 
north.  To  the  south  we  see  the  town,  and  the  long  line  of  the  canal, 
with  its  multitudinous  bridges;  and  all  around  there  is  an  undulating 
and  freely  diversified  country,  studded  with  abrupt,  woody  knolls  of 
plutonic  formation,  and  speckled  with  human  dwellings.  I  need  not 
tell  you  that,  as  I  looked  from  the  walls  and  saw  so  much  of  the 
antique  and  the  venerable  beneath  me,  and  so  much  of  the  beautiful 
around,  I  wished  for  a  companion  to  see  all  that  I  saw,  and  to  feel  all 
that  I  felt ;  nor  need  I  say,  my  Lydia,  what  companion  it  was  I 
wished  for.  Uncommunicated  pleasure,  you  know,  is  apt  to  change 
its  nature,  and  to  become  pain. 

"  Mr.  Miller,  our  accountant  here,  is  the  son  of  a  dissenting 
clergyman  who  died  about  four  years  ago.  I  have  passed  an  evening, 
with  Mr.  Paterson,  our  bank  agent,  a  frank,  obliging  young  man 
(he  is  five  years  younger  than  I  am),  of  much  general  information, 
and  with  none  of  the  little  pride  of  our  north-country  bankers  in  his 
composition.  Among  the  many  causes  of  gratitude  which  Providence 
has  given  me,  the  kindness  which  I  every-where  meet  with  is  not  one 
of  the  least. 

"  This  is  the  country  of  historical  associations  and  historical  relics. 
I  described  to  you  the  watch  of  Queen  Mary.  I  have  since  seen  two 
.  pieces  of  her  needle-work.  They  are  at  present  in  the  possession  of 
my  landlady,  who  was  for  many  years  housekeeper  to  a  lady  of  quality, 
whose  name  I  forget,  and  who,  at  her  death,  left  her  her  wardrobe — 
the  relics  of  Mary  included.  The  one  is  an  apron,  the  other  a  tippet, 
both  of  muslin,  which  was  once  white,  but  which  now,  both  in  color 
and  in  fragility,  resembles  a  spider's  web.  The  apron  is  a  complex 
piece  of  work, — nearly  as  much  so  as  the  borders  on  which  I  have  so 


VISITS    PRINCIPAL     BAIRD.  435 

often  seen  you  engaged ;  the  tippet  is  simpler.  You  will  laugh  at  me 
when  I  tell  you  that,  all  unpracticed  in  the  art  as  I  am,  I  am  employed 
in  making  a  pattern  of  it  for  you,  that  you  may  see  how  muslin  was 
flowered  in  the  sixteenth  century,  and  bedeck  yourself,  should  you 
deem  it  worth  your  imitation,  in  the  same  style  of  ornament  with  the 
beautiful  Mary.  I  need  not  tell  you  I  am  no  critic  in  such  matters  ; 
it  strikes  me,  however,  that  the  flowering  of  both  pieces  has  a  grotesque, 
Gothic  air,  and  differs  as  much  from  the  needle-work  of  the  present 
day,  as  the  old  castle  of  the  sixteenth  century  does  from  the  modern 
mansion-house.  In  the  possession  of  such  persons  as  my  landlady, 
one  frequently  meets  with  interesting  relics  on  the  last  stage  of  their 
journey  to  oblivion.  The  work-table  on  which  I  write  is  only  about 
twenty  inches  square  a-top  ;  yet  I  am  certain  that  top  must  have  em- 
ployed some  skillful  mechanic  of  a  century  ago  for  a  full  month.  It  is 
curiously  inlaid  with  more  than  four  hundred  little  pieces  of  colored 
wood  and  bone,  and  represents  a  flower-piece." 

Later  he  writes:  "I  was  only  a  few  days  in  Linlithgow  when  a 
gentleman  called  on  Mr.  Paterson  to  inquire  for  me,  stating  that 
Principal  Baird  was  at  his  country  house,  and  very  unwell,  but  desir- 
ous notwithstanding  that  I  should  call  on  him  on  the  following 
Thursday.  I  then  learned  for  the  first  time  that  the  Principal's 
country  house  is  not  more  than  two  miles  from  Linlithgow.  I  found 
the  grounds  in  the  vicinity  of  the  house  laid  out  into  little  patches, 
each  bearing  a  different  variety  of  field  or  garden  vegetables,  and 
altogether  presenting  the  appearance  of  what  is  termed  an  experiment 
farm.  Husbandry  and  gardening  are  two  of  his  hobbies.  The  house 
is  a  little,  old-fashioned  structure.  I  was  shown  into  a  low  parlor  ;  the 
Principal  was  in  bed,  I  was  told,  but  was  just  going  to  try  to  get  up. 
He  found  himself  unable  to  rise,  and  I  was  shown  up  to  his  room.  He 
received  me  with  great  kindness,  held  my  hand  between  both  his  for 
more  than  ten  minutes,  and  overpowered  me  with  a  multitude  of  ques- 
tions,— particularly  regarding  my  new  profession  and  what  had  led  to 
it.  '  Ah,'  said  he,  when  I  had  given  him  what  he  requested, — the 
history  of  my  connection  with  the  bank, — '  the  choice  of  your  towns- 
man, Mr.  Ross,  shows  that  you  still  retain  your  character  for  steadi- 
ness and  probity.'  After  sitting  by  his  bedside  for  a  short  time,  I 
took  my  leave,  afraid  that  he  might  injure  himself  by  his  efforts  to 
entertain  me  ;  for  they  were  evidently  above  his  strength.  It  struck 
me,  too,  that  there  was  a  tone  of  despondency  about  him  which  mere 
indisposition  could  not  have  occasioned.  Benevolent  old  man  !  from 
what  I  have  since  heard,  I  have  too  much  reason  to  conclude  that  his 
sickness  is  of  the  heart." 

Miller  proceeds  to  mention  his  having  formed  the  acquaintance  of 
a  Mr.  Turpie,  at  whose  house  he  was  introduced  to  a  Dr.  Waldie, 
both  unknown  to  fame.  "  Mr.  Turpie,"  he  goes  on,  describing  an 
evening  passed  in  the  company  of  these  gentlemen,  "  took  up  a  book, 
and  showed  me  what  he  deemed  a  very  old  poem.  I  read  a  few 


436  HUGH    MILLER. 

verses,  and  pronounced  it  to  be  a  modern  imitation.  The  decision 
led  to  a  few  queries,  and  the  queries  to  a  sort  of  colloquial  dissertation 
on  old  Scottish  poetry,  a  subject  with  which,  you  know,  I  am  pretty 
well  acquainted.  I  quoted  Barbour,  Dunbar,  Gavin  Douglas,  Lindsay, 
and  a  great  many  others.  The  obsolete  literature  of  our  country  was 
quite  a" 'terra  incognita  to  all  the  party,  but  they  seemed  interested  by 
the  glimpse  I  gave  them  of  it ;  and  Mr.  Turpie,  when  the  conversa- 
tion once  more  became  general,  asked  me,  half  in  simple  earnest,  half 
in  the  style  of  compliment  (a  question  which,  by-the-by,  Mr.  Paterson 
had  put  to  me  a  few  days  before),  '  Pray,  Mr.  Miller,  are  there  any 
books  which  you  have  not  read  ?'  A  few  evenings  after,  the  doctor 
and  Mr.  Turpie  called  on  me  at  my  lodgings.  The  former  is  a  meta- 
physician, and  he  had  come  to  me  apparently  with  the  intention  of 
discussing  what  may  be  termed  the  metaphysics  of  phrenology :  its 
connection,  for  instance,  with  the  grand  question  of  liberty  and 
necessity,  and  the  doctrines  of  the  will.  I  communicated  to  him  my 
ideas  on  the  subject  as  clearly  as  I  could  ;  met  his  objections  when 
they  could  be  met ;  and  showed  him — I  should  rather  say  strove  to 
show  him — the  boundaries  of  that  horizon  of  darkness  which,  closing 
round  the  human  intellect  in  this  direction,  renders  many  of  them 
unanswerable,  not  because  they  are  powerful  as  arguments,  but  because 
they  can  not  be  understood.  We  parted  very  well  pleased  with  each 
other.  'The  doctor,'  said  Mr.  Turpie  to  me  a  few  days  after,  'can 
find  no  line  long  enough  to  measure  you  by ;  he  has  just  met  with  a 
Dr.  Baird,  a  nephew  of  the  Principal,  who  tells  him  that  his  uncle  is 
quite  enthusiastic  regarding  you,  and  deems  you  equal  to  any  thing.' 
But  enough  of  this.  Never  in  my  life  before  did  I  write  any  thing  so 
redolent  of  conceit  as  the  last  page  and  a  half;  but  with  you,  my 
lassie,  I  know  I  am  more  than  safe.  Remember,  too,  I  ejive  you  full 
liberty  to  laugh  at  me  as  much  as  you  please." 

"  EDINBURGH. 

Again  in  reply  to  Miss  Fraser :  "  Dear  me,  what  a  red-hot 
Highlander  you  are  !  You  make  me  say  things  against  the  poor  Celt 
I  never  so  much  as  thought  of,  merely,  I  suppose,  that  you  may  have 
the  pleasure  of  defending  him.  Who  ever  doubted  that  the  poems  of 
Ossian  were  the  compositions  of  a  Scotch  Highlander  ?  Truly  not  I, 
nor  any  one  else  I  ever  heard  of,  except  a  few  Irishmen.  They  were 
written  by  a  countryman,  every  line  of  them, — bating  the  little  bits 
that  were  borrowed  from  Milton  and  the  Bible, — by  a  genuine  coun- 
tryman, who,  though  not  over-endowed  with  honesty,  equaled  in 
genius  any  writer  of  his  age.  Ossian,  indeed,  or  Oscian,  as  the  Irish 
call  him,  was,  as  you  know,  a  bog-trotter  of  the  beautiful  island,  who 
made  ballads  in  the  days  of  the  good  St.  Patrick,  and  sold  them  for 
half-pence  a  piece  ;  but  who  can  say  that  of  MacPherson  ? 

"  Since  you  love  Highlanders  so  well,  I  fain  wish  I  could  introduce 
you  to  my  cousin,  George  Munro.  I  would  not  fear  to  match  him,  as 


MUNRO     THE     HIGHLANDER.  437 

a  specimen  of  what  his  country  can  produce,  against  your  Alness 
Highlander  or  any  Highlanders  you  ever  saw.  He  resides  with  his 
wife  and  family  in  Stirling,  and  since  I  last  wrote  you  I  have  spent 
a  day  with  him.  Let  me  describe  him  to  you  as  he  is,  both  in  mind 
and  person.  He  is  a  well-built,  robust  man  of  five  feet  eight,  large- 
limbed,  broad-shouldered,  keen-eyed,  and  with  resolution  stamped  on 
every  feature.  Nature  has  written  man  on  his  whole  appearance  in 
her  most  legible  hand.  But  what  I  have  to  add,  will,  I  am  afraid, 
give  you  a  lower  opinion  of  him.  No  one  ever  regarded  me  as  par- 
ticularly well  built  or  handsome.  I  am,  besides,  fifteen  years  younger 
than  my  cousin,  and  yet,  through  one  of  those  tricks  of  resemblance 
so  strangely  occasioned  by  blood,  I  have  been  repeatedly  addressed  as 
Mr.  Munro.  His  mind  is  one  of  the  most  restless  and  most  concen- 
trated in  its  energies  I  ever  knew.  He  never  yet  attempted  any 
thing  which  he  did  not  master,  and  never  mastered  any  thing  of 
which  he  did  not  tire.  He  was  born  in  the  Highlands  of  Sutherland, 
and  bred  a  mason ;  no  one  could  have  fewer  opportunities  of  im- 
provement, and  yet  he  was  not  much  turned  of  twenty  ere  he  had 
added  to  the  commoner  rules  of  his  art  a  knowledge  of  architecture, 
drawing,  and  the  mathematics.  The  intellectual  man  is  rarely  an 
athlete,  but  George  had  a  body  as  well  as  mind  to  educate,  and  after 
studying  the  mathematics  he  set  himself  to  study  the  art  of  defense, 
and  became  so  skillful  a  pugilist  that  there  are  few  professed  boxers 
who  would  gain  in  a  contest  with  him.  He  resided  at  this  time  in 
Glasgow.  On  his  return  home,  he  married,  and  took  a  little  farm  on 
the  banks  of  a  Highland  loch,  where  he  proposed  to  himself  to  spend 
his  days.  But  he  soon  tired  of  the  agricultural  life ;  it  was  too  quiet 
and  too  monotonous,  and,  quitting  the  farm,  he  engaged  as  superin- 
tendent of  some  saw-mills  erecting  in  that  part  of  the  country,  and 
proved  for  some  months,  from  his  thorough,  though  hastily  acquired, 
knowledge  of  the  machinery,  a  most  serviceable  man  to  his  employers. 
He  sickened,  however,  at  the  ceaseless  clatter  of  the  wheels,  and, 
throwing  up  his  superintendency,  he  again  resumed  the  mallet.  He 
then  became  a  slater,  and  proved  one  of  the  best  in  the  country;  but 
the  details  of  the  art  were  too  soon  mastered  to  engage  him  long. 
He  next  applied  himself  to  Gaelic  literature,  and  published  a  trans- 
lation of  Bunyan's  Visions,  which  has  been  commended  as  true  to 
both  the  spirit  and  sense  of  the  original.  He  then  spent  some  time 
in  fruitlessly  attempting  to  square  the  circle,  in  studying  botany,  and 
in  the  composition  of  a  metrical  tale.  He  then  taught  a  school,  and 
applied  to  the  General  Assembly  to  be  admitted  on  their  list  of 
teachers  ;  but  was  unfortunately  unsuccessful.  His  next  employment, 
unlike  any  of  the  others,  was  almost  forced  upon  him, — he  was 
nominated  superintendent  of  a  bridge  erecting  over  the  Forth,  and 
acquitted  himself  with  so  much  credit,  that  some  of  the  neighboring 
gentlemen  urged  him  to  stay  in  that  part  of  the  country.  George 
consented,  and  became  a  civil  engineer.  Lord  Abercrombie  requested 


438  HUGH    MILLER. 

him  to  inspect,  if  he  had  courage  enough,  a  copper  mine  in  Airdrie, 
which  had  lain  unwrought  for  many  years,  and  which,  damp  and 
dark,  and  full  of  water  and  unwholesome  gases,  was  deemed  inacces- 
sible by  all  the  other  engineers  of  the  country.  George  knew  very 
little  of  copper  mines,  but  he  furnished  himself  with  a  torch,  and, 
without  assistant  or  companion,  explored  the  cavern  to  its  inmost  ex- 
tremity, and  then  drew  up  a  report  which  has  since  been  successfully 
acted  upon.  Some  works  of  an  unusual  and  difficult  character  were 
projected  last  season  on  the  river  Dee.  George  undertook  the  super- 
intendency  of  them,  constructed  a  theodolite  for  himself,  accomplished 
several  difficult  levelings,  which  a  recent  survey  has  proved  to  be 
correct,  departed  from  the  original  plan,  and  executed  the  whole  in 
a  manner  which  the  original  designer  has  pronounced  more  complete 
and  effective.  An  eminent  lawyer  has  described  his  reports  as  at  once 
the  plainest  and  most  rational  ever  presented  to  him ;  but  George 
has  become  master  enough  of  his  new  profession  to  long  for  another ; 
and  ere  I  parted  from  him  he  told  me  that  he  wishes  much  for  some 
employment,  such  as  that  of  a  Gaelic  teacher,  which  would  afford  him 
leisure  to  write  a  work  on  etymology. 

"This  is  a  curious  portrait,  but  it  is  that  of  the  individual,  not  that 
of  the  Highlander;  a  few  strokes  more,  and  you  shall  see  it  envel- 
oped in  tartan.  Never  was  there  man  more  zealous  for  the  honor  of 
his  country ;  he  finds  more  mind  in  her  poets,  and  more  meaning  in 
her  language,  than  in  the  language  and  the  poets  of  every  other  put 
together.  Ossian  surpasses  Homer,  and  nothing  can  be  more  absurd 
than  to  question  the  authenticity  of  his  poems.  He  seems  to  have 
attached  himself  to  him  by  a  true  Highland  contract,  and  stands  by 
him  on  all  occasions  in  '  the  right  and  the  wrong.'  To  conclude,  he 
has  all  the  characteristic  courage  of  his  countrymen,  and  all  their 
hospitality  and  warmth  of  heart.  He  accompanied  me  eleven  miles 
on  my  way  to  Linlithgow,  and  as  he  shook  my  hand  at  parting,  I 
saw  the  tear  gather  in  his  eye.  Do  not  grudge  him,  my  Lydia,  the 
page  and  a  half  which  I  have  devoted  to  him ;  nor  chide  me  when  I 
tell  you  that  I  read  to  him  the  part  of  your  letter  in  which  you  describe 
the  Alness  Highlander  and  the  Ross-shire  clergy.  His  remark  on  your 
style  you  will  deem  a  neat  one.  'There  are,'  said  he,  'more  Mrs. 
Grants  than  one.' 

"I  saw  much  in  my  journey  that  interested  me;  never  before  did  I 
pass  over  so  large  a  tract  of  the  classic  ground  of  Scotland.  Almost 
every  stream  and  mountain  in  this  district  have  been  celebrated  in 
scng ;  almost  every  plain  has  been  a  field  of  battle.  I  stood  at  Ban- 
nockburn,  on  the  stone  where  Bruce  fixed  his  standard,  and  repeated 
to  my  cousin  the  spirited  description  of  Barbour.  I  have  seen  the 
scene  of  Wallace's  conference  with  the  elder  Bruce;  that  of  the  bat- 
tle of  Shirramuir,  of  Stirling  Bridge,  and  of  Falkirk  ;  the  tombs  of 
Sir  John  the  Graham,  Sir  John  Stuart,  and  Sir  Robert  Munro ;  the 
site  of  the  house  in  which  James  III.  was  assassinated;  the  room  in 


LITERARY     PURSUITS. 


439 


Stirling  Castle  in  which  his  father,  James  II.,  stabbed  the  Black 
Douglas;  the  pulpit  of  John  Knox;  the  Tor-wood  in  which  Wallace 
so  often  sheltered  from  the  English,  and  in  which  Cargill  excommu- 
nicated Charles  II. ;  the  links  of  Forth,  rendered  classic  by  Macneil ; 
and  the  distant  peaks  of  Ben  Lomond  and  Ben  Ledi.  Had  I  time 
for  geological  disquisition,  I  could  tell  you  something  curious  of  the 
valley  of  the  Forth,  and  of  some  singular  etymologies  given  me  by 
my  cousin,  which,  like  the  name  of  the  holm  mentioned  by  Sir 
Thomas,  threw  light  on  a  very  remote  period.  In  founding  the  piers 
of  the  new  bridge,  the  workmen  dug  through  a  layer,  composed 
mostly  of  marine  exuviae,  in  which  they  found  the  skull  of  a  wolf, 
with  several  other  remains  of  a  very  early  age, — the  productions  of 
art.  There  is  an  eminence  that  rises  out  of  the  bottom  of  the  valley, 
quite  in  the  manner  that  Inchkeith  does  out  of  the  frith,  which  still 
bears  in  Gaelic  the  name  of  the  Island,  though  now  fully  five  miles 
from  the  sea;  and  a  hollow  that  lies  still  farther  up  continues  to  be 
known  as  the  Bay  of  the  Anchors.  But  all  these  topics  we  shall 
discuss  when  we  meet.  Heigh-ho,  my  Lydia,  we  have  missed  many 
a  happy  meeting  this  winter ! 

"Since  coming  here  I  have  made  a  very  few  accessions  to  my 
library.  .  .  My  own  volume  is  getting. on  pretty  well ;  I  have  re- 
turned proofs  of  the  first  two  hundred  pages;  but  I  am  afraid  I  have 
committed  a  sad  blunder  regarding  it.  Nothing  could  have  been 
easier  for  me  than  to  have  rendered  it  an  unbroken  series  of 
legendary  stories;  I  have  materials  at  will,  and  find  no  difficulty  in 
narration.  As  it  is,  however,  it  abounds  in  dissertation  ;  and  holding, 
as  it  does,  a  middle  station  between  works  of  amusement  and  abstract 
thinking,  runs  no  small  risk,  I  am  afraid,  of  being  neglected  by  the 
readers  of  both.  Was  it  not  strange  that  I  should  not  have  discov- 
ered this  when  the  work  was  in  manuscript  ?  But  it  is,  I  believe,  of 
almost  general  experience  among  writers,  that  their  productions  must 
appear  in  print  before  they  can  form  an  estimate  regarding  them  at 
all  approaching  to  correct.  Lavater  used  to  remark  that  his  works, 
when  in  MS.,  appeared  to  him  almost  faultless,  though  no  sooner 
had  they  passed  through  the  press  than  he  became  frightened  to  look 
at  them.  Pope  has  expressed  himself  to  nearly  the  same  purpose. 
Well,  the  past  can't  be  recalled,  but  I  may  trust  that  my  fate  is  not 
staked  on  one  throw,  and  that  the  next  may  be  a  better  game. 

"On  Wednesday  last  I  dined  with  Principal  Baird,  and  have  seldom 
spent  an  evening  more  pleasantly.  He  was  in  one  of  his  happiest 
moods,  and  full  of  anecdote  and  remark.  He  seems  to  form  a  kind 
of  connecting  link  between  the  literature  of  the  past  and  of  the  pres- 
ent age.  In  his  youth  he  was  the  friend  and  companion  of  men 
whose  names  leap  to  our  tongues  when  we  sum  up  the  glories  of  our 
country, — of  Burns  and  Robertson  and  Blair.  Nearly  fifty  years  ago, 
he  edited  the  poems  of  Michael  Bruce,  in  behalf  of  the  mother  of 
the  poet,  who  was  then  very  poor  and  very  old, — childless,  and  a 


440  HUGH    MILLER. 

widow.  Twenty  years  after,  he  was  the  warm  friend  and  patron  of 
the  linguist  Murray.  He  was  the  first  who  introduced  Pringle,  the 
poet,  to  the  notice  of  the  public.  He  lived  on  terms  of  the  closest 
intimacy  with  Sir  Walter  Scott,  and  is  thoroughly  acquainted  with 
Wilson.  What  a  stride  from  the  times  of  the  historian  of  Charles  V. 
to  those  of  the  editor  of  '  Blackwood's  Magazine !  '  Does  it  not 
sound  somewhat  strangely  that  the  friend  and  contemporary  of  the 
amiable  though  ill-fated  poet  of  Kinross,  who  died  nearly  sixty  years 

ago,  should  be  the  warm  friend  of  your  own  H M ?     I  need 

not  tell  you  how  very  interesting  I  found  his  anecdotes.  He  gave 
me  notes  of  his  conversations  with  Burns,  and  of  his  correspondence 
with  Scott.  One  of  his  remarks  regarding  the  former  in  connection 
with  somebody  else,  I  am  too  vain  to  suppress.  'Burns,'  said  he, 
'  excelled,  all  men  I  ever  knew  in  force  of  genius;  he  leaped  to  his 
conclusions  with  a  vigor  altogether  wonderful ;  but  I  do  not  agree 
with  those  who  regard  his  mind  as  equally  powerful  in  all  its  facul- 
ties. Any  task  that  required  prolonged  and  steady  exertion  was  no 
task  for  him ;  and  I  have  remarked  that  his  good  sense  never  reached 
the  dignity  of  philosophy.  The  writer  who  chose  so  humble  a 
theme  as  the  "  Herring  Fishery  of  the  Moray  Frith,"  has,  I  dare  say, 
never  thought  of  entering  the  lists  with  Burns;  nor,  perhaps,  could 
he  produce  such  poems  as  "Tarn  o'  Shanter"  and  the  "Cotter's 
Saturday  Night;"  but,  in  tracing  causes  and  deducing  effects,  Burns 
might  just  as  vainly  have  entered  the  lists  with  him.' ' 

HIS  FIRST  PROSE   BOOK CORRESPONDENCE   ON    THE   SUBJECT — LETTERS 

FROM    MR.    CARRUTHERS    AND    MR.     R.     CHAMBERS  —  RECEPTION   AND 
CHARACTER  OF  THE   BOOK — DONALD  MILLER. 

While  initiating  himself,  not  without  irksomeness,  into  the  routine 
of  bank  business,  and  astonishing  Mr.  Turpie  by  the  extent  of  his 
reading,  Miller  occupied  his  spare  moments  in  Linlithgow  in  correct- 
ing the  proof-sheets  of  the  "Scenes  and'  Legends  in  the  North  of 
Scotland."*  It  was  his  first  grand  effort  in  prose,  his  first  clear  pref- 
erence of  a  claim  to  have  his  name  inscribed  in  the  list  of  English 
authors.  The  "Poems  by  a  Journeyman  Mason"  had  been  printed 
at  his  own  expense,  in  Inverness.  The  "  Letters  on  the  Herring 
Fishery"  had  filled  but  a  moderately  sized  pamphlet.  Here,  at  last, 
was  an  unmistakable  book,  introduced  to  the  reading  world  by  pub- 
lishing firms  of  the  highest  eminence  in  Edinburgh  and  London.  We 
have  had  a  glimpse  of  the  difficulties  encountered  in  bringing  it  this 
length,  but  what  we  have  seen  will  not  by  any  means  represent  to  us 
their  full  extent,  or  the  amount  of  exertion  to  which  Miller  submitted 

•Reprinted  in  the  United  States  by  Wm.  H.  Moore  &  Co.,  sixteen  years  later, 
in  1851,  after  they  published  "  Foot-prints  of  the  Creator,"  from  the  Edinburgh 
edition,  with  a  sketch  of  the  author's  life,  by  Sir  David  Brewster. 


HIS     FIRST     PROSE     BOOK.  44! 

in  the  furtherance  of  his  project.  From  his  correspondence  on  the 
subject  we  shall  take  two  or  three  additional  passages,  recollecting, 
while  we  read,  that  for  at  least  two  years  he  was  engaged  in  the  task 
of  opening  a  way  for  the  publication  of  his  volume. 

Here,  first,  is  his  account  of  the  conception  and  plan  of  the  book, 
as  presented  to  his  tried  and  faithful  friend,  Sir  T.  D.  Lauder,  so 
early  as  March,  1833:  "In  making  choice  of  my  subject,  I  thus 
reasoned  with  myself:  White's  'Natural  History  of  Selborne'  is  a 
most  popular  little  book,  and  deservedly  so,  though  Selborne  itself 
be  but  an  obscure  parish  somewhere  in  the  south  of  England.  The 
very  local  title  of  the  work  has  not  in  the  least  militated  against  its 
interest.  But  why?  Partly,  it  would  seem,  from  the  very  pleasing 
manner  in  which  it  is  written;  partly  because  the  natural  history  of 
even  a  single  parish  may  be  regarded  as  the  natural  history  of  the 
whole  country  in  which  that  parish  is  included.  And  may  not  the 
germ  of  a  similar  popularity  be  found,  if  the  writer  do  not  fail  in  his 
part,  in  the  traditional  history  of  a  Scottish  village  ?  Which  of  all 
the  animals  is  a  more  interesting  study  than  man  ?  Or  can  those 
varieties  of  any  of  the  numerous  classes  which  we  find  in  one  district 
.  of  country  be  more  clearly  identified  with  the  varieties  which  we  find 
in  another,  than  we  can  identify  with  one  another  those  multiform 
classes  of  the  human  character  which,  though  every-where  different 
in  their  minor  traits,  are  every-where  alike  in  their  more  important? 
Besides,  the  history  of  one  Scottish  village  is,  in  some  measure,  the 
history  of  every  one;  nay,  more,  it  may  form  a  not  unimportant 
portion  of  that  of  the  kingdom  at  large. 

The  people  of  Scotland,  in  all  its  several  districts,  have  been 
moving  forward,  throughout  the  last  century,  over  nearly  the  same 
ground,  though  certainly  not  at  the  same  pace;  and  a  faithful 
detail  of  the  various  changes  and  incidents  which  have  occurred 
during  their  march,  from  what  they  were  in  the  past  to  what  they 
are  in  the  present,  can  not  surely  be  merely  local  in  its  interest. 
What  does  it  matter  that  we  examine  but  only  a  little  part  of  any 
thing,  if  from  that  part  we  acquire  an  ability  to  judge  of  the  whole? 
The  philosopher  can  subject  but  comparatively  small  portions  of  any 
substance  to  the  test  of  experiment ;  but  of  how  wide  an  application 
are  the  laws  which  he  discovers  in  the  process ! 

"You  will  perceive  at  a  glance  the  conception  I  thus  formed  of 
my  task  was  somewhat  too  high  to  leave  me  any  very  great  chance 
of  satisfying  myself  in  the  execution  of  it.  I  have  not  done  so,  and, 
indeed,  could  be  almost  sorry  if  I  had.  I  have  frequently  met  with 
an  ingenious  argument  for  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  drawn  from 
the  dissatisfaction  which  it  always  experiences  in  the  imperfect  good 
of  the  present,  and  from  its  fondly  cherished  expectations  of  a  more 
complete  good  in  the  future;  and  so  long  as  I  am  dissatisfied  with 
what  I  write,  and  with  how  I  think,  I  solace  myself,  on  a  nearly 
similar  principle,  with  the  hope  that  I  shall  one  day  write  better,  and 


442  HUGH     MILLER. 

think  more  justly.  My  traditional  history,  however,  is,  I  trust,  not 
a  very  dull  one ;  it  is  a  different  sort  of  work,  in  some  respects, 
from  any  of  a  merely  local  cast  I  have  yet  chanced  to  see;  and  I  am 
of  opinion,  though  I  dare  say  I  may  be  mistaken  by  that  partiality 
which  men  insensibly  form  for  any  pursuit  in  which  they  have  long 
been  engaged,  that  a  set  of  works  of  a  similar  character  would  not 
be  quite  without  its  use  in  the  literature  of  our  country.  The  occur- 
rences of  even  common  life  constitute,  if  I  may  so  speak,  a  kind  of 
alphabet  of  invention, — the  types,  rather,  which  genius  employs  in 
setting  up  her  forms.  She  picks  them  out  in  little  broken  bits  from 
those  cells  of  the  memory  in  which  they  have  been  stored  up,  and 
composes  with  them  entire  and  very  beautiful  pieces  of  fiction.  And 
I  am  convinced  a  set  of  works  similar  in  character  to  my  manuscript 
history — from  each  district  of  the  kingdom — would  form  a  complete 
part  of  this  kind.  Might  not  such  a  set  be  properly  regarded  as  a 
magazine  of  materials  for  genius  to  work  upon?" 

Allan  Cunningham,  in  whom,  as  a  brother  of  the  hammer  and  a 
brother  of.  the  pen,  Miller  took  a  particular  interest,  and  whom  he 
obliged  with  the  sketch  of  Black  Russel,  was  applied  to  when  the 
subscription  scheme  had  been  set  on  foot,  in  the  hope  that  he  might 
do  something  for  the  book  in  London. 

"CROMARTY,  August,  1834. 

"For  the  last  few  years,  I  have  devoted  to  the  pen  well-nigh  all 
the  hours  I  could  spare  from  the  mallet,  and  have  produced  a  volume 
which  I  would  fain  see  in  print.  It  is  traditional,  and  wants  only 
genius  to  resemble  very  much  stome  of  your  own.  Our  materials,  at 
least,  must  have  been  collected  in  the  same  manner  and  from  the  same 
class, — in  prosecuting  a  wandering  employment  in  a  truly  interesting 
country,  rich  with  the  spoils  of  the  past;  in  the  work-shed,  and  the 
barrack,  and  the  cottage,  from  old  men  and  old  women, — the  solitary, 
fast-sinking  remnants  of  a  departed  generation.  But  the  mason  of 
the  north  has  no  such  creative  powers  as  he  of  Galloway, — powers 
that  can  operate  on  a  darkened  chaos  of  obsolete  superstitions  and 
exploded  beliefs,  and  fashion  it  into  a  little  poetical  world,  bright  and 
beautiful,  and  busy  with  passion  and  life.  Still,  however,  my  tradi- 
tions are  not  without  their  interest,  though  possibly  they  may  owe 
little  to  the  collector.  They  are  redolent  of  Scotland  and  the  past, 
and  form  the  harvest  of  a  field  never  yet  subjected  to  any  sickle  ex- 
cept my  own.  Our  northern  districts  seem  to  have  produced  many 
that  could  invent,  but  none  that  could  give  their  inventions  much 
publicity;  many  that  could  think  and  feet  poetry,  but  none  that  could 
write  it;  their  literature  is,  consequently,  an  oral  literature;  their 
very  history  is  traditional ;  they  may  be  thought  of  as  fields  unreaped, 
as  mines  unopened ;  and  must  not  some  little  interest  attach  to  a 
work,  however  deficient  as  a  piece  of  composition,  that  may  properly 
be  regarded  as  a  sample  of  the  grain, — a  specimen  of  the  ore?  I  trust, 


A     FRIENDLY     REPLY.  443 

however,  that  my  mode  of  telling  my  stories  will  not  be  deemed  very- 
repulsive.  I  have  had  a  hard  and  long-protracted  struggle  with  the 
disadvantages  attendant  on  an  imperfect  education.  To  you,  at  least, 
I  need  not  say  how  hard  and  how  protracted  such  a  struggle  must 
always  prove;  but  I  have  at  length,  I  trust,  got  on  the  upper  side  of 
them;  and,  if  I  eventually  fail,  it  will  be  rather  from  a  defect  of 
innate  vigor  than  from  any  combination  of  untoward  circumstances 
pressing  upon  me  from  without. 

"  I  publish  by  subscription,* — from  the  nature  of  the  work  and 
the  obscurity  of  the  writer,  the  only  way  open  to  me.  But,  trust  me, 
I  have  no  eye  to  pecuniary  advantage ;  I  would  not  give  a  very  little 
literary  celebrity  for  all  the  money  I  ever  saw ;  besides,  bad  as  the 
times  are,  I  am  master  enough  of  the  mallet  to  live  by  it.  I  could 
ill-afford,  however,  the  expense  of  an  unlucky  speculation;  and,  as 
literature  is  not  so  much,  thought  of  in  Cromarty  as  the  curing  of 
herrings,  I  find  that,  without  extending  my  field,  I  can  not  securely 
calculate  on  covering  the  expense  of  publication.  Forgive  me  that  I 
apply  to  you.  I  am  a  pilgrim,  passing  slowly  and  heavily  along  the 
path  which  leads  right  through  the  wicket;  now  floundering  through 
the  mud  of  the  slough,  now  journeying  beside  the  hanging  hill,  now 
plodding  through  the  low-lying  grounds  haunted  by  Apollyon.  And 
what  wonder  that  I  should  think  often  and  much  of  one  who  has 
passed  over  the  same  tract,  and  who,  undeterred  by  the  dark  valley 
or  the  enchanted  grounds,  with  all  their  giants  and  all  their  wild 
beasts,  has  at  length  set  him  down  amid  the  gardens  of  Beulah,  in  full 
view  of  the  glorious  city?  ....  My  book-sellers  in  London 
are  Smith  and  Elder,  to  whom,  should  you  succeed  in  procuring  a  few 
names  for  me,  the  list  may  be  transmitted." 

Allan  sent  a  few  sensible  and  friendly  words  in  reply.  "I  am  glad 
that  you  think  of  publishing;  for  there  is  so  much  truth  and  nature 
and  information  in  your  writings,  that  they  can  not  fail  of  doing  your 
name  a  good  turn.  A  work  of  the  kind  set  forth  in  your  prospectus 
will  be  welcome  to  all  true-hearted  Scotsmen;  and,  though  limited  in 
its  range,  will  influence  many  who  live  besouth  the  Tweed.  I  have 
laid  one  of  your  printed  intimations  on  the  table  of  my  book-seller, 
and  desired  him  to  mention  it  to  his  visitors.  When  the  work  appears 
I  will  say  a  good  word  for  it  with  all  my  heart.  I  mentioned  it  to 
some  friends  here ;  but  you  must  understand  that  the  Londoners  are 
not  accustomed  to  put  down  their  names  for  works  of  a  literary  nature, 
whatever  the  merit  may  be;  but  this  must  not  discourage  you  ;  almost 
all  authors  sacrifice  a  work  or  two  for  the  sake  of  having  their  merits 
made  widely  known.  I  did  this;  and  now  I  find  purchasers,  though 
I  found  few  at  first.  I  desired  our  mutual  friend  Carruthers  to  place 

*As  authors  often  do  now,  by  getting  friends  to  subscribe  before  printing  is 
begun  ;  this,  however,  is  not  the  American  mode  of  publishing  wh.xt  arc  known  as 
M  subscription  books." 


444  HUGH    MILLER. 

my  name  among  the  subscribers  long  before  you  wrote  to  me.  Your 
book-seller  must  send  copies  to  most  of  the  influential  newspapers  and 
reviews ;  a  kind  word  from  them  saves  an  advertisement,  and  possibly 
helps  the  sale  of  the  works.  But  take  a  brother-mason's  as  well  as  a 
brother-writer's  advice:  Don't  be  too  solicitous  about  being  noticed 
in  reviews;  let  the  thing  take  its  course:  a  worthy  work  seldom 
fails." 

One  sample  will  suffice  of  the  letters  in  which  he  applied  to  gentle- 
men of  influence — landed  proprietors,  clergymen,  leading  merchants — . 
in  his  district,  to  countenance  his  enterprise. 

TO  SIR  GEORGE  MACKENZIE,  OF  COUL,  BART. 

"Permit  me  to  submit  to  your  judgment  the  inclosed  prospectus. 
I  am  acquainted  with  only  your  writings,  and  the  high  character 
which  you  bear  as  a  gentleman  of  taste  and  science ;  but  there  is 
more  implied  in  such  an  acquaintance  than  in  a  much  closer  intimacy 
with  a  common  mind ;  and  it  is  the  knowledge  I  have  derived  from 
it  which  now  emboldens  me  to  address  you. 

"I  am  one  of  the  class,  almost  peculiar  to  Scotland,  who  became 
conversant  in  some  little  degree  with  books  and  the  pen  amid  the 
fatigues  and  privations  of  a  life  of  manual  labor.  For  several  years 
past  I  have  amused  my  leisure  hours  in  striving  to  acquire  the  art  of 
the  writer,  and  in  collecting  and  arranging  the  once  widely  spread, 
but  now  fast  sinking,  traditions  of  this  part  of  the  country.  I  have 
written  much,  that  I  might  learn  to  write  well,  and  have  made  choice, 
as  the  scene  of  my  exertions,  of  a  field  so  solitary  and  little  known 
that  I  might  not  have  to  contend  with  laborers  more  practiced  than 
myself;  and  I  have  found  in  this  field  much  that  I  have  felt  to  be 
interesting,  and  much  that  I  deem  original, — incidents  of  a  structure 
wholly  unborrowed,  striking  illustrations  of  character  and  manners, 
inventions  not  unworthy  of  poetry,  and  strongly  defined  traces  of 
thought  and  feeling,  which  might  afford  employment  to  the  philoso- 
pher. 

"My  amusements  at  length  produced  a  volume  which,  though  not 
quite  such  a  work  as  I  had  conceived  might  have  been  written  on  the 
subject,  I  deemed  not  entirely  devoid  of  merit.  I  submitted  my  MS., 
through  Sir  Thomas  D.  Lauder  (a  gentleman  who  has  honored  me 
by  his  notice  and  shown  me  much  kindness),  to  some  of  the  literati 
of  Edinburgh.  Their  judgment  regarding  it  has  been  favorable 
beyond  my  most  sanguine  anticipations.  Still,  however,  the  work  is 
local  in  its  character,  and  more  exclusively  so  in  its  title,  and  in  times 
like  the  present  I  can  have  nothing  to  expect  from  the  book-sellers. 
But  the  circumstances  which  militate  most  against  the  general  interest 
of  the  work  must  have  some  little  tendency  to  impart  to  it  a  particular 
interest  in  the  district  of  country  whose  traditions  it  relates,  and  whose 
scenery  and  general  character  it  purports  to  describe.  If,  like  a  con- 
vex lens,  the  focus  bears  on  only  a  narrow  space,  in  that  narrow  space 


MR.     BLACK    PUBLISHES    HIS     BOOK.  445 

the  rays  must  be  concentrated.  For  a  work  of  this  kind  the  mode 
of  publishing  by  subscription  is  the  only  available  one;  and,  after 
hesitating  long, — for  the  scheme  has  often  been  resorted  to  in  this  part 
of  the  country  by  men  of  an  inferior  cast,  inferior  both  in  sentiment 
and  intellect,  and  I  was  unwilling  it  should  be  thought  that  I  had  any 
thing  in  common  with  them, -^- 1  now  betake  myself  to  it.  I  would  ill- 
like  to  risk  my  respectability  as  a  man  for  the  uncertain  chance  of 
being  a  little  known  as  a  writer;  but  there  is  surely  nothing  mean  in 
a  mode  of  publication  which  such  men  as  Pope  and  Cowper  and  Burns 
have  had  recourse  to.  The  meanness  must  consist  not  abstractedly  in 
the  scheme  itself,  but,  when  the  work  chances  to  be  a  worthless  one, 
in  the  inveigling  the  public  into  what  must  be  regarded  as  an  unfair 
bargain.  I  have  no  eye  to  pecuniary  advantage.  My  hopes  and  fears 
are  those  of  the  literary  aspirant  only ;  and,  little  known  either  as  a 
man  or  a  writer,  my  eye  naturally  turns  to  one  whose  favorable  opin- 
ion, holding  as  he  does  so  high  a  place  in  society  and  letters,  would 
obtain  for  me  the  suffrages  of  the  class  best  able  to  forward  my  little 
plan." 

The  disappointment  experienced  by  Miller  in  procuring  the  publi- 
cation of  his  book  was  confined  to  his  attempts  to  induce  a  book- 
seller to  undertake  the  risk  of  issuing  it.  No  sooner  did  he  adopt  the 
plan  of  subscription  than  he  met  with  eijcouragement  and  aid  on  all 
hands.  Without  any  conscious  effort,  he  had  succeeded  in  inspiring 
every  one  who  knew  him  with  confidence,  and  those  who  knew  him 
well  were  not  only  confident  of  his  future,  and  proud  of  his  abilities, 
but  bound  to  him  by  strong  personal  attachment.  He  had  shown 
himself  friendly,  and  he  had  found  friends  who  took  delight  in  serv- 
ing him. 

At  last  Mr.  Black  agreed  to  publish  on  terms  which,  under 
the  circumstances,  must  be  pronounced  generous.  Miller  received 
four  hundred  copies  for  his  subscribers  at  cost  price,  and,  in  the  event 
of  profit  being  realized  on  the  sale  of  the  remainder  of  an  edition  of 
one  thousand  two  .hundred  and  fifty  copies,  was  to  share  it  with  Mr. 
Black.  The  selling  price  was  fixed  at  seven  shillings  and  sixpence. 
On  these  terms,  Miller  would  clear  about  sixty  pounds,  even  if  the 
unsubscribed  copies  should  not  sell.  These  terms  were  not  arranged 
until  after  Mr.  Black  had  met  Miller  in  Edinburgh,  and  it  is  evi- 
dent that  he  also  had  learned  to  believe  that  the  Cromarty  mason, 
just  developing  into  a  bank  clerk,  was  a  man  with  a  future. 

In  the  spring  of  1835,  then,  the  book  was  in  the  hands  of  the 
subscribers,  and  congratulations  poured  in  upon  Miller.  He  was  in  a 
mood  of  quiet  satisfaction,  wholly  unimpassioned,  nay,  he  was  not 
without  anxiety  as  to  the  loss  which  might  be  incurred  by  Mr.  Black ; 
his  friends  were  joyful,  cordial,  exultant.  Here  is  a  heart-warming 
letter  from  Mr.  Carruthers: — 


446  HUGH     MILLER. 

"INVERNESS,  April  17,  1835. 

"  Many  thanks  for  your  bonny  little  book.  It  was  delivered  to 
me  yesterday  evening  about  six  o'clock,  and  I  went  through  fully 
three-fourths  of  it  before  going  to  bed.  Depend  upon  it,  my  dear 
fellow,  you  have  made  a  hit  this  time.  I  don't  say  that  the  Legends 
will  lift  you  into  high  popularity  with  all  your  robes  and  singing  gar- 
lands just  at  once.  Your  fame  will  not  come  rushing  on  you  like  a 
spate.  But  the  book  will  have  a  steady  general  sale,  and  will  lay  the 
foundation  of  a  permanent  literary  reputation,  destined,  I  trust,  to  go 
on  increasing,  and  to  be  crowned  with  many  honors. 

"  You  are  right  in  your  remark  about  there  being  rather  too  much 
dissertation,  especially  in  the  first  two  or  three  chapters.  This  surplus, 
like  that  of  the  Irish  Church,  would  have,  perhaps,  been  better  ap- 
propriated to  other  purposes;  yet  one  soon  becomes  reconciled  to  it 
or  ceases  to  consider  it  unnatural.  I  think  you  lack  dramatic  power, 
at  least,  your  sketches  of  character  struck  me  as  inferior  to  the  descrip- 
tive and  moralizing  passages.  I  should,  however,  except  honest  Don- 
ald Miller,  who  is  equal  to  Washington  Irving's  happiest  creations. 
The  great  charm  of  the  book  is,  that  it  is  full  of  original  matter, — 
not  concocted  from  other  works,  though  you  have  much  curious  read- 
ing, too,  but  fresh  and  flowing,  full  of  truth  and  nature.  Taste,  you 
know,  is  a  plant  of  very  slo^v  growth,  yet  you  have  already  outstrip- 
ped our  friend  Allan  Cunningham  in  this  respect.  Allan  had  better 
opportunities  than  you  in  his  early  days.  His  father  had  an  excellent 
library,  was  an  intelligent  man,  and  mixed  with  intelligent  people. 
Nay,  the  poet  himself  was  turned  of  thirty,  had  been  a  reporter  for  the 
London  press,  and  was  almost  necessarily  well  versed  in  critical  lore, 
before  he  tried  his  hand  at  prose.  Yet  even  his  last  work,  his  Life  of 
Burns,  is  full  of  sins  against  right  taste  and  delicacy  of  feeling.  But,  af- 
ter all,  your  solitude  and  seclusion  were  your  best  teacher.  We  may 
wonder  how  you  got  your  style, — so  pure  and  vigorous ;  but  it  was 
your  lonely  communings  with  nature  that  fixed  the  matter  in  your 
mind,  and  gave  it  room  to  grow.  You  studied  deeply  and  minutely 
all  you  heard,  read,  and  saw,  and  thus  came  to  your  task  fraught  with 
thoughts,  feeling,  and  knowledge,  pondered  over  daily  for  years,  and 
molded  into  perfect  shapes.  Your  imagination  had  merely  to  supply 
a  coping  for  this  depository.  But  I  am  getting  too  dissertative  myself. 
If  the  'Edinburgh  Review'  is  at  your  command,  turn  to  one  of  the 
early  volumes  for  a  review  of  '  Cromek's  Reliques,'  and  you  will  find 
some  excellent  observations  of  Jeffrey,  on  the  peculiar  position  of 
Burns  in  his  youth.  Situation  is  as  necessary  for  the  proper  growth 
of  genius  as  of  forest-trees;  and  I  can  not  help  thinking,  my  dear 
friend,  that  though  your  early  lot  has  been  hard,  it  has  been  favorable 
for  the  development  of  your  mental  power. 

"  It  will  be  your  own  fault  if  you  do  not  sail  with  full  and  pros- 
perous gale.  Your  next  appearance  will  be  looked  forward  to  with 


SENDS  A  COPY  TO  MR.  CHAMBERS.         447 

interest,  and  will  secure  you  good  terms  with  your  book-seller.  Pub- 
lishers are  a  fraternity  wise  in  their  generation,  and  I  really  think  they 
will  be  casting  out  nets  for  you  hereafter.  I  hope  you  will  go  on 
writing  and  accumulating  materials.  You  speak  of  White's  '  Selborne' 
as  a  sort  of  model.  Your  work  resembles  Crabbe's  'Borough,'  and 
his  general  style,  much  more  closely.  The  same  faithful  and  minute 
painting  of  humble  objects;  the  same  love  of  the  sea  and  all  pertain- 
ing to  it, — fishes,  men,  and  marine  scenery.  Of  course  the  characters 
are  different,  being  modified  by  national  and  local  circumstances. 
We  of  Scotland  have  the  advantage  in  point  of  morality  and  staid 
demeanor.  But  Crabbe's  poachers  and  navigators,  with  their  strong, 
unbridled  passions,  are  perhaps  better  fitted  for  poetry.  What  do 
you  say  to  a  series  of  sketches  in  verse  of  your  Cromarty  worthies, 
their  characters,  passions,  and  adventures?  Of  this,  and  fifty  other 
subjects,  I  shall  hear  you  speak,  I  hope,  soon.  When  the  sun  gets 
warmer,  and  spring  is  leading  (as  Wordsworth  finely  says)  her  earliest 
green  along  the  leaves,  I  shall  steal  away  some  Friday1  or  Saturday, 
and  ruralize  with  you  on  the  hill-side  over  the  bay.  I  hope  sincerely 
that  Wilson  will  shine  on  you  with  one  of  his  long,  laudatory,  imag- 
inative articles  in  'Blackwood.'  Adam  Black  will  take  every  means 
of  giving  you  publicity.  But  I  see  no  fear  of  your  success,  so  that 
the  pushing  of  the  trade  will  be  the  less  necessary.  I  send  you  a 
capital  review  from  the  'Spectator,'  which  you  may  not  have  seen. 
Tell  me,  from  time  to  time,  how  you  get  on,  and  how  the  work  goes 
off." 

Miller  sent  at  this  time  a  copy  of  his  book  of  poems  to  Mr.  Rob- 
ert Chambers,  accompanying  it  with  the  following  letter: 

"The  Moray  Frith  has  been  so  blocked  up  this  spring,  by  the 
westerly  winds,  thaf  it  is  only  now  an  opportunity  occurs  of  sending 
you  the  Jacobite  Psalm  which  I  mentioned  to  you  when  in  Edinburgh. 
It  is  by  no  means  a  very  polished  composition,  but  the  writer  was 
evidently  in  earnest;  and  in  the  closing  stanzas  there  is  an  energy  and 
power,  united  to  much  simplicity,  which  he  must  have  owed  rather  to 
his  excited  feelings  as  a  Scotchman  and  a  Jacobite,  than  to  his  art 
as  a  poet.  It  has  struck  me  as  a  curious  fact,  and  one  which  I  do 
not  remember  to  have  seen  noticed,  that  almost  all  our  modern  Jaco- 
bites are  staunch  Whigs.  •  Burns  was  a  representative  of  the  class,  and 
I  think  I  see  from  the  verses  of  the  poor  Jacobite  Psalmist,  that  had 
he  flourished  ninety  years  later  he  would  have  been  a  Whig  too. 

"  Oblige  me  by  accepting  the  accompanying  volume.  It  contains, 
as  you  will  find,  a  good  many  heavy  pieces,  and  abounds  in  all  the 
faults  incident  to  juvenile  productions,  and  to  those  of  the  imperfectly 
taught;  but  you  may  here  and  there  meet  in  it  with  something  to 

amuse  you My  forthcoming  volume,  which  I  trust  I 

shall  be  able  to  send  you  in  a  few  weeks,  will,  I  hope,  better  deserve 
your  perusal.  And  yet  I  am  aware  it  has  its  heavy  pieces,  too, — dan- 
gerous-looking sloughs  of  dissertation,  in  which  I  well-nigh  lost  my- 


448  HUGH     MILLER. 

self,  and  in  which  I  shall  run  no  small   risk  of  losing  my  readers. 

i) 

To  this  there  came,  in  due  course,  the  following  reply: 

"ANNE  STREET,  EDINBURGH,  March  31,  1835. 

"  I  have  just  received  your  letter  of  the  ipth  inst.,  with  the  accom- 
panying volume,  of  which  I  have  already  read  a  considerable  portion. 
It  is  fortunate  it  arrived  to-day,  as  I  was  about  to  write  for  another 
purpose  than  the  acknowledgment  of  your  letter ;  and  it  is  better  to 
kill  two  birds  with  one  stone  than  a  single  one  only.  My  object  was 
to  mention  that  I  have  read  your  history  of  Cromarty  all  to  the  last 
two  chapters,  being,  perhaps,  the  fourth  or  fifth  work  of  which  I  have 
read  so  much  of  these  half  dozen  years.  For  a  copy  which  has  been 
sent  to  me,  apparently  by  your  order,  I  beg  to  thank  you,  but  I  had 
previously  bought  one,  and  was  by  that  time  far  on  in  the  perusal  of 
it.  Further,  I  have  put  an  extract  from  it  into  our  printer's  hands, 
with  a  preliminary  notice,  in  which  I  express  my  opinion  of  it;  three 
weeks,  however,  must  elapse  before  this  can  appear.  I  think  you  will 
not  be  displeased  with  the  terms  in  which  I  have  spoken  of  the  vol- 
ume and  its  author;  at  least,  I  am  very  sure  that  the  notice  is  meant 
for  the  benefit  of  both.  I  dwell  chiefly  on  the  value  which  I  conceive 
the  book  to  have,  as  an  example  of  the  operations  of  a  mind  of  deep 
reflection  and  sensibility,  reared  amidst  humble  scenes  and  circum- 
stances, imperfectly  educated,  and  in  want  of  all  appropriate  material 
to  act  upon.  Yet,  while  acknowledging  that  the  reflection  and  the 
sensibility  are  often  misspent,  I  take  care  to  convey  the  impression 
that  the  book  is  a  good  one  of  the  kind  it  professes  to  belong  to, 
and  calculated  to  afford  much  amusement  to  the  reader,  for  I  believe 
it  would  not  be  bought  as  a  '  psychological  curiosity '  only.  Between 
ourselves,  I  think  it  would  have  been  better  to  retrench  a  good  deal 
of  the  moralizing  in  the  early  chapters.  I  assure  you,  though  not  un- 
accustomed to  philosophical  reading,  I  find  your  thinking  pretty  hard 
and  solid ;  it  requires  a  little  more  time  and  pains  to  follow  you  than 
the  most  of  us  care  to  expend  on  a  book  of  what  we  suppose  light 
reading.  The  history  of  Cromarty  ! — you  would  have  made  a  history 
of  John  o*  Groat's  house  philosophical,  I  believe.  Yours  seems  to 
be  the  true  sort  of  mind  to  make  minnows  talk  like  whales.  Such 
powers  are  not  appropriate  to  topographical  narration,  or  the  chroni- 
cling of  old  stories.  A  playful  fancy  and  a  power  of  whimsical  allu- 
sion answer  these  walks  of  literature  much  better.  You  are  like  a 
man  assorting  needles  with  a  gauntlet.  I  must  also  mention  to  your- 
self that  I  have  found  a  few  little  matters  in  your  volume  which  can 
not  be  traditionary;  such,  for  instance,  as  a  George's  Square  in  Edin- 
burgh, some  fifteen  years  before  the  actual  erection  of  the  place  bear- 
ing that  name ;  the  numbering  of  houses,  too,  when  there  were  no 
numbers;  and  the  coming  by  the  head  of  Leith  Walk  from  Queens- 
ferry  to  Edinburgh.  You  speak  of  dates  of  the  thirteenth  and  four- 


MR.     CHAMBERSS    LETTER. 


449 


teenth  centuries  on  the  front  of  Urquhart  Castle,  in  connection  with 
architectural  styles,  I  am  sure  not  much  earlier  than  the  seventeenth, 
and  when  I  am  equally  sure  that  no  dates  were  carved  on  houses  in 
Scotland, — at  least,  far  as  I  have  ridden,  and  much  as  I  have  seen  in 
my  native  country,  I  never  saw  a  date  upon  a  building  earlier  than  the 
sixteenth  century.  This  shows  that  you  fill  up  and  round  off;  and 
why  not  ?  but  only  such  matters  must  be  managed  discreetly. 

"  I  am  much  obliged  by  the  Jacobite  Psalm,  which  is  certainly  much 
above  the  tame  poetry  of  the  period.  Your  remark  about  the  Jaco- 
bites has  often  struck  myself.  I  account  for  their  becoming  Liberals 
in  after-times,  by  the  fact  of  Jacobitism  at  length  becoming  identified 
with  a  patriotic  indignation  at  the  corrupt  government  of  the  early 
Brunswick  sovereigns,  in  which  last  character  it  must  have  very  readily 
associated  with  modern  Liberalism.  . 

_"  I  had  thought  of  it  as  a  duty  to  endeavor  to  give  you  some  hints 
as  to  your  future  conduct  in  literature,  such  as  a  metropolitan  may 
be  sometimes  able  to  give  to  a  provincial.  But  now  that  I  see  your 
volume,  I  deem  it  needless  to  try.  A  mind  such  as  you  have  the  for- 
tune to  possess  can  hardly  ever  or  anywhere  be  at  a  loss.  I  could 
hope,  however,  that  you  may  keep  in  view  the  advantage,  for  your 
own  happiness,  of  advancing  into  some  more  conspicuous  situation  in 
life,  where  the  powers  and  tendencies  of  your  mind  may  find  more 
fitting  scope  and  exercise  than  at  present.  For  the  attainment  of  such 
an  end,  great  worldly  prudence,  and  what  people  are  now  universally 
calling  tact,  are  as  essentially  necessary  as  the  bare  possession  of  tal- 
ent ;  and  here  I  hope  you  will  never  be  found  wanting.  With  the 
best  wishes  for  your  happiness,  under  whatever  circumstances,  I  re- 
main, etc." 

The  Jacobite  Psalm,  referred  to  by  Mr.  Chambers,  is  what  Miller 
describes  as  "  a  curious  version  of  the  one  hundred  and  thirty-seventh 
Psalm,  the  production  of  some  unfortunate  Jacobite." 

"My  legendary  volume,"  says  Miller  in  the  "Schools  and  School- 
masters," "was,  with  a  few  exceptions,  very  favorably  received  by  the 
critics.  Leigh  Hunt  gave  it  a  kind  and  genial  notice  in  his  'Journal ;' 
it  was  characterized  by  Robert  Chambers  not  less  favorably  in  his; 
and  Dr.  Hetherington,  the  future  historian  of  the  Church  of  Scot- 
land and  of  the  Westminster  Assembly  of  Divines,  at  that  time  a 
licentiate  of  the  Church,  made  it  the  subject  of  an  elaborate  and 
very  friendly  critique  in  the  'Presbyterian  Review.'"  We  have 
already  referred 'to  the  remark  on  its  style  made  by  Baron  Hume,  and 
the  eager  delight  of  Miller  at  being  recognized  as  a  worthy  successor 
of  the  Addisons  and  Goldsmiths,  at  whose  feet  he  had  loved  to  sit. 
The  book  "attained  no  great  popularity;"  but  it  crept  gradually  into 
circulation,  and  moved  off  "considerably  better  in  its  later  editions 
than  it  did  on  its  first  appearance." 

These  words  are  likely  to  prove  true  for  an  indefinite  period.     This 
is  one  of  those  books  which  has  to  find  its  readers,  but  which,  when 
29 


450  HUGH     MILLER. 

it  has  found,  retains  them  by  a  charm  like  that  of  old  friendship  and 
of  old  wine.  There  is  in  it  an  aroma  of  racy  thought  and  natural 
home-bred  feeling.  We  may  call  it  a  bit  of  genuine  historical  litera- 
ture, for  it  reproduces  with  vivid  fajthfulness  the  aspect  of  human 
life  in  one  particular  corner  of  the  planet.  The  actual  fields  and 
waters,  crags  and  woods,  green  dells  and  bleak  moors,  gray  castles 
and  thatched  cottages,  wimpling  burns,  and  broomy  braes,  and  brown 
sea-shores,  beside  which  Miller  has  played  since  childhood,  form  the 
scenery  of  the  drama;  and,  amid  these,  life  goes  masquerading  in  its 
coat  of  many  colors, — life,  with  its  fitful  changes  and  abrupt  contrasts, 
its  heart-wrung  tears  and  grotesque  grins,  its  broken-winged  sublimi- 
ties and  grandeurs  tempered  by  absurdity;  its  queer  jumble  of  tragedy 
and  comedy,  and  merry  scorn  of  all  the  unities.  The  writing  is, 
perhaps,  too  careful  for  full  display  of  strength.  Miller  lingered  for 
many  years  over  his  stories,  copying  and  recopying, — here  polishing 
down  a  roughness,  there  throwing  in  a  touch  of  color;  now  rounding 
a  sentence  with  more  subtle  curve,  now  drawing  out  a  similitude  with 
more  elaborate  precision,  grudging  no  labor  and  no  time.  In  this 
kind  of  work  his  arm  could  not  show  its  sweep  and  power.  In  much 
of  his  subsequent  writing  there  is  a  rapid  force,  a  rhythmic  energy, 
which  we  do  not  find  in  the  Addisonian  periods  of  his  first  prose 
book.  But  in  quiet,  delicately  wrought  perfection;  in  beauty  fine  as 
the  tints  of  a  shell,  as  the  veining  of  a  gem,  as  the  light  and  shade 
of  a  cameo, — Miller  never  surpassed,  if  he  ever  equaled,  some  parts 
of  this  volume.  The  hint  of  Mr.  Carruthers  as  to  its  defect  in  dra- 
matic power  is  not  without  pertinency  and  justice.  Hugh  had  trained 
himself  to  narrative,  and  was  comparatively  unskilled  in  dialogue  ; 
but  the  essential  element  in  dramatic  power,  the  ability  to  realize 
human  character  and  feeling  in  different  situations,  is  certainly  dis- 
played in  the  "Scenes  and  Legends."  The  characters  live.  We 
see  them;  occasionally  we  hear  them,  and  what  they  say  is  character- 
istic; it  is  mainly  the  dramatic  form,  not  the  dramatic  substance, 
that  is  wanting. 

To  illustrate  the  careful  finish  of  this  book,  it  would  be  easy  to  find 
a  number  of  passages,  exquisite  descriptions  of  landscape,  specially 
felicitous  similitudes,  apt  and  eloquent  reflections;  but  to  select  from 
these  one  or  two  brief  enough  for  quotation,  and  decisively  the  best 
to  be  had,  would  be  exceedingly  difficult.  We  therefore  refer  the 
reader  to  the  work  itself. 

It  is,  perhaps,  worthy  of  mention  that,  in  his  researches  into  the 
history  of  his  native  district  and  of  its  remarkable  men,  he  had  come 
upon  evidence  that  he  had  the  blood  of  Sir  Thomas  Urquhart,  of 
Cromarty,  in  his  veins.  Far  too  proudly  contemptuous  of  such  a 
title  to  distinction  to  specify  the  fact  in  his  published  writings,  he 
nevertheless  referred  to  it,  when  the  matter  turned  up  in  conversation, 
as  incontrovertible.  The  chapter  devoted  to  Sir  Thomas  in  the 
"Scenes  and  Legends"  describes  him  as  a  man  of  genius  and  learn- 


LETTER    TO     MISSDUNBAR.  451 

ing,  but   fantastic,  speculative,  and  eccentric  in  the  highest   degree. 
He  flourished  in  the  times  of  the  Covenant  and  Commonwealth. 

DEATH    OF  MISS   DUNBAR. 

During  those  months  which  Miller  passed  in  Linlithgow,  his  friend, 
Miss  Dunbar,  lay  on  her  death-bed,  slowly  sinking  under  intolerable 
agonies.  She  retained  her  faculties  unimpaired,  and  in  the  intervals 
of  pain  manifested  that  gracious  interest  in  all  that  concerned  her 
friends,  which  characterized  her  in  health.  Her  malady  was  known 
to  be  incurable,  but  it  does  not  appear  that  Miller  was-  aware  of 
any  reason  for  apprehending  that  it  would  soon  have  a  fatal  termin- 
ation. He  continued,  therefore,  to  write  to  her  in  the  light,  dis- 
cursive manner  he  had  previously  adopted. 

"  LINLITHGOW. 

"  I  must  try  to  coin  time  (the  phrase  is  poor  Henry  Kirke  White's, 
who  killed  himself  in  the  process),  in  which  to  show  you  that  the 
hurry  of  my  new  occupation  is  as  unable  to  dissipate  the  recollection 
of  your  kindness  as  the  rougher  fatigues  of  my  old  one.  The  more  I 
see  of  life  the  more  I  am  convinced  that  '  it  is  not  in  man  that  walk- 
eth  to  direct  his  steps.'  Here  am  I  in  Linlithgow,  acquiring  that 
degree  of  skill  in  business  matters  that  may  fit  me  for  a  bank  ac- 
countant. Six  weeks  ago  I  had  as  much  thought — nay,  more — of 
emigrating  to  the  wilds  of  America. 

"  I  would  much  rather  have  spent  in  Edinburgh  the  few  weeks  I 
have  to  pass  in  this  part  of  the  country  than  here ;  but  it  was  neces- 
sary, in  order  to  acquire  the  skill  of  the  branch-accountant,  that  I 
should  remove  to  a  branch  bank;  and,  as  I  take  care  never  to  quar- 
rel with  necessity,  I  get  on  pretty  well.  .  .  ." 

Miss  Dunbar  writes  in  reply,  under  date  of  January  i,  1835,  in 
which  she  says : 

"It  is  now  two  o'clock,  and  I  am  but  just  up  and  dressed,  and 
this  is  my  first  occupation.  I  heard  of  your  appointment  from  the 
newspaper,  and  of  your  having  gone  to  Edinburgh,  from  an  acquaint- 
ance. Pardon  me,  my  dear  friend,  some  sad  thoughts — I  may  even 
call  them  bitter  ones — I  will  own  I  had,  amid  all  the  pleasure  which 
both  circumstances  afforded  me.  I  have  always  borne  much  good- 
will to  my  acquaintance  and  friends  in  general ;  there  are  few  whom 
I  absolutely  dislike,  and  not  a  few  whom  I  really  like  much;  but 
there  was  always  one  who  more  particularly  occupied  my  heart,  and 
whom  I  loved  more  than  all  the  rest  put  together,  and  for  the  last 
five  years  you  have  been  that  one ;  and  now  that  I  have  so  short  a 
time  to  be  here,  I  can  have  no  hope  of  ever  again  seeing  you.  But 
I  assure  you  the  sad,  bitter  thoughts  were  but  passing  ones ;  and  your 
letter  gave  me  entire  pleasure. 

"There  is  scarcely  any  one  I  am  sorry  to  part  with- but  you.     God 


45  2  HUGHMILLER. 

knows  how  fervently  I  wish  you  life  and  happiness,  and  your  ad- 
vancement in  public  favor.  I  consider  your  late  appointment  as  very 
respectable,  and  as  procured  for  you  in  the  most  agreeable  and  deli- 
cate manner,  but  can  not  help  regarding  your  literary  pursuits  as  the 
main  business  of  your  life.  When,  probably,  will  your  book  be  out? 
or  is  it  actually  gone  to  press?  Many  a  time  I  have  wondered  to 
myself  if  ever  I  shall  see  it,  and  have  sometimes  hopes  that  I  may  ; 
but  were  I  to  be  guided  by  my  present  feelings  of  pain  and  discom- 
fort, I  should  say  the  thing  is  not  very  likely.  .  .  .  You  are  not 
aware  of  Lord  Medwyn's  high  appreciation  of  your  genius.  It  was 
to  his  brother,  Mr.  John  Forbes,  that  Major  Gumming  Bruce  lately 
transmitted  one  of  your  letters  and  extracts  from  your  'Traditional 
History,'  given  him  by  the  Messrs.  Anderson,  in  four  franked  covers. 
The  major  had  sent  to  me,  as  a  thing  of  course,  for  your  address, 
that  Mr.  Forbes  might  have  waited  On  you;  but  I  could  give  him  no 

clue " 

Before  writing  the  next  letter,  Miller  heard  that  Miss  Dunbar 
had  just  lost  by  death  two  near  relatives  to  whom  she  was  much  at- 
tached. The  thought  of  her  bereavement  recalled  to  him  his  own 
sorrow  for  departed  friends,  and  in  pensive  mood,  tenderly  sym- 
pathetic, deeply  affectionate,  he  took  pen  in  hand,  and  described  to 
her  his  experience  of  grief.  If  we  would  understand  the  enthusiasm 
of  love  with  which  all  who  knew  Hugh  Miller  well  regarded  him, 
we  ought  to  consider  carefully  the  heart-delineation  of  this  letter : 

"  CROMARTY,  March,  1835. 

"Intelligence  of  your  sad  bereavement  reached  me  through  the 
medium  of  the  newspapers.  I  can  not  express  what  I  felt.  I 
knew  that  your  cup  was  full  before, — full  to  the  brim  ;  but  I  saw 
that,  regarding  it  as  mingled  by  your  Father,  you  were  resigned 
to  drink.  Now,  however,  a  new  ingredient  has  been  added, — an  in- 
gredient bitterer,  perhaps,  to  a  generous  mind  than  any  of  the  others. 
To  days  of  languor  and  nights  of  suffering,  torn  affections  and 
blighted  hopes  have  been  added;  and  those  relatives  to  whom  the 
overcharged  heart  naturally  turns  for  solace  and  sympathy  are  equally 
involved  in  misfortune.  When  we  sit  during  the  day  in  a  darkened 
chamber,  we  have  but  to  throw  open  a  casement  and  the  light  comes 
pouring  in  ;  but  it  is  not  so  during  the  night,  when  there  is  no  light 
to  enter.  You  were  before  sitting  in  the  shade, — not,  however,  in  so 
deep  a  recess  but  that  at  times  a  ray  reached  you  from  without ;  but  I 
now  feel  that  your  sad  bereavement  must  have  converted  your  day 
into  night;  that  you  are  sitting  in  darkness,  and  that  an  atmosphere 
of  darkness  surrounds  you. 

"I  am  not  unacquainted  with  grief.  There  are  friends  separated 
from  me  by  the  wide,  dark,  impassable  gulf,  whom  I  can  not  think 
of  even  yet  without  feeling  my  heart  swell.  .  .  .  Grief,  my  dear 
madam,  is  an  idolater.  It  first  deifies,  and  then  worships.  It  has  a 


ANOTHER    LETTER     TO     MISS     DUNBAR.  453 

strange  power,  too,  of  laying  hold  of  the  moral  sense,  so  that  it  be- 
comes a  matter  of  consequence  with  us  to  deny  ourselves  all  pleasure, 
and  to  reject  all  comfort,  in  what  we  deem  justice  to  the  deceased. 
There  is  something  wonderful  in  the  feeling  I  have  not  yet  seen  ex- 
plained. It  seems  to  have  its  seat  deep  in  the  mysterious  parts  of 
our  nature,  and  constitutes  a  tie  to  connect,  as  it  were,  the  living  with 
the  dead.  No  man  who  truly  deserves  the  name  can  desire  to  die 
wholly  unlamented ;  and  the  regret  which  the  heart  claims  for  itself, 
it  willingly — oh,  how  willingly! — renders  to  another.  We  weep  not 
for  ourselves,  but  in  justice  to  the  lost,  and  even  after  exhausted  na- 
ture can  not  yield  another  tear,  there  is  a  conscience  in  us  that  chides 
us  for  having  sorrowed  so  little.  I  need  not  ask  you  if  you  have  ex- 
perienced this  feeling ;  no  heart  was  ever  truly  sorrowful  without  the 
experience  of  it.  It  is  a  sentiment  of  our  nature  that  lies  contiguous, 
if  I  may  so  express  myself,  to  that  noble  sentiment  which  leads  us, 
independent  of  our  reasonings,  to  feel  that  there  is  a  hereafter.  For 
do  we  not  think  of  the  dead  to  whom  we  owe  so  many  tears,  as  a 
being  who  exists;  and  could  we  owe  any  thing  to  either  a  heap  of 
dust  or  a  mere  recollection  ?  It  may  be  well,  however,  to  remind 
you  that  there  is  a  time  when  the  claims  of  this  moral  sense  should 
be  resisted.  It  continues  to  urge  that  tribute  be  given  to  the  dead 
long  after  the  tribute  is  fully  paid,  and  spurs  on  exhausted  nature  to 
fresh  sorrows,  when  the  voice  of  duty  and  the  prostration  of  the  en- 
ergies call  it  to  repose.  .  .  -,  . 

"  I  shall  not  urge  with  you  the  commoner  topics  of  consolation;  I 
know  the  heart  will  not  listen  even  when  the  judgment  approves. 
Grief  is  a  strange  thing;  it  is  both  deaf  and  blind.  Where  could  it 
be  more  perfectly  pure  from  every  mixture  of  evil  and  folly  than  in 
the  breast  of  our  Savior?  and  yet  even  in  him  we  see  it  finding  vent 
in -a  flood  of  tears,  when  he  must  have  known  that  he  whom  he 
mourned  as  dead  was  to  step  out  before  him  a  living  man.  Can  I, 
then,  hope  to  dissipate  your  sorrow?  Can  I  urge  with  you  any  argu- 
ment of  consolation  equally  powerful  with  the  belief  which  he  enter- 
tained? or,  were  I  possessed  of  some  such  impossible  argument, 
could  I  hope  that  it  would  have  more  influence  with  you  than  that  be- 
lief had  with  him  ?  He  believed,  and  yet  he  wept.  May  I  not  re- 
mind you,  however,  that  he  who  sorrowed  then  can  sympathize  in  our 
sorrows  now ;  that  he  loved  little  children,  and  declared  that  of  such 
is  the  kingdom  of  heaven ;  and  that  he  has  enjoined  us,  through  his 
servant,  not  to  sorrow  at  those  who  have  no  hope?" 

At  about  the  same  time,  perhaps  in  the  very  hour,  when  this  letter 
was  put  into  the  hand  of  Miss  Dunbar,  the  "Scenes  and  Legends," 
for  which  she  had  looked  with  a  solicitude  more  tenderly  intense  than 
that  of  Miller  himself,  reached  Forres.  The  heart  of  the  sweet  and 
gentle  lady  thrilled  once  more  amid  her  anguish  with  a  joy  like  that 
of  a  mother  when  she  knows  that  a  beloved  son,  whose  efforts  she  has 
long  watched,  with  whom  she  has  long  hoped  and  feared,  whose 


454  HUGH    MILLER. 

claim  to  a  place  of  honor  among  men  she  has  never  questioned,  has 
at  last  done  something  which  will  compel  the  world  to  own  that  he  is 
all  she  knows  him  to  be.  Miss  Dunbar  wrote  Miller  the  following 
touching  letter,  probably  the  last  she  ever  penned  : 

"  I  know  you  wish  to  hear  from  me,  and  in  gratifying  you  I  would 
gratify  myself,  for  I  have  much  to  say  to  you,  but,  alas!  the  power 
of  writing  is  past.  My  intervals  of  ease  from  most  excruciating  pain 
are  truly  like  angel  visits ;  and  when  they  do  occur  I  am  in  such  a 
state  of  lowness  and  exhaustion  as  to  be  incapable  of  any  exertion. 
I  am  now  raised  up,  and  supported  in  bed  by  pillows,  while  I  make 
this,  I  fear,  last  effort  to  write  to  you.  .  .  .  What  can  I  do,  but 
throw  myself  on  His  mercy  who  is  the  Sent  of  God  ?  He  is  my  rock, 
my  strength,  my  hope  in  life  and  in  death.  Often  do  I  wish  to  see 
you,  and  to  hear  you  speak  of  the  things  which  pertain  to  eternity. 
I  recollect  the  light  and  comfort  I  derived  from  your  conversation 
last  summer.  .  .  .  But  to  the  Book ;  contrary  to  all  my  anticipa- 
tions, I  have  lived  to  have  it  in  my  hand!  What  shall  I  say  of  it? 
It  would  seem,  from  the  very  little  of  it  I  have  yet  read,  as  if  I  were 
quite  satisfied  with  seeing  and  handling  it.  I  look  into  every  chapter, 
I  glance  over  the  whole,  but  somewhat  childlike,  I  feel  too  happy 
to  read." 

Hugh,  with  no  suspicion  that  the  end  was  near,  had  begun  his 
reply  to  this  letter,  and  finished  two  or  three  pages,  when  he  received 
the  following  notice:  'Torres,  June  30,  1835.  Miss  Dunbar,  of 
Boath,  died  here  last  night  at  half- past  ten  o'clock." 

In  a  letter  written,  a  few  days  subsequently,  to  Sir  Thomas  D. 
Lauder,  Miller  refers  to  Miss  Dunbar  as  follows : 

"  My  kind  friend,  Miss  Dunbar,  of  Boath,  is  dead;  she  died  on  the 
evening  of  Monday,  the  zgi\\  ultimo.  For  the  last  four  years  her  life 
has  been  one  of  much  suffering;  but  she  had  a  youthfulness  of  spirit 
about  her  that  availed  itself  of  every  brief  cessation  from  pain.  She 
had  learned,  too,  to  draw  consolation  and  support  from  the  best  of 
all  sources;  and  so,  her  latter  days,  darkened  as  they  were  by  a 
deadly  and  cruel  disease,  have  not  been  without  their  glimpses  of 
enjoyment.  Her  heart  was  one  of  the  warmest  and  least  selfish  I 
ever  knew.  It  was  not  in  the  power  of  suffering,  or  of  the  near  ap- 
proach of  death,  to  render  her  indifferent  to  even  the  slightest  inter- 
ests or  comforts  of  her  friends.  I  was  employed  in  writing  to  her, 
and  with  all  the  freedom  which  her  goodness  permitted  me,  when 
the  letter  reached  me  which  intimated  her  death.  My  thoughts  were 
so  cast  into  the  conversational  mold  that  I  could  almost  realize  her 
presence ;  and,  had  she  suddenly  expired  before  me,  I  could  not  have 
been  more  affected." 

•  We  must  not  quit  this  episode  in  Hugh  Miller's  life  without  the  re- 
mark that  it  reveals  much  of  what  he  was.  The  sister  of  Sir  Alex- 
ander Dunbar,  Bart.,  of  Boath,  moving  in  the  most  refined  and  culti- 
vated society  of  Scotland,  Miss  Dunbar  was  in  every  sense  a  ladj. 


MILLER     AS     BANK     ACCOUNTANT.  455 

Her  penetration  and  sound  literary  judgment  might  have  convinced 
her  that  Miller  was  a  man  of  genius,  and  led  her  to  ^desire  his 
acquaintance;  but  that  that  acquaintance  should  have  ripened  into 
friendship — nay,  that  she  should  have  signalized  the  journeyman  mason 
as  the  truest  and  dearest  of  all  her  friends — can  be  accounted  for  only 
on  the  supposition  that  there  was  in  him  a  sterling  worth,  a  delicate 
nobleness,  a  beaming  purity  of  soul,  and  dewy  tenderness  of  feeling, 
which  would  have  marked  him  out  in  any  class  of  society  as  one  of 
nature's  gentlemen.  . 

LETTERS   TO   MISS   FRASER,    FINLAY,    AND   DR.    WALDIE. 

On  returning  from  Linlithgow  to  Cromarty,  Miller  addressed  him- 
self with  assiduity  to  his  duties  as  a  bank  accountant.  In  the  course 
of  the  bank's  operations,  a  sum  of  money,  amounting  to  some  hun- 
dreds of  pounds,  was  transmitted  weekly  from  Cromarty  to  Tain,  and 
he  thought  it  necessary  to  act  as  messenger.  He  walked  the  whole 
way  from  the  northern  shore  of  Cromarty  ferry  to  Tain,  and  back ; 
and,  as  part  of  the  road  lay  through  a  deep  wood,  he  provided  him- 
self with  a  brace  of  pistols,  and  traveled  with  them  loaded.  This 
was  the  first  occasion  of  his  using  fire-arms;  and  he  seems  to  have 
never  subsequently,  except,  perhaps,  for  brief  periods,  abandoned  the 
practice.  The  resolute  intensity  of  application  with  which  he  mas- 
tered the  details  of  banking,  and  the  conscientious  caution  with  which 
he  took  the  road,  in  order  to  obviate  mishaps  in  the  transmission  of 
the  money,  may  be  noted  as  characteristic  of  our  man. 

The  change  in  his  circumstances,  when  he  thus  passed  out  of  what 
is  termed  the  working  class,  was  naturally  pleasing  to  his  friends. 
Mr.  Stewart  declared,  with  hearty  satisfaction,  that  he  was  "at  length 
fairly  caught."  For  his  own  part,  he  took  the  matter  with  conspic- 
uous quietness,  betraying  no  consciousness  of  having  risen  in  life,  not 
altering  his  demeanor  by  one  jot  or  tittle,  and,  except  in  his  thoughts 
of  the  future  of  domestic  felicity,  which  was  now  virtually  secure  to 
him,  not  finding  himself  a  happier  man.  After  a  day  spent  in  the 
uncongenial  drudgery  of  running  up  columns  of  figures,  he  did  not 
experience  in  literary  composition  that  delicious  freshness  which  it  had 
formerly  yielded  him.  "  For  the  first  six  months  of  my  new  em- 
ployment," he  says,  "  I  found  myself  unable  to  make  my  old  use  of 
the  leisure  hours  which  I  found  I  could  still  command.  There  was 
nothing  very  intellectual,  in  the  higher  sense  of  the  term,  in  record- 
ing the  bank's  transactions,  or  in  summing  up  columns  of  figures,  or 
in  doing  business  over  the  counter ;  and  yet  the  fatigue  induced  was 
a  fatigue,  not  of  sinew  and  muscle,  but  of  nerve  and  brain,  which, 
if  it  did  not  quite  disqualify  me  for  my  former  intellectual  amuse- 
ments, at  least  greatly  disinclined  me  towards  them,  and  rendered 
me  a  considerably  more  indolent  sort  of  person  than  either  before  or 
since.  It  is  asserted  by  artists  of  discriminating  eye,  that  the  human 


456  HUGH     MILLER. 

hand  bears  an  expression  stamped  upon  it  by  the  general  character  as 
surely  as  the  human  face;  and  I  certainly  used  to  be  struck,  during 
this  transition  period,  by  the  relaxed  and  idle  expression  that  had 
on  the  sudden  been  assumed  by  mine.  And  the  slackened  hands 
represented,  I  too  surely  felt,  a  slackened  mind.  The  unintellectual 
toils  of  the  laboring  man  have  been  occasionally  represented  as  less 
favorable  to  mental  cultivation  than  the  semi-intellectual  employ- 
ments of  that  class  immediately  above  him,  to  which  our  clerks,  shop- 
men, and  humbler  accountants  belong;  but  it  will  be  found  that  exactly 
the  reverse  is  the  case,  and  that,  though  a  certain  conventional  gen- 
tility of  manner  and  appearance  on  the  side  of  the  somewhat  higher 
class  may  serve*  to  conceal  the  fact,  it  is  on  the  part  of  the  laboring 
man  that  the  real  advantage  lies.  The  mercantile  accountant,  or 
law-clerk,  bent  over  his  desk,  his  faculties  concentrated  on  his  columns 
of  figures,  or  on  the  pages  which  he  has  been  carefully  engrossing, 
and  unable  to  proceed  one  step  in  his  work  without  devoting  to  it 
all  his  attention,  is  in  greatly  less  favorable  circumstances  than  the 
plow-man  or  operative  mechanic,  whose  mind  is  free  though  his 
body  labors,  and  who  thus  finds  in  the  very  rudeness  of  his  employ- 
ment a  compensation  for  its  humble  and  laborious  character.  And  it 
will  be  found  that  the  humbler  of  the  two  classes  is  much  more  largely 
represented  in  our  literature  than  the  class  by  one  degree  less  humble. 
Ranged  against  the  poor  clerk  of  Nottingham,  Henry  Kirke  White, 
and  the  still  more  hapless  Edinburgh  engrossing  clerk,  Robert  Fer- 
guson, with  a  very  few  others,  we  find  in  our  literature  a  numerous 
and  vigorous  phalanx  composed  of  men  such  as  the  Ayrshire  Plow- 
man, the  Ettrick  Shepherd,  the  Fifeshire  Foresters,  the  sailors  Dam- 
pier  and  Falconer,  Bunyan,  Bloomfield,  Ramsay,  Tannahill,  Alex- 
ander Wilson,  John  Clare,  Allan  Cunningham,  and  Ebenezer  Elliot. 
And  I  was  taught  at  this  time  to  recognize  the  simple  principle  on 
which  the  greater  advantages  lie  on  the  side  of  the  humbler  class." 
The  unfavorable  influence  of  his  new  occupation  on  his  literary  ac- 
tivity proved  to  be  of  a  temporary  nature.  "Gradually,"  he  proceeds, 
"I  became  more  inured  to  a  sedentary  life,  my  mind  recovered  its 
spring,  and  my  old  ability  returned  of  employing  my  leisure  hours, 
as  before,  in  intellectual  exertion." 

Once  more,  therefore,  we  niay  pronounce  him  happy.  A  time 
which,  to  him,  seemed  doubtless  long,  was  still  to  elapse  before  his 
union  with  Miss  Fraser,  but  the  engagement  was  now  fully  counte- 
nanced by  her  mother,  and  the  intercourse  of  the  lovers  was  constant 
and  unconstrained.  William  Ross  was  in  his  grave ;  John  Swanson 
was  about  to  leave  the  district ;  his  friendship  with  Miss  Dunbar  had 
become  a  tender  and  exalting  reminiscence.  He  clung  all  the  more 
closely  to  her  who  was  yet  left  to  him,  in  whom  he  found  the  affec- 
tion of  Ross,  the  mental  stimulus  of  Swanson,  the  sympathy  of  Miss 
Dunbar,  and  who  was  dearer  to  him  than  them  all.  As  Miss  Fraser 
resided  almost  uninterruptedly  in  Cromarty,  there  is  not  much  in  the 


AN     ADVENTURE  —  HIS     LOOKS.  457 

way  of  correspondence  between  her  and  Hugh  to  throw  light  upon 
their  intercourse  at  this  period ;  but  we  have  one  or  two  letters, 
through  which,  as  through  "luminous  windows,"  we  can  see  into  the 
"happy  palace"  of  love  and  friendship  in  which  these  two  abode. 
Here  is  a  note  from  the  lady: 

"  My  own  Hugh,  I  am  tired,  tired  of  being  away  from  you.  Alas  ! 
you  have  no  idea  of  the  frivolous  bondage  to  which  sex  and  fashion 
subject  us.  I  do  nothing  all  day,  and  hear  nothing,  yet  I  am 
obliged  to  take  the  time  from  sleep  which  I  devote  to  you.  I  have 
found  the  young  captain  whom  I  threatened  you  with  much  hand- 
somer than  I  described  him  to  you,  but  a  thousand  times  more  insipid: 
Why,  when  I  look  at  him,  do  I  always  think  of  you?  or  why  do  his 
black,  bright  eyes,  that  would  be  fine  had  they  meaning,  always  re- 
mind me  of  those  gentle  blue  ones  which  I  have  so  often  seen  melt 
with  benevolence  and  a  chastened  tenderness?  Why  are  mankind 
such  slaves  of  appearances  as  to  admire  the  casket  and  neglect  the 
gem  ?  It  is  degradation  to  the  dignity  of  thought  and  sentiment  to 
compare  it  with  a  mere  beauty  of  form  or  color.  Good-by. 

"It  is  morning,  but  I  am  not  beside  you  on  the  leafy  hill,  with 
the  blue  water  shimmering  at  our  feet.  When  shall  we  be  there 
again?" 

When  this  letter  reached  Cromarty,  Hugh  was  in  Tain,  but  he  evi- 
dently lost  no  time  in  replying  to  it  on  his  return. 

"  CROMARTY,  July,  1835. 

"  I  need  not  tell  you  at  this  time  of  day  how  much  it  is  in  your  power 
to  make  me  happy,  and  how  thoroughly  my  very  existence  seems  to 
be  bound  up  in  yours.  I  have  but  one  solace  in  your  absence,  my 
Lydia, — that  one  thought  of  your  return. 

"  There  crossed  with  me  in  the  ferry-boat  a  little  ragged  gypsy 
boy,  the  most  strongly  marked  by  the  peculiar  traits  of  his  tribe  I 
almost  ever  saw.  Have  you  ever  observed  the  form  of  the  true  gypsy 
head  ?  I  am  much  mistaken  if  it  be  not  the  very  type  of  the  Hindoo. 
In  the  line  of  the  nose  the  forehead  is  perfectly  perpendicular,  indi- 
cating, I  should  think,  a  large  development  of  comparison;  but  caus- 
ality is  less  marked,  and  the  whole  contour  is  one  of  little  power.  It 
is  not,  however,  the  sort  of  head  one  would  expect  to  find  on  the 
shoulders  of  a  savage,  more  especially  of  the  savage  who  can  continue 
such  in  the  midst  of  civilization.  On  reaching  the  school-house,  I 
learned  that  John  (Swanson)  had  resigned  the  school  in  consequence 
of  an  appointment  to  the  mission  at  Fort  William.  I  find  that,  in  a 
pecuniary  point  of  view,  he  is  to  gain  almost  nothing  from  the  change. 
The  salary  does  not  exceed  sixty  pounds  a  year,  and  he  is  to  be  fur- 
nished with  neither  house  nor  garden.  But  it  is  to  open  to  him  a 
wider  field  of  usefulness,  and  to  John  that  is  motive  enough.  He  is, 
in  the  extreme  meaning  of  the  term,  what  Bonaparte  used  to  designate 
with  so  much  contempt,  an  ideologist,  that  is,  a  foolish  fellow  who  does 


458  HUGH     MILLER. 

good  just  because  it  is  good,  and  for  the  pure  love  of  doing  it.  I 
feel,  however,  very  anxious  on  his  account  regarding  the  mission. 
The  part  of  the  country  to  which  he  is  going  is  said  to  be  wretchedly 
unwholesome, — full  of  lakes  and  marshes,  and  infested  with  miasma; 
and  sometimes,  when  I  consider  the  exhaustive  fervency  of  his  spirit 
and  the  weakness  of  his  frame,  I  can  not  avoid  fearing  that  I  may 
have  yet  to  think  of  him  in  connection  with  a  solitary  Highland 
church-yard  and  a  nameless  grave.  Poor  William  Ross !  he  is  now 
seven  years  dead,  and  were  I  to  lose  John  also,  where  might  I  look 
for  friends  of  the  same  class, — men  who,  attached  to  me  for  my  own 
sake  alone,  could  regard  me  in  every  change  of  circumstances  with 
but  one  feeling  ?  And  John,  too,  is  more  than  my  friend.  He  is, 
my  own  Lydia, — and  I  love  him  ten  times  the  more  for  it, — he  is 
ours. 

"I  pursued  my  journey  from  the  school-house  in  the  morning,  and, 
in  passing  through  the  deep,  dreary  wood  of  Culrossie,*  found  myself, 
as  I  supposed,  quite  on  the  eve  of  an  adventure.  I  carried  with  me 
a  considerable  sum  of  money, — several  hundred  pounds, — and  that  I 
might  be  the  better  able  to  protect  it  had  furnished  myself  with  a 
brace  of  pistols,  when  lo  !  in  the  thickest  and  most  solitary  part  of 
the  wood  up  there  started  two  of  the  most  blackguard-looking  fellows 
I  ever  saw.  They  seemed  to  be  Irish  horse-jockeys.  One  wore  a 
black  patch  over  his  eye  and  a  ragged  straw  hat;  the  other  a  white 
frieze  jacket,  sorely  out  at  the  elbows ;  and  both  were  armed  with 
bludgeons  loaded  with  lead.  I  had  time  enough  ere  they  came  up  to 
cock  both  my  pistols.  One  I  thrust  under  the  breast-flap  of  my  coat, 
the  other  I  carried  behind  my  back,  and,  sheering  to  the  extreme 
e<^ge  of  the  road  with  a  trigger  under  each  fore-finger,  I  passed  them 
unmolested.  One  of  them  regarded  me  with  a  sardonic  grin.  My 
posture,  I  suspect,  must  have  seemed  sufficiently  stiff  and  constrained 
for  that  of  a  traveler." 

He  next  touches  upon  some  book  purchases  in  which  he  and  his 
correspondent  have  a  common  interest.  "  There  is  a  neat  pocket- 
copy  of  Johnson's  Lives  that  will  do  well  for  the  beech-tree;  I  have 
besides  got  a  copy  of  'Paley,'  similar  to  the  one  you  had  from  Mrs. 

I ;  a  copy  of  Smollett's  'Humphrey  Clinker'  (my  heart  warmed 

to  this  book, — for,  though  many  years  have  passed  since  I  last  pe- 
rused it,  it  was  one  of  my  earliest  favorites),  and  a  minute  copy  of 
'Childe  Harold.'  I  saw,  in  Douglas's,  Leigh  Hunt's  Journal.  The 
notice  of  our  little  book  is  a  highly  gratifying  one ;  is  it  not  well  that 
it  is  the  highest  names  who  praise  it  most?  Hunt  characterizes  it  as 
'a  highly  amusing  book,  written  by  a  remarkable  man,  who  will  infal- 
libly be  well  known. '  I  am  placed  side  by  side  with  Allan  Cunningham ; 
there  is  a  but,  however,  in  the  parallel,  which  I  suspect  Allan  will  not 

particularly  like.  '  But,'  says  Hunt,  '  Mr.  M ,  besides  a  poetical 

imagination,  has  great  depth  of  reflection;  and  his  style  is  so  choice, 
pregnant,  and  exceedingly  like  an  educated  one,  that  if  it  betrays  itself 


HIS    FRIEND,     MISS    DUN  BAR.  459 

in  any  respect  to  be  otherwise,  it  is  by  that  very  excess ;  as  Theo- 
phrastes  was  known  not  to  have  been  born  in  Attica  by  his  too-Attic 
nicety.' 

"My  poor  friend,  Miss  Dunbar,  of  Boath,  is  dead ;  she  died  on  the 
evening  of  Monday,  the  3oth  of  June.  The  severe  and  ever-recurring 
attacks  of  her  cruel  disease  had  undermined  a  constitution  originally 
good,  and  it  at  length  suddenly  gave  way  under  the  pressure  of  what 
seemed  to  be  comparatively  a  slight  indisposition.  She  is  gone,  and  I 
have  lost  a  kind  and  attached  friend.  But  it  would  be  selfish  to  re- 
gret that  suffering  so  excruciating  as  hers  should  have  terminated ; 
for  months  past  I  could  think  of  her  only  as  a  person  stretched  on 
the  rack,  with  now  and  then,  perhaps,  a  transient  glimpse  of  enjoy- 
ment,— for  such  is  the  economy  of  human  feeling,  that  every  cessa- 
tion from  suffering  is  positive  pleasure  to  the  sufferer ;  but  what,  alas  ! 
had  she  to  anticipate  in  this  world  save  pang  after  pang  in  prolonged 
and  direful  succession,  nights  of  pain  and  days  of  weariness,  and  at 
length  the  opening  of  a  door  of  escape,  but  only  that  door  through 
which  she  has  just  passed  ?  I  trust,  my  own  Lydia,  that  it  is  well 
with  her.  Her  heart  was  in  the  right  place ;  it  was  ever  an  affec- 
tionate one, — perhaps  too  exquisitely  so;  but  it  seems  finally  to  have 
fixed  on  the  worthiest  of  all  objects.  She  had  learned  to  look  for 
salvation  through  Him  only  in  whom  it  is  alone  to  be  found.  There 
are  many  whom  suffering  has  the  effect  of  so  wrapping  up  in  them- 
selves that  they  can  feel  for  no  one  else.  But  it  was  not  thus  with 
Miss  Dunbar ;  she  could  think,  even  when  at  the  worst,  of  the  little 
comforts  and  interests  of  her  friends;  half  her  last  letter  to  me  is 
occupied  with  a  detail  of  what  she  had  thought  and  heard  regarding 
my  Traditions.  I  was  engaged  in  writing  her  when  the  note  was 
brought  me  which  intimated  her  death. 

"  I  have  got  a  rather  severe  cold,  which  hangs  about  me.  Never 
was  cold  better  treated  than  mine;  it  eats  and  drinks  like  a  gentleman. 
A  shop-keeping  acquaintance  gives  it  liquorice,  Mr.  Ross  gives  it 
bramble-berry  jam,  Mrs.  Denham  has  given  it  honey,  and  now  Mrs. 
Fraser  has  sent  it  a  pot  of  tamarinds.  'Twill  be  a  wonder  if,  in  such 
circumstances,  it  goes  away  at  all.  I  have  begun,  but  barely  begun, 
my  statistical  account  of  the  parish  ;  it  must,  I  am  afraid,  be  both  dull 
and  commonplace,  for  I  am  alike  unwilling  either  to  repeat  myself,  or 
to  anticipate  any  of  my  better  materials  for  a  second  volume  of 
'Scenes  and  Legends,'  and  the  residue  is  mere  gossip.  Even  were  it 
otherwise,  my  abundance,  like  the  wealth  of  a  miser,  would  have  the 
effect  of  rendering  me  poor.  Had  I  but  a  single  story  to  tell,  I  would 
tell  it ;  but  who  would  ever  think  of  telling  one  of  a  hundred? 

"  I  have  no  words  to  express  to  you,  my  own  Lydia,  how  much  I 
long  for  your  return,  or  how  cold  a  looking  place  Cromarty  has  be- 
come since  you  left  it.  Ordinary  pleasures  and  lukewarm  friendships 
do  well  enough  for  men  who  have  not  yet  had  experience  of  the  in- 
tense and  the  exquisite,  but  to  those  who  have  they  do  not  seem  pleasures 


460  HUGH     MILLER. 

or  friendships  at  all.  I  am  amusing  myself,  however,  just  as  I  best 
can ;  sometimes  picking  up  a  geological  specimen  for  my  collection, 
sometimes  making  an  excursion  to  the  hill  or  the  burn  of  Eathie.  I 
accompanied  to  the  latter  place,  on  Saturday  last,  Mr.  Ross  and  his 
children,  with  two  of  their  cousins,  the  Joyners.  We  were  all  thor- 
oughly wetted,  and  thoroughly  amused;  we  told  stories,  gathered  im- 
mense bunches  of  flowers,  incarcerated  alight  company  of  green  grass- 
hoppers, who  were  disorderly,  and  ruined  two  unfortunate  born  beauties 
of  the  butterfly  tribe.  We,  besides,  ran  down  a  green  lizard.  I  have 
picked  up  of  late,  in  the  little  bay  below  the  willows,  a  fossil  fish,  in 
a  high  state  of  preservation  ;  the  scales,  head,  tail,  fins,  are  all  beau- 
tifully distinct,  and  yet  so  very  ancient  is  the  formation  in  which  it 
was  found,  that  the  era  of  the  lias,  with  all  its  ammonites  and  belem- 
nites,  is  comparatively  recent. 

"You  are  fretted,  my  own  dear  girl,  by  the  bondage  to  frivolity 
which  sex  and  fashion  impose  upon  you.  No  wonder  you  should, 
when  one  thinks  of  the  sort  of  laws  by  which  you  are  bound.  The 
blockheads  are  a  preponderating  majority  in  both  sexes ;  but  somehow 
in  ours  the  clever  fellows  contrive  to  take  the  lead  and  make  the  laws, 
whereas  I  suspect  that  in  yours  the  more  numerous  party  are  tenacious 
of  their  privileges  as  such,  and  legislate  both  for  themselves  and  the 
minority." 

In  the  letter  from  Miss  Fraser,  to  which  our  next  from  Miller  is  a 
reply,  there  occurred  several  descriptive  sketches  of  the  scenery  amid 
which  she  was  at  the  time,  and  an  allusion  to  the  Rev.  Mr.  Fraser,  of 
Kirkhill,  who  had  just  lost  his  life  by  a  fall  from  his  gig.  The  pass- 
age in  which  Hugh  refers  to  the  early  writings  of  David  Urquhart  and 
the  threatening  ambition  of  Russia,  is  curious,  when  viewed  in  connec- 
tion with  the  issue  of  Russian  scheming  in  the  Crimean  war. 

"I  am  thinking  long  for  you,  dearest,  and  for  the  last  week  have 
been  counting  the  days ;  counting  them  in  the  style  of  the  fool  whom 
Jacques  met  in  the  forest :  '  To-day  is  the  iQth,  the  20th  comes  to- 
morrow, and  the  22d  will  be  here  the  day  after;'  they  will  creep 
away  one  by  one,  and  Lydia  will  be  with  me  ere  they  bring  the  month 
to  an  end.  My  heart  is  full  of  you ;  full  of  you  every  hour,  and 
every  minute,  and  all  day  long.  I  walked  last  Saturday  on  the  hill 
and  saw  our  beech-tree,  but  lacked  heart  to  go  down  to  it;  I  thought 
it  looked  dreary  and  deserted,  and  I  felt  that,  were  I  to  lose  you,  it 
would  be,  of  all  places  in  the  world,  the  place  I  could  least  bear  to 
see.  Your  grave — but  how  can  I  speak  of  it ! — would  be  a  place 
devoted  to  sorrow,  but  to  a  sorrow  not  sublimed  into  agony.  I  could 
clasp  the  green  turf  to  my  bosom,  and  make  my  bed  upon  it;  but 
our  beautiful  beech-tree,  with  its  foliage  impervious  to  the  sun,  and 
its  deep,  cool  recess,  in  which  we  have  so  often  sat  under  the  cover 
of  one  plaid, — I  could  not  visit  it,  Lydia,  unless  I  felt  myself  dying, 
and  were  assured  I  would  die  under  its  shadow.  Many,  many  thanks, 
dearest,  for  your  kind,  sweet  letter.  It  is  just  what  a  letter  should 


MISS     ERASER.  461 

be,  with  heart  and  imagination  and  pretty,  easy  words  in  it,  and  yet 
it  is  an  unsatisfactory  thing  after  all.  Instead  of  consoling  me  for 
your  absence,  it  only  makes  me  long  the  more  for  you.  It  is  but  a 
pouring  of  oil  on  a  flame  that  burnt  fiercely  enough  before. 

"I  have  seen  one  of  the  scenes  you  describe  so  sweetly, — the 
bridge  of  Ardross;  but  it  is  a  good  many  years  since,  and  it  was 
after  I  had  just  returned  from  the  western  Highlands  of  Ross-shire, 
where  I  had  visited  many  scenes  of  a  similar  character,  but  on  a  much 
larger  scale ;  and  so,  I  was  not  so  much  impressed  by  it.  I  still  re- 
member, however,  the  dark  rocks  and  the  foaming  torrent,  and  the 
steep  slopes  waving  with  birch  and  hazel,  that  ascends  towards  the 
uplands,  and  the  abrupt,  heathy  summit  of  Foyers  overlooking  the 
whole.  I  trust  your' guides  did  not  forget  to  point  out  to  you  the 
two  majestic  oak-trees  of  this  wild  dell,  that  are  famed  as  by  far  the 
finest  in  Ross-shire.  One  of  them  has  been  valued  at  one  hundred 
pounds  sterling ;  and  not  many  years  since,  when  the  late  Duke  of 
Sutherland  purchased  the  estate  of  Ardross  eta  which  it  grows,  there 
was  a  road  cut  to  it  that  he  might  go  and  see  it.  You  are  now  in  the 
parish  of  Urquhart  with  good  Mr.  Macdonald.  There  is  not  much 
to  be  seen  in  your  immediate  neighborhood.  Do  not  omit  visiting, 
as  it  is  quite  beside  you,  the  ancient  burying-ground  of  Urquhart. 
See  whether  there  be  not  yet  an  old  dial-stone  on  the  eastern  wall, 
beside  a  little  garden.  I  saw  it  there  fourteen  years  ago,  and  the 
thoughts  which  it  suggested  have  since  traveled  far  in  the  stanzas  be- 
ginning 'Gray  Dial-stone.' 

"  I  am  happy,  dearest  Lydia,  that  you  are  not  going  to  Cadboll. 
Typhus  is  still  raging,  I  hear,  in  that  part  of  the  country.  My  own 
dearest  lassie,  why  am  I  so  much  more  anxious  on  your  account  than 
on  my  own?  But  it  is  always  thus  when  the  heart  takes  a  firm  grasp 
of  its  object.  Man,  in  his  colder  moods,  when  the  affections  lie 
asleep,  is  a  vile,  selfish  animal ;  his  very  virtues  are  virtues  so  exclu- 
sively on  his  own  behalf,  that  they  are  well-nigh  as  hateful  as  his  vices. 
But  love,  my  dearest,  is  the  fulfilling  of  the  law;  it  draws  us  out  of 
our  crust  of  self,  and  we  are  made  to  know  through  it  what  it  is  to 
love  our  neighbor  not  merely  as  well  but  better  than  ourselves.  \Ve 
err  grievously  in  those  analogies  by  which  we  attempt  to  eke  out  our 
knowledge  of  the  laws  of  God  through  an  acquaintance  with  the  laws 
of  man ;  and  quite  as  grievously,  and  in  the  same  way,  when  we  strive  to 
become  wise  by  extinguishing  our  passions.  The  requirements  of  the 
statute  book  are  addressed  to  the  merely  rational  part  of  our  nature; 
and  could  one  abstract  the  reason  of  man  from  the  complex  whole  of 
which  he  consists,  that  single  part  of  him  would  be  quite  sufficient  for 
the  fulfillment  of  them.  But  it  is  not  so  with  the  law  of  Deity ;  it  is  a 
law  which  must  be  written  on  the  heart,  and  it  addresses  itself  to  our 
whole  nature ;  or,  to  state  the  thing  more  clearly,  it  is  not  more  a 
law  promulgated  for  man's  obedience  than  a  revelation  of  his  primi- 
tive constitution,  and,  through  grace,  this  constitution  must  be  in 


462  HUGH     MILLER. 

some  degree  restored  ere  the  law,  which  is  as  it  were  a  transcript 
of  it,  can  be  at  all  efficient  in  forming  his  conduct. 

"Are  you  aware  that  wild  deer  sometimes  swim  across  wide  estua- 
ries, such  as  the  Frith  of  Cromarty  ?  It  was  only  last  week  that  some 
of  our  boatmen  found  a  fine  roe  swimming  across  to  the  Black  Isle 
side,  nearly  opposite  the  church  of  Rosskeen,  and  fully  three-quarters 
of  a  mile  from  the  nearest  shore.  It  is  still  alive,  and  in  the  keep- 
ing of  Mr.  Watson.  My  uncle  tells  me  that  in  calm  weather  deer 
not  unfrequently  cross  the  opening  of  the  bay  from  Sutor  to  Sutor; 
and  that  when  he  was  a  boy  there  was  a  fine  large  animal  of  this 
species  captured  by  some  fishermen  when  swimming  from  the  Black 
Park,  near  Invergordon,  to  the  Cromarty  quarries,  where  the  frith  is 
fully  five  miles  in  breadth. 

"  I  have  seen  of  late  some  highly  interesting  articles  on  the  polit- 
ical designs  of  Russia,  by  David  Urquhart,  of  Braelanguel,  a  talented 
young  fellow,  better  acquainted  with  the  details  of  the  question  than 
perhaps  any  other  Briton  of  the  present  day.  It  is  wonderful  with 
what  art  this  mighty  empire  has  been  extending  and  consolidating  its 
power  for  the  last  century.  Should  it  go  on  unchecked  for  half  a  cen- 
tury more,  civilized  Europe  must  fall  before  it,  and  the  world  witness, 
a  second  time,  the  arts  and  refinements  of  polished  life  overwhelmed 
and  lost  in  a  deluge  of  northern  barbarism.  The  democratic  prin- 
ciple, says  Hume,  is  generally  strongest  among  a  civilized  people;  the 
thirst  of  conquest,  among  a  semi-barbarous  one.  Urquhart  shows  me 
that  the  Russians  of  the  present  time  are  strongly  possessed  by  the 
latter,  and  never,  certainly,  was  the  democratic  principle  stronger  in 
civilized  Europe  than  now.  Witness  the  struggles  of  the  antagonist 
parties  in  France,  Austria,  and  Italy,  and  to  what  extremes  Whigs 
and  Tories  carry  matters  among  ourselves.  And  the  democratic  prin- 
ciple has  this  disadvantage,  when  contemporary  with  the  other,  that  it 
leadsmen  to  seek  their  opponents  at  home,  and  draws  their  attention  from 
abroad.  And  hence  they  may  remain  unwarned  and  disunited  until 
warning  and  union  be  of  no  avail.  But  forgive  me,  I  am  boring  you 
with  politics ;  remember,  however,  that  I  do  not  often  transgress  in 
this  way." 

Readers  will  recollect  Finlay,  the  gentle,  rhyming  boy,  who  had 
been  of  the  Marcus  Cave  band,  and  to  whom  Miller  had  been  ardently 
attached.  Seventeen  years  had  passed  away  since  he  left  Cromarty, 
and  it  does  not  appear  that  any  tidings  of  him  had  reached  Hugh  in 
the  interval.  One  day,  however,  he  was  surprised  by  the  arrival  of  a 
letter  dated  Spanish  Town,  Jamaica,  signed  by  the  hand  of  Finlay. 
He  had  often,  he  said,  thought  of  writing,  but  he  had  fancied  that 
Miller  had  left  Scotland,  being  convinced  that,  had  he  remained  in 
his  native  country,  he  must  have  distinguished  himself.  "Often," 
he  proceeds,  "have  I  looked  into  the  advertising  columns  of  'Black- 
wood,'  'Fraser,'  and  'Tait,'  to  see  the  announcement  of  a  volume  of 
poetry,  tales,  or  something  to  show  that  genius  was  not  confined  to 


LETTER     TO     FINLAY.  463 

the  south,  and  at  length  I  was  yesterday  gratified  by  seeing  your  name 
in  a  stray  number  of  Chambers'  Journal  for  last  year  as  the  author 
of  the  'Traditionary  History  of  Cromarty.'  You  have  no  idea,  my 
dear  fellow,  how  my  heart  glowed  when  I  read  your  praises ;  and, 
with  the  whole  Scotsman  running  riot  in  my  veins,  have  I  reveled 
in  the  story  of  Sandy  Wright  (there  is  some  of  it  like  my  own,  entre 
nous),  so  like  the  benevolent  heart  of  my  ain  Hugh  Miller." 

This  was  a  great  occasion  for  Miller.  The  image  of  his  boy-friend 
lay  in  his  heart  like  a  coin  of  pure  gold  committed  to  a  delicate 
casket,  and  when  he  looked  upon  it  after  seventeen  years  the  likeness 
was  bright  as  on  the  morning  when  he  bade  Finlay  adieu.  He  seized 
his  pen  and  wrote  as  follows.  As  we  read  this  letter  can  we  help 
loving  Hugh  Miller? 

"CROMARTY,   OCT.    15,    1836. 

"  MY  OWN  DEAR  FINLAY  : — Yes,  the  wise  old  king  was  quite  in 
the  right.  *  As  cold  waters  to  the  thirsty  soul,  so  is  good  news  from 
a  far  country.'  My  very  hopes  regarding  the  boy-friend,  whom  I 
loved  so  much  and  regretted  so  long,  have  been  dead  for  the  last  twelve 
years.  I  could  think  of  you  as  a  present  existence  only  in  relation 
to  the  other  world  ;  in  your  relation  to  this  one  merely  as  a  recollec- 
tion of  the  past.  And  yet  here  is  a  kind,  affectionate  letter,  so  full 
of  heart  that  it  has  opened  all  the  sluices  of  mine,  that  assures  me 
your  pulses  are  still  beating,  and  shows  me  they  desire  to  beat  for- 
ever. I  can  not  tell  you  how  much  and  often  I  have  thought  of  you, 
and  how  sincerely  the  man  has  longed  after  and  regretted  the  friend 
of  the  boy ;  you  were  lost  to  me  ere  I  knew  how  much  I  valued  and 
loved  you.  I  dare  say  you  don't  remember  that  shortly  before  you 
left  Cromarty  you  scrawled  your  name  with  a  piece  of  burnt  stick  on 
the  eastern  side  of  Marcus  Cave,  a  little  within  the  opening.  I  have 
renewed  these  characters  twenty  and  twenty  times;  and  it  was  not 
until  a  few  years  ago,  when  a  party  of  gypsies  took  possession  of  the 
cave,  and  smoked  it  all  as  black  as  a  chimney,  that  they  finally  disap- 
peared. Two  verses  of  the  little  pastoral  you  wrote  on  leaving  us 
are  fresh  in  my  memory  still — fresh  as  if  I  had  learned  them  only 
yesterday.  But  I  dare  say  at  this  distance  of  time  you  will  scarce 
recognize  them. 

"  '  Ye  shepherds,  who  merrily  sing 

And  laugh  out  the  long  summer  day, 
Expert  at  the  ball  and  the  ring, 

Whose  lives  are  one  circle  of  play, — 

"  '  To  you  my  dear  flock  I  resign, 

My  colley,  my  crook,  and  my  horn; 
To  leave  you,  indeed,  I  repine ; 
But  I  must  away  with  the  morn.' 

"There  they  are,  just  as  you   left  them  in   the  winter  of   1819. 


464  HUGH     MILLER. 

What,  dear  Finlay,  have  the  seventeen  intervening  years  been  doing 
with  your  face  and  figure?  The  heart,  I  know,  is  unchanged;  but 
what  like  are  you?  Are  you  still  a  handsome,  slender,  high-featured 
boy,  dressed  in  green?  John  Swanson  is  a  little  black  manny  with  a 
wig ;  and  I  have  been  growing  older,  but  you  won't  believe  it,  for 
the  last  eighteen  years.  Great  reason  to  be  thankful,  I  am  still  ugly 
as  ever.  Five  feet  eleven  when  I  straighten  myself,  with  hair  which 
my  friends  call  brown,  and  my  not-friens,  red;  features  irregular, 
but  not  at  all  ill-natured  in  the  expression ;  and  immense  head,  and 
a  forehead  three-quarters  of  a  yard  across.  Isn't  the  last  a  good  thing 
in  these  days  of  phrenology?  And  isn't  it  a  still  better  thing  that  a 
bonny  sweet  lassie,  with  a  great  deal  of  fine  sense  and  a  highly  culti- 
vated mind,  doesn't  think  me  too  ugly  to  be  liked  very  much,  and 
promises  to  marry  me  some  time  in  spring  ?  Do  give  me  a  portrait 
of  yourself  first  time  you  write,  and,  dearest  Finlay,  don't  let  other 
seventeen  years  pass  ere  then.  Is  it  not  a  wonder  we  are  both  alive? 
John  Layfield,  John  Mann,  David  Ross,  Andrew  Forbes,  Adam 
McGlashan,  Walter  Williamson,  are  all  dead, — yes,  Finlay,  all  dead. 
Of  all  our  cave  companions,  only  John  Swanson  survives.  John  is  a 
capital  fine  fellow.  He  was  quite  as  wild  a  boy,  you  know,  as  either 
of  ourselves,  and  perhaps  a  little  worse  tempered  ;  but,  growing  good 
about  twelve  years  ago,  he  put  himself  to  college  with  an  eye  to  the 
Church,  and  is  now  a  missionary  at  Fort  William.  Dearest  Finlay, 
have  you  grown  good  too  ?  I  was  in  danger  of  becoming  a  wild  in- 
fidel ;  argued  with  Uncle  Sandy  about  cause  and  effect  and  the  cate- 
gories; read  Hume,  and  Voltaire,  and  Volney,  and  all  the  other  witty 
fellows  who  have  too  much  sense  to  go  to  heaven ;  and  was  getting 
nearly  as  much  sense  in  that  way  as  themselves.  But  John  cured  me; 
and  you  may  now  say  of  me  what  Gray  says  of  himself:  '  No  very 
great  wit,  he  believes  in  a  God.'  The  Bible  is  a  much  more  cheer- 
ful book  than  I  once  used  to  think  it,  and  has  a  world  of  sound 
philosophy  in  it  besides. 

"  Do  you  remember  how  I  stole  you  from  John  ?  You  were  ac- 
quainted with  him  ere  you  knew  me,  and  used  to  spend  almost  all 
your  play-hours  with  him  on  the  Links,  or  in  his  little  garden.  But 
I  fell  in  love  with  you,  and  carried  you  off  at  the  first  pounce.  And 
John  was  left  lamenting  !  I  brought  you  to  the  woods,  and  the  wild 
sea-shore,  and  the  deep,  dark  caves  of  the  Sutors,  and  taught  you 
how  to  steal  turnips  and  peas ;  and  succeeded  (though  I  could  never 
get  you  improved  into  a  robber  of  orchards — though  you  had  no 
serious  objection  to  the  fruit  when  once  stolen)  in  making  you  nearly 
as  accomplished  a  vagabond  as  myself.  Are  not  you  grateful  ?  '  The 
boy,'  Wordsworth  says,  'is  father  to  the  man.'  If  so,  your  boy- 
father  was  a  warm-hearted  bonnie  laddie,  worthy  of  all  due  honor 
from  you  in  your  present  filial  relation;  but  as  for  mine,  I  can't  re- 
spect the  rascal,  let  the  commandment  run  as  it  please.  Don't  you 
remember  how  he  used  to  lead  you  into  every  kind  of  mischief,  and 


LETTER     TO      FINLAY.  465 

make  you  play  truant  three  days  out  of  four?    A  perfect  Caliban, 

too:— 

"  « I'll  show  thee  the  best  springs,  I'll  pluck  thee  berries, 
And  I,  with  my  long  nails,  will  dig  thee  pig-nuts.' 

But  he's  gone,  poor  fellow  !  and  his  son,  a  much  graver  person,  who 
writes  a  highly  sensible  letter,  has  a  thorough  respect  for  all  his 
father's  old  friends,  .and  steals  neither  peas  nor  turnips.  Fine  thing, 
dearest  Finlay,  to  b-2  able  now  and  then  to  play  the  fool.  I  wouldn't 
give  my  nonsense — to  be  sure  the  amount  is  immensely  greater — for 
all  my  sense  twice  told. 

"You  give  me  the  outlines  of  your  history,  and  I  must  give  you 
those  of  mine  in  turn.  But  they  are  sadly  unlike.  You  have  been 
going  on  through  life  like  a  horseman  on  a  journey,  and  are  now  far 
in  advance  of  the  starting-point.  I,  on  the  contrary,  have  been 
mounted,  whip  and  spur,  on  a  hobby,  and  after  seventeen  years'  hard 
driving,  here  I  am  in  exactly  the  same  spot  I  set  out  from.  But  I 
have  had  rare  sport  in  the  fine  ups  and  downs,  and  have  kept  sad- 
dle the  whole  time.  You  remember  I  was  on  the  eve  of  becoming 
a  mason  apprentice  when  you  left  me.  The  four  following  years 
were  passed  in  wandering  in  the  northern  and  western  Highlands, 
and  hills,  and  lakes,  and  rivers,  one  of  the  happiest  and  most  con- 
tented, though  apparently  most  forlorn,  of  stone-masons.  I  lived  in 
these  days  in  kilns  and  barns,  and  on  something  less  than  half  a 
crown  per  week,  and  have  been  located  for  months  together  in 
wild,  savage  districts,  where  I  could  scarce  find,  in  a  week's  time, 
a  person  with  English  enough  to  speak  to  me ;  but  I  was  dreaming 
behind  my  apron  of  poets  and  poetry,  and  of  making  myself  a 
name  ;  and  so  the  toils  and  hardships  of  the  present  were  lost  in 
the  uncertain  good  of  the  future.  Would  we  not  be  poor,  unhappy 
creatures,  dear  Finlay,  were  there  more  of  sober  sense  in  our  com- 
position and  less  of  foolish  hope?  In  1824  I  went  to  Edinburgh, 
where  I  wrought  for  part  of  two  years.  I  was  sanguine  in  my  ex- 
pectations of  meeting  with  you.  I  have  looked  a  thousand  times 
.after  the  college  students  and  smart  lawyer  clerks  whom  I  have  seen 
thronging  the  pavement,  in  the  hope  of  identifying  some  one  of 
them  with  my  early  friend.  On  one  occasion  I  even  supposed  I 
had  found  him,  and  then  blessed  God  I  had  not.  I  was  sauntering 
on  the  Calton  on  a  summer  Sabbath  morning  of  autumn,  when  I 
met  with  a  poor  maniac  who  seemed  to  recognize  me,  and  whose 
features  bore  certainly  a  marked  resemblance  to  yours.  I  can  not 
give  expression  to  what  I  felt ;  and  yet  the  sickening,  unhappy 
feeling  of  that  moment  is  still  as  fresh  in  my  recollection  as  if  I 
had  experienced  it  but  yesterday.  Strange  as  it  may  seem,  I  gave 
up  from  this  time  all  hope  of  ever  seeing  you,  and  felt  that,  even 
were  you  dead, — and  I  had  some  such  presentiment, — there  are  much 
worse  ways  of  losing  a  friend  than  by  death. 
30 


466  HUGH    MILLER. 

"  After  returning  from  Edinburgh  I  plied  the  mallet  for  a  season 
or  two  in  the  neighborhood,  working  mostly  in  church-yards, — a 
second  edition  of  Old  Mortality, — and  then  did  a  very  foolish  thing.  • 
I  published  a  volume  of  poems.  They  were  mostly  juvenile ;  and  I 
was  beguiled  into  the  belief  that  they  had  some  little  merit  by  the 
pleasing  images  and  recollections  of  early  life  and  lost  friends  which 
they  awakened  in  my  own  mind  through  the  influence  of  the  associ- 
ative faculty.  But  this  sort  of  merit  lay  all  outside  of  them,  if  I  may 
so  speak,  and  existed  in  relation  to  the  writer  alone ;  just  as  some 
little  trinket  may  awaken  in  our  mind  the  memory  of  a  dear  friend, 
and  be  a  mere  toy  of  no  value  to  every  body  else.  My  poems,  like 
the  Vicar  of  Wakefield's  tracts  on  the  great  monogamical  question,  are 
in  the  hands  of  only  the  happy  few ;  they  made  me  some  friends, 
however,  among  the  class  of  men  whose  friendship  one  is  disposed  to 
boast  of;  and  at  least  one  of  them,  '  Stanzas  on  a  Sun  Dial,'  promises 
to  live.  Chambers  alludes  to  it  in  the  notice  to  which  I  owe  the 
restoration  of  a  long-lost  friend.  The  volume  which,  maugre  its  in- 
different prose  broken  into  still  more  indifferent  rhyme,  and  all  its 
other  imperfections,  I  yet  venture  to  send  you,  is  dedicated  to  our 
common  friend,  Swanson ;  but,  being  as  tender  of  his  name  as  my 
own,  the  whole  is  anonymous.  In  the  latter  part  of  the  year  in 
which  it  appeared,  I  sent  a  few  letters  on  a  rather  unpromising  sub- 
ject, the  Herring  Fishery,  to  one  of  the  Inverness  newspapers.  They 
were  more  fortunate,  however,  than  the  poems,  and  attracted  so  much 
notice  that  the  proprietors  of  the  paper  published  them  in  a  pam- 
phlet, which  has  had  an  extensive  circulation.  I  send  it  you  with 
the  volume.  Every  mind,  large  or  small,  is,  you  know,  fitted  for  its 
predestined  work ;  some  to  make  epic  poems,  and  others  to  write 
letters  on  the  Herring  Fishery. 

"  I  continued  to  divide  my  time  between  the  mallet  and  the  pen 
till  about  two  years  ago,  when  I  was  nominated  accountant  to  a 
branch  of  the  Commercial  Bank,  recently  established  in  Cromarty. 
I  owe  the  appointment  to  the  kindness  of  the  banker,  Mr.  Robert 
Ross,  whom  I  dare  say  you  will  remember  as  an  old  neighbor,  and 
who,  when  you  left  Cromarty,  was  extensively  engaged  as  a  provision 
merchant  and  ship  owner.  I  published  my  last,  and  I  believe  best, 
work,  '  Scenes  and  Legends  of  the  North  of  Scotland,'  shortly  after. 
Some  minds,  like  winter  pears,  ripen  late ;  and  some  minds,  like  ex-* 
otics  in  a  northern  climate,  don't  ripen  at  all,  and  mine  seems  to 
belong  to  an  intermediate  class.  Sure  I  am  it  is  still  wofully  green, 
somewhat  like  our  present  late  crops ;  but  it  is  now  twenty  per  cent, 
more  mature  than  when  I  published  my  former  volume,  and  I  flatter 
myself  with  the  hope  that,  if  winter  doesn't  come  on  too  rapidly, 
it  may  get  better  still.  Read,  dear  Finlay,  my  '  Scenes  and  Legends  ' 
first ;  you  may  afterwards,  if  you  feel  inclined,  peep  into  the  other 
two  as  curiosities,  and  for  the  sake  of  lang  syne ;  but  I  wish  to  be 
introduced  to  you  as  I  am  at  present,  not  as  I  was  ten  years  ago. 


PHRENOLOGY     AS     A     SCIENCE.  467 

The  critics  have  been  all  exceedingly  good-natured,  and  I  would 
fain  send  you  some  of  the  reviews  with  which  they  have  favored  me 
(these  taken  together  would  form  as  bulky  a  volume  as  the  one  on 
which  they  were  written),  but  I  have  only  beside  me  at  present  the 
opinion  expressed  by  Leigh  Hunt  (the  friend  and  coadjutor  of  Byron, 
you  know),  and  the  notice  of  a  literary  paper,  The  Spectator.  These 
I  make  up  in  the  parcel. 

"Where,  think  you,  am  I  now?  On  the  grassy  summit  of 
McFarquhar's  Bed.  It  is  evening,  and  the  precipices  throw  their 
cold  dark  shadows  athwart  the  beach.  But  the  red  light  of  the  sun 
is  still  resting  on  the  higher  foliage  of  the  hill  above  ;  and  the  oppo- 
site land,  so  blue  and  dim,  stretches  along  the  horizon,  with  all  its 
speck-like  dwellings  shimmering  to  the  light  like  pearls.  Not  a  feat- 
ure of  the  scene  has  changed  since  we  last  gazed  on  it  together. 
What  seem  the  same  waves  are  still  fretting  against  the  same  pebbles ; 
and  yonder  spring,  at  which  we  have  so  often  filled  our  pitcher, 
comes  gushing  from  the  bank  with  the  same  volume,  and  tosses  up 
and  down  the  same  little  jet  of  sand  that  it  did  eighteen  years  ago. 
But  where  are  all  our  old  companions,  Finlay?  Lying  widely  scat- 
tered in  solitary  graves  !  David  Ross  lies  in  the  sea.  John  Man 
died  in  a  foreign  hospital,  Layfield  in  Berlin,  McGlashan  in  England, 
Walter  Williamson  in  North  America.  And  here  am  I,  though  still 
in  the  vigor  of  early  manhood,  the  oldest  of  all  the  group.  Who 
could  have  told  these  poor  fellows,  when  they  last  met  in  the  cave 
yonder,  that  '  Eternity  should  have  so  soon  inquired  of  them  what 
Time  had  been  doing?' 

"Regard,  my  dear  Finlay,  my  'Scenes  and  Legends'  as  a  long 
letter  from  Cromarty.  Do  write  me  a  little  newspaper.  Tell  me 
something  of  your  mode  of  life.  Give  me  some  idea  of  a  Jamaica 
landscape.  What  are  your  politics  ?  What  your  creed  ?  What  have 
you  been  doing,  and  thinking,  and  saying,  since  I  last  saw  you  ?  Tell 
me  all.  Your  letter  is  the  greatest  luxury  I  have  enjoyed  for  I  know 
not  how  long." 

The  Dr.  Waldie,  of  whom  we  heard  as  a  friend  of  Miller's  in  Lin- 
lithgow,  wrote  to  him  after  his  return  to  Cromarty,  and  received  a 
reply.  The  science,  or  sham  science,  of  phrenology,  was  then  mak- 
ing much  noise  in  the  world,  and  Hugh  was  for  some  time  disposed 
to  trust  in  it.  The  examination  of  his  own  head  by  a  professional 
phrenologist  did  not  tend  to  confirm  him  in  his  prepossessions ;  and, 
as  he  had  argued  with  Dr.  Waldie  in  favor  of  phrenology,  he  hastened 
to  lay  before  the  doctor  those  grounds  on  which  he  was  now  con- 
strained to  question  its  pretensions. 

"  I  think  with  much  complacency  of  our  little  discussions  on 
phrenology  and  geology  and  all  the  other  ologies,  and  of  the  relief 
which  I  used  to  derive  from  them  when  well-nigh  worn  out  with  the 
unwonted  employments  of  the  desk.  You  will,  I  dare  say,  be  dis- 
posed to  smile  when  I  tell  you  that  I  am  not  half  so  staunch  a 


468  HUGH     MILLER. 

phrenologist  now  as  I  was  six  months  ago,  and  be  ready  to  infer 
that  my  head  did  not  prove  quite  so  good  a  one  as  I  had  flattered 
myself  it  should.  Nay  now,  that  is  not  the  case  :  the  head  did  not 
prove  quite  as  good  a  one,  scarcely  inferior  in  general  size  to  that 
of  Burns,  and  well  developed  both  in  front  and  atop.  I  am  more 
disposed  to  quarrel  with  the  science  for  what  it  confers  upon  me  than 
for  what  it  withholds.  For  instance,  few  men  are  so  entirely  devoid 
as  I  am  of  a  musical  ear ;  it  was  long  ere  I  learned  to  distinguish 
the  commonest  tunes,  and,  though  somewhat  partial  to  a  Scotch 
song,  I  derive  my  pleasure  chiefly  from  the  words.  Besides,  and  the 
symptom  is,  I  suspect,  no  very  dubious  one,  of  all  musical  instru- 
ments I  relish  only  the  bagpipe.  Judge,  then,  of  my  surprise  to 
learn  from  Mr.  Coxe  (and  I  warned  him  to  be  wary)  that  Nature 
intended  me  for  a  musician.  You  are  aware  that  twenty  is  the 
highest  number  in  the  phrenological  scale ;  the  proportional  develop- 
ment of  music  in  my  head  is  as  sixteen.  But  if  more  than  justice 
be  done  me  as  a  musician,  in  other  respects  I  have  cause  to  com- 
plain. The  organ  of  language  is  more  poorly  developed  than  any 
other  in  the  head.  One,  of  course,  can't  claim  the  faculty  one  is 
said  to  want  with  as  much  boldness  as  one  may  disclaim  the  faculty 
one  is  said  to  possess ;  but  you  will  forgive  me  if  I  produce  some- 
thing like  testimony  on  the  point.  The  effects  of  an  imperfect  de- 
velopment of  language,  say  the  phrenologists,  are  a  difficulty  of  com- 
municating one's  ideas  to  another  from  a  want  of  expression,  which 
frequently  causes  stammering  and  a  repetition  of  the  same  words, 
and  a  meagerness  of  style  in  writing.  But  what  say  the  critics  in 
remarking  on  my  little  book?  'What  we  chiefly  found  to  admire,' 
says  one,  'is  the  singular  felicity  of  the  expression.'  'The  wonder 
of  the  book,'  says  another,  'lies  in  the  execution;  there  is  nothing 
of  clumsiness,  and  the  style  is  characterized  by  a  purity  and  elegance, 
an  ease  and  mastery  of  expression,  which  remind  one  of  Irving,  or 
of  Irving's  master,  Goldsmith.'  The  Presbyterian  Review  and  Leigh 
Hunt  testify  to  a  similar  effect.  '  But  has  not  vanity  something  to 
do  in  calling  in  such  testimony  ?'  Nothing  more  likely ;  still,  how- 
ever, the  evidence  is  quite  to  the  point ;  and,  as  I  have,  perhaps, 
in  some  little  degree  influenced  your  opinions  regarding  phrenology, 
I  deem  it  proper  thus  to  state  to  you  the  facts  which  have  since 
modified  my  own.  The  rest  of  the  forehead,  regarding  as  an  index 
of  mind,  has  its  discrepancies.  Causality  is  largely  developed ; 
wit — will  you  believe  it? — still  more  largely;  whereas  comparison 
and  individuality  are  only  moderate.  Now,  I  know  very  little  of 
my  own  faculties  if  this  order  should  not  be  reversed.  Individual- 
ity, or  the  ability  of  remembering  facts,  if  I  be  not  much  mistaken, 
takes  the  lead,  comparison  comes  next,  causality  follows,  and  wit 
at  a  considerable  distance  brings  up  the  rear.  I  find  little  to  re- 
mark regarding  the  rest  of  the  head ;  constructiveness,  benevolence, 
conscientiousness,  firmness,  ideality,  and  caution,  are  all  large ;  self- 


HIS     MARRIAGE.  469 

esteem  is  moderate,  love  of  approbation  is  amply,  but  not  inordinately, 
developed,  and  the  lower  propensities  are  barely  full.  You  see  it  is 
not  altogether  my  interest  to  become  a  skeptic  to  the  reality  of  the 
science ;  but  my  opinions  regarding  it  have,  notwithstanding,  under- 
gone a  considerable  change.  Phrenology,  however,  whatever  conclu- 
sion the  world  may  ultimately  arrive  at  regarding  it,  will  be  found  to 
have  had  an  important  use.  It  has  brought  the  metaphysician  from 
the  closet  into  the  world,  and  turned  his  attention,  hitherto  too  exclu- 
sively directed  to  the  commoner  operations  of  our  nature,  as  these 
may  be  observed  in  the  species,  to  the  wonderful  varieties  of  indi- 
vidual character. 

"  I  am  glad  you  have  read  Edwards.  He  stands  high  as  a  philos- 
opher, even  with  those  who  differ  with  him.  Sir  James  Mackintosh, 
in  his  masterly  dissertation  on  Ethics,  describes  his  reasoning  powers 
as  '  perhaps  unequaled,  certainly  unsurpassed,  among  men.'  Nothing 
so  common  among  thinkers'  of  a  low  order  as  what  are  termed  com- 
mon-sense objections  to  the  Scripture  doctrine  of  predestination ; 
from  minds  capacious  enough  to  receive  the  arguments  of  Edwards, 
we  have  none  of  these.  But  the  man  who  studies  him  would  need 
be  honest.  No  sincere  lover  of  the  truth  was  ever  the  worse  for  his 
admirable  reasonings,  and  religious  men  have  been  often  the  better 
for  them ;  but  they  may  be  converted  by  the  vicious  into  apologies 
for  their  indulgence  of  every  passion,  and  the  perpetration  of  every 
crime. 

"  I  trust  you  will  recommend  me  to  Mr.  Turpie.  Ask  him  if  he 
remembers  how  he  used  to  mar  my  calculations  by  getting  astride  of 
my  shoulders,  and  my  many  threats  of  beating  him,  which  he  learned 
to  treat  with  so  thorough  a  disregard." 

In  the  course  of  the  summer  of  1835,  Miller  was  applied  to  for 
contributions  to  the  "Tales  of  the  Borders,"  a  periodical  series  be- 
gun by  Mr.  J.  Mackay  Wilson,  and  highly  and  deservedly  popular. 
Wilson  had  died,  and  the  publication  of  the  Tales  was  continued  for 
the  benefit  of  his  widow.  Hugh  consented,  and  a  sufficient  number 
of  sketches  and  tales  from  his  pen  to  fill  a  considerable  volume  ap- 
peared in  the  series.  His  entire  remuneration,  as  he  informs  us  in 
the  "Schools  and  School-masters,"  was  five  pounds. 

MARRIAGE  —  CORRESPONDENCE  —  DEATH     OF      DAUGHTER  —  VIEWS     ON 

BANKING. 

On  the  yth  of  January,  1837,  Hugh  Miller  was  married  to  the  lady 
whom  he  had  so  long  and  so  ardently  loved.  Mr.  Ross,  his  superior 
in  the  bank  and  attached  personal  friend,  gave  away  the  bride,  and 
Mr.  Stewart  performed  the  ceremony.  It  was  a  day  to  make  Hugh's 
heart,  calm  as  he  was  in  all  things,  profoundly  calm  as  to  his  own 
achievements  and  successes,  glow  with  honorable  pride  and  well-earned 
joy.  He  had  dared,  while  in  his  mason's  apron,  to  aspire  to  the  hand 


47°  HUGH     MILLER. 

of  one  who  was  by  birth  and  breeding  a  lady.  The  attractions  of 
personal  beauty,  enhancing  those  of  a  cultivated  mind  and  graceful 
and  animated  manners,  had  led  him  captive,  and  for  the  first  and 
last  time,  in  all  the  intensity  of  meaning  that  can  be  thrown  into  the 
word,  he  loved.  This  affection  had  been  for  him  an  inspiration, 
turning  the  current  of  his  existence  into  a  new  channel,  and  rippling 
its  smooth  surface  with  the  genial  agitations  of  hope.  He  had  waited 
five  years,  and  at  times  he  had  been  anxious  and  despondent,  for  he 
never  wavered  in  his  determination  either  to  marry  Miss  Fraser  into 
the  position  of  a  lady  or  not  to  marry  her  at  all.  He  had  now 
established  himself  in  all  points  essential  to  right  success  in  life,  and 
might  contemplate  the  future  in  a  mood  of  quiet  assurance.  He  had 
made  his  mark  in  the  literature  of  his  country.  He  had  passed  into 
the  ranks  of  the  brain-workers  of  the  community,  depending  no 
longer  for  livelihood  on  the  toil  of  his  hands.  Any  bride  might  now 
be  proud  of  him.  What  was  very  pleasaftt  for  him  at  the  time,  and 
is  pleasant  for  us  to  contemplate  from  this  distance,  his  ascent  had 
been  viewed  with  unaffected  satisfaction  by  his  fellow-townsmen  and 
by  all  who  knew  him.  He  had  approved  himself  a  thoroughly  friendly 
man,  and  he  had  been  rewarded  by  the  good-will  and  kind  wishes 
of  many  friends.  On  the  occasion  of  his  marriage  his  happiness  was 
heartily  shared  in  by  the  people  of  Cromarty,  and  the  married  pair 
drove  off  on  their  wedding  trip  in  the  carriage  of  Mrs.  Major  Mac- 
kenzie, which  she  had  offered,  some  time  before,  to  her  friend  Miss 
Fraser. 

"  Setting  out,"  says  Miller,"  immediately  after  the  ceremony,  for  the 
southern  side  of  the  Moray  Frith,  we  spent  two  happy  days  together 
in  Elgin ;  and,  under  the  guidance  of  one  of  the  most  respected  citi- 
zens of  the  place, — my  kind  friend  Mr.  Isaac  Forsyth, — visited  the 
more  interesting  objects  connected  with  the  town  or  its  neighbor- 
hood." 

His  wedding  gift  to  his  wife  was  a  Bible,  on  which  he  inscribed  a 
few  stanzas  expressive  of  pious  joy,  deep  but  not  exultant.  Under 
such  auspices  Hugh  Miller  set  up  his  household  in  Cromarty.  His 
salary  was  but  sixty  pounds  a  year,  and  the  addition  which  he  made 
to  it  by  literary  contributions  was  as  yet  small.  Mrs.  Miller  con- 
tinued to  take  a  few  pupils.  A  parlor,  bedroom,  and  kitchen  had 
been  furnished,  and  one  servant  did  the  menial  work.  An  attic  room 
was  occupied  with  shelves,  on  which  his  few  books  and  fossils,  the 
nucleus  of  a  good  library  and  a  valuable  museum,  were  arranged. 
A  table  and  chair  were  placed  in  this  room,  and  it  became  Hugh's 
study.  It  was  here  that  he  wrote  a  number  of  tales  and  sketches, 
published  in  the  continuation  of  Wilson's  "Tales  of  the  Borders." 
The  dreary,  semi-intellectual  routine  of  a  bank  clerkship  somewhat 
damped  his  literary  ardor.  His  mind,  however,  gradually  regained 
its  elasticity,  and  he  soon  found  more  lucrative  employment  as  a  writer 
for  Chambers'  Edinburgh  Journal. 


LETTER  TO  ROBERT  CHAMBERS.          471 

The  month  in  which  he  was  married  had  not  yet  come  to  an  end 
when  he  learned  that  John  Swanson  had  lost  his  mother.  To  com- 
fort his  friends  in  their  distress  was  always  a  sacred  duty  with  Hugh, 
and  he  at  once  wrote  him. 

On  the  1 2th  of  September  of  the  same  year  we  find  him  writing 
to  Mr.  Robert  Chambers,  offering  one  or  two  pieces  for  the  Journal. 
"  I  am  leading,"  he  says,  "  a  quiet  and  very  happy  life  in  this  remote 
corner,  with  perhaps  a  little  less  time  than  I  know  what  to  do  with, 
but  by  no  means  overtoiled.  A  good  wife  is  a  mighty  addition  to  a 
man's  happiness ;  and  mine,  whom  I  have  been  courting  for  about  six 
years,  and  am  still  as  much  in  love  with  as  ever,  is  one  of  the  best. 
My  mornings  I  devote  to  composition;  my  days  and  the  early  part 
of  the  evening  I  spend  in  the  bank ;  at  night  I  have  again  an  hour 
or  two  to  myself;  my  Saturday  afternoons  are  given  to  pleasure, — 
some  sea  excursion,  for  I  have  got  a  little  boat  of  my  own,  or  some 
jaunt  of  observation  among  the  rocks  and  woods;  and  Sunday  as  a 
day  of  rest  closes  the  round. 

"Your  collection  of  ballads  I  have  found  to  be  quite  a  treasure, — 
excellent  in  itself  as  a  most  amusing  volume,  and  highly  interesting, 
regarded  as  the  people's  literature  of  the  ages  that  have  gone  by. 
You  now  occupy  the  place  in  relation  to  the  people  which  the  metrical 
historians  and  the  authors  of  the  ballads  did  a  few  centuries  ago." 

To  this  there  came  a  reply  warmed  by  that  true-hearted  kindness 
with  which  Miller's  correspondent  has  cheered  so  many  of  the  youth- 
ful soldiers  of  literature.  "The  account  you  give  me  of  your  domestic 
condition  is  necessarily  gratifying  to  one  who  feels  as  your  friend, 
and  is  anxious  to  be  regarded  in  the  same  light  by  yourself.  Your 
present  circumstances  are  most  creditable  to  you,  and  show  that  your 
intellect  has  its  true  and  proper  crown, — moral  worth.  May  you 
ever  be  thus  happy,  as  you  deserve  to  be  !  I  have  sometimes  thought 
of  more  prominent  and  brilliant  situations  for  you;  but  after  all,  if 
you  can  be  content  with  the  love  of  a  virtuous  woman  in  a  place 
where  you  have  the  chief  requisites  and  a  little  of  the  luxuries  of 
life,  and  where,  exempt  from,  the  excitements  and  sordid  bustle  of  a 
town,  you  can  employ  those  contemplative  powers  of  mind  which  I 
believe  to  be  your  highfst  gifts,  you  are  probably  better  as  you  are. 
Wordsworth  has  been  much  laughed  at  for  keeping  so  constantly  in 
the  country  ;  but  I  believe  he  is  right.  There  is  every  thing  certainly 
in  town  that  can  make  the  mind  active,  but  it  is  not  the  place  for 
doing  any  thing  great,  and  it  is  not  the  place  for  a  pure  and  morally 
satisfactory  life." 

Hugh  was  gladly  welcomed  as  a  contributor  to  the  Journal.  As 
usual,  he  replies  promptly  to  Mr.  Chambers's  "  kind  and  truly 
friendly  letter:" 

"  I  have  some  legendary  stories  lying  by  me,  which  I  wrote  about 
a  twelvemonth  ago,  with  the  intention  of  giving  them  to  the  public 
in  a  volume ;  but  the  Journal  will  spread  them  much  more  widely. 


472  HUGH      MILLER. 

There  is  a  dash  of  the  supernatural  in  some  of  them ;  but  I  trust 
that  will  break  no  squares  with  us  unless  they  should  lack  in  interest : 
besides,  I  hope  there  is  philosophy  enough  in  them  to  save  the  writer's 
credit  with  even  the  most  skeptical  of  your  readers.  Superstition, 
however,  is  not  at  all  the  same  sort  of  thing  in  these  northern  dis- 
tricts of  the  kingdom  that  it  is  in  those  of  the  south.  It  is  no  mere 
carcass,  with  just  enough  of  muscle  and  sinew  about  it  for  an  eccentric 
wit  to  experiment  upon  now  and  then  by  a  sort  of  galvanism  of  the 
imagination,  but  an  animated  body,  instinct  with  the  true  life.  I  am 
old  enough  to  have  seen  people  who  conversed  with  the  fairies,  and 
who  have  murmured  that  the  law  against  witchcraft  should  have  been 
suffered  to  fall  into  desuetude ;  and  as  for  ghosts,  why,  I  am  not  very 
sure  but  what  I  have  seen  ghosts  myself.  Superstition  here  is  still  living 
superstition,  and,  as  a  direct  consequence,  there  is  more  of  living 
interest  in  our  stories  of  the  supernatural  and  more  of  human  nature. 
When  a  man  has  a  place  in  them,  it  is  not  generic  but  specific  man — 
man  with  an  individual  character.  The  man  who  figures  in  an 
English  or  South  of  Scotland  legend  is  quite  as  abstract  a  person  as 
the  man  in  a  fable  of  yEsop ;  with  us  he  has  as  defined  a  personality 
as  the  'Rip  Van  Winkle,'  of  Washington  Irving  himself.  By  the 
way,  much  of  the  interest  of  this  admirable  story  is  derived  from  the 
well-defined  individuality  of  poor  Rip." 

One  or  two  other  letters  or  notes  passed  between  him  and  Mr. 
Chambers,  but  they  are  of  little  importance.  Hugh  once  has  this 
remark  on  the  nature  of  contentment :  "  The  content  which  is  merely 
an  indolent  acquiescence  in  one's  lot  is  so  questionable  a  virtue  that 
it  seems  better  suited  to  the  irrational  animals  than  to  man.  That 
content,  on  the  other  hand,  which  is  an  active  enjoyment  of  one's 
lot,  can  not  be  recommended  too  strongly.  And  it  is  this  latter 
virtue,  if  virtue  it  can  be  called,  that  my  papers  attempt  to  inculcate. 
True,  it  leads  to  no  Whittington  and  his  cat  sort  of  result,  but  it  does 
better, — it  leads  to  happiness,  a  result  decidedly  more  final  than  a 
coach  and  six.  Mr.  Chambers  once  suggested  that  he  might  advan- 
tageously "  shift  the  scene  "  from  his  "  dearly  beloved  Cromarty,"  and 
that  the  less  he  introduces  of  superstition  the  better.  "I  am  at  the 
same  time  very  sure,"  he  adds,  "  that  whatever  be  the  nature  of  your 
subject,  you  can  not  fail  to  give  it  that  certain  yet  indescribable  inter- 
est which  so  peculiarly  characterizes  all  that  comes  from  your  pen." 

The  cup  of  Miller's  happiness  was  full  when  a  little  daughter  began 
to  smile  upon  him  from  the  arms  of  her  mother.  All  gentle,  help- 
less things  he  loved  with  a  passion  of  tenderness,  and  his  affection 
for  his  own  little  prattler  was  inexpressible.  He  observed  her  move- 
ments with  ever  fresh  interest  and  charm.  "  My  little  girl,"  he  wrote 
once,  "  has  already  learned  to  make  more  noise  than  all  the  other 
inmates  of  the  house  put  together,  and  is  at  present  deeply  engaged 
in  the  study  of  light  and  color.  She  is  still  in  doubt,  however, 
whether  the  flame  of  the  candle  may  not  taste  as  well  as  it  looks." 


DEATH     OF     HIS     DAUGHTER.  473 

"She  was,"  says  Mrs.  Miller,  "a  delight  and  wonder  to  Hugh  above 
all  wonders.  Her  little  smiles  and  caresses  sent  him  always  away  to 
his  daily  toil  with  a  lighter  heart.  In  the  spring  of  1839  I  had  a  close 
nursing  for  several  weeks.  Then  there  was  a  marked  amendment. 
One  lovely  evening  in  April  I  went  out,  for  the  first  time  that  spring, 
to  breathe  the  air  of  the  hill.  When  I  returned,  I  found  the  child 
in  her  nurse's  arms,  at  the  attic  window,  from  which  she  used  to 
greet  her  papa  when  he  came  up  street.  She  had  been  planting  a 
little  garden,  in  the  window-sill,  of  polyanthus,  primrose,  and  other 
spring  flowers.  When  she  saw  me,  she  pushed  them  away,  with  the 
plaintive  'Awa,  awa,'  she  used  to  utter,  and  laid  her  head  upon  my 
breast.  An  internal  fit  came  on.  The  next  time  she  looked  up  it 
was  to  push  my  head  backwards  with  her  little  hand,  while  a  startled, 
inquiring,  almost  terrible  look  came  into  her  lovely  eyes.  All  the 
time  she  lay  dying,  which  was  three  days  and  three  nights,  her  father 
was  prostrate  in  the  dust  before  God  in  an  agony  of  tears.  Whether 
he  performed  his  daily  bank  duties,  or  any  part  of  them,  I  do  not 
remember;  but  such  a  personification  of  David  the  King,  at  a  like 
mournful  time,  it  is  impossible  to  imagine.  All  the  strong  man  was 
bowed  down.  He  wept,  he  mourned,  he  fasted,  he  prayed.  He  en- 
treated God  for  her  life.  Yet  when  she  was  taken  away,  a  calm  and 
implicit  submission  to  the  divine  will  succeeded,  although  still  his 
eyes  were  fountains  of  tears.  Never  again  in  the  course  of  his  life 
was  he  thus  affected.  He  was  an  affectionate  father,  and  some  of  his 
children  were  at  times  near  death,  but  he  never  again  lost  thus  the 
calmness  and  dignity,  the  natural  equipoise,  as  it  were,  of  his  man- 
hood." This  was  the  first  and  the  last  poignant  domestic  sorrow 
Miller  experienced.  He  cut  the  little  head-stone  for  his  darling,  and 
never  again  put  chisel  to  stone. 

SCIENCE    IN   THE   ASCENDANT. 

During  these  last  quiet  years  of  his  residence  in  Cromarty,  when 
Miller  was  putting  the  last  touches  to  the  curiosa  felicitas  of  his  style, 
and  choosing  irreversibly  the  form  in  which  his  higher  intellectual 
activity  was  to  be  exerted,  the  question  came  often  directly  or  indi- 
rectly before  him  whether  his  supreme  devotion  should  be  to  liter- 
ature or  to  science.  Poetry  had  been  as  good  as  abandoned.  He  did, 
indeed,  as  his  wife  and  one  or  two  of  his  most  confidential  friends 
were  aware,  cherish  the  resolution  to  return  to  verse,  and  had  visions  of 
bringing  even  his  science  ultimately  to  minister  to  the  Muse.  Hut  for 
the  present  his  critical  faculty  in  the  poetical  department  had  out- 
stripped his  productive  faculty,  and  he  wrote  almost  exclusively  in 
prose.  We  find,  however,  from  his  correspondence,  that  the  leg- 
endary tales  and  biographical  sketches  to  which  he  had  so  long  de- 
voted attention,  had  ceased  to  interest  him  is  formerly,  and  that  he 
contemplated  a  transference  of  his  allegiance  from  literature  to  sci- 


474  HUGH     MILLER. 

ence.  Literature  has  been  called  the  science  of  man  ;  science  may 
be  called  the  literature  of  nature.  If  the  hackneyed  quotation  from 
Pope  as  to  man  being  mankind's  noblest  study  has  become  hackneyed 
on  account  of  its  truth,  and  if  Sir  W.  Hamilton's  favorite  lines 
about  man  and  mind  being  the  only  great  things  on  earth  are  not 
rhodomontade,  and  if  Shakespeare  is  higher  than  Newton  among  the 
moderns,  and  Homer  higher  than  Aristotle  or  Plato  among  the  an- 
cients, it  would  seem  to  follow  that  literary  art,  as  displayed  in  his- 
tory, poetry,  the  drama,  and  prose  fiction,  takes  legitimate  preced- 
ence of  that  inquiry  into  the  sequences  of  the  physical  world,  which 
bears  specifically  the  name  of  science.  But  it  was  under  the  influ- 
ence of  no  abstract  considerations  that  Miller  determined  in  favor 
of  the  latter.  Literature,  as  it  presented  itself  to  his  mind,  did  not 
afford  scope  to  his  abilities.  The  traditions,  the  legends,  the  history 
of  his  native  place, — the  characters  of  the  men  he  had  known  since 
boyhood, — did  not  appear  to  furnish  materials  out  of  which  im- 
portant literary  works  could  be  constructed.  The  vein  was  worked 
out. 

It  is  perhaps  surprising  that  he  did  not,  so  far  as  can  be  discovered, 
think  of  Scottish  history  as  a  field  in  which  to  employ  himself.  He 
might  have  written  a  history  of  Scotland  which  the  world  would  have 
placed  among  the  acknowledged  master-pieces  in  this  species  of  com- 
position. The  view  taken  of  Scottish  history  by  Miller  was  essen- 
tially the  same  as  that  taken  by  Burns,  by  Scott,  by  Wilson,  by  Car- 
lyle,  and  he  was  more  profoundly  in  sympathy  with  the  religious 
genius  of  his  nation  than  any  one  of  these.  His  strength  as  a  stylist 
lay  in  description,  and  all  his  books  afford  proof  of  his  skill  in  con- 
tinuous narrative. 

In  the  history  of  literature,  again,  he  was  fitted  to  excel.  No  such 
employment  of  his  powers,  however,  seems  to  have  occurred  to  him. 
Science  invited  him  to  an  unbeaten  path — to  an  assured  originality — 
and  the  scene  in  which  her  wonders  were  to  be  sought  had  been 
his  play-ground  since  infancy.  That  devotion  to  science  was  attain- 
ing in  his  mind  the  power  of  a  ruling  passion  is  attested  in  that  chap- 
ter of  the  "Scenes  and  Legends"  in  which  he  presents  himself  to  his 
readers  as  the  "Antiquary  of  the  World."  There  is  a  curious  interest 
in  observing  how  much  this  chapter  contains  of  what,  a  few  years 
subsequently,  made  Miller  famous  as  a  geologist  throughout  the  world. 

In  a  letter  addressed  to  Mr.  Duff,  in  December,  1838,  we  meet 
with  'the  following  passage,  descriptive  of  an  attack  of  illness,  under 
which  Hugh  had  recently  suffered  : 

"During  the  whole  of  November  I  was  toiled  almost  to  death 
at  the  bank  with  our  yearly  balance,  and  I  have  been  confined  by 
small-pox  ever  since,  with  a  face  doubtless  a  good  deal  less  hand- 
some than  usual,  and  surrounded  by  faces  uglier  than  even  my  own. 
There  were  faces  on  the  bed -curtains,  and  faces  on  the  walls,  and 
faces  in  abundance  on  my  wife's  tartan  gown;  and  when  I  shut  my 


L  IT  ER  ATURE'   AN  D     SCIENCE. 


475 


eyes  to  exclude  them,  I  just  saw  them  all  the  more  clearly.  I  strove 
hard  to  call  up  more  agreeable  pictures.  The  tree-ferns  and  sau- 
rians  of  the  lias,  or  the  half-tailed  fish  and  cocostei  of  the  Old  Red 
Sandstone,  it  would  be  worth  while  getting  into  a  fever  to  see ;  but  I 
called  upon  them  as  vainly  as  Hotspur  did  upon  the  spirits  of  the 
'vasty  deep.'  I  saw  faces,  faces,  faces,  and  saw  nothing  else.  The 
phenomena  of  mind  as  exhibited  in  disease  have,  I  suspect,  been 
studied  a  great  deal  too  little.  Can  you  tell  me  how  a  person  affected 
by  fever  can  be  both  a  man  and  a  magic-lantern  at  the  same  time, 
and  marvel  exceedingly  in  his  capacity  of  spectator  at  what  he  exhibits 
to  himself  in  his  character  of  showman  ?  I  am  as  much  a  geologist 
as  ever, — a  huge  breaker  of  stones ;  and  I  expect,  when  I  have  broken 
up  a  few  hundred  cart-loads  more,  to  know  something  of  the  matter. 
I  am  fighting  my  way,  all  alone,  by  main  strength, — the  very  anti- 
type of  Thor  and  his  hammer,  and  find  that  I  have  not  been  fourteen 
years  a  mason  for  nothing.  ...  I  must  set  myself  in  right 
earnest,  some  time  next  summer,  to  draw  up  an  account  of  the  geol- 
ogy of  this  part  of  the  country.  I  have  picked  up,  in  a  desultory 
way,  a  good  many  facts,  some  of  them  of  value  enough  to  be  pre- 
served ;  and  I  am  of  opinion,  besides,  that  the  geology  of  Cromarty, 
well  understood,  may  serve,  in  part,  at  least,  as  a  kind  of  key  to 
that  of  Moray,  and  of  the  various  localities  in  which  there  occur 
fish-beds  of  the  same  kind  with  ours.  More  splendid  sections  are  to 
be  found  nowhere.  The  burn  of  Eathie  is  a  study  in  itself." 

His  literary  essays  and  his  legendary  tales  had  drawn  upon  Miller 
the  attention  of  men  eminent  in  the  world  of  literature;  this  chapter 
of  his  book  constituted  his  introduction  to  circles  interested  in  the 
pursuit  of  science.  "I  may  mention,"  he  says  in  a  letter  to  Mr. 
Robert  Chambers,  "that  a  geological  chapter  in  my  little  volume  of 
'Scenes  and  Legends'  has  attracted  more  notice  among  the  learned 

than  all  the  other  chapters  put  together.     Mrs. had  a  hit  at  me 

in  Tait  for  introducing  such  a  subject ;  I  could  not  tell  her,  however, 
of  Fellows  of  the  Geological  Society  and  Professors  of  Colleges  whom 
my  chapter  has  brought  more  than  a  day's  journey  out  of  their  route 
to  explore  the  rocks  of  Cromarty."  The  Old  Red  Sandstone  was  at 
this  time  a  comparatively  unknown  region  to  geologists,  and  the 
palaeontological  discoveries  to  which  Miller  was  feeling  his  way  excited 
the  keenest  interest.  Dr.  John  Malcolmson,  who  had  recently 
arrived  in  this  country  from  India,  visited  Cromarty,  discussed  geo- 
logical problems  with  Hugh,  and  examined  with  him  the  geological 
sections  of  the  neighborhood.  The  Cromarty  geologist  began  to 
correspond  with  Sir  Roderick,  then  Mr.  Murchison,  and  with  M. 
Agassiz.  Fleming  was  at  this  time  professor  of  natural  science  in 
King's  College  and  University,  Aberdeen,  and  he  hastened  to  Cro- 
marty to  look  with  the  only  eyes  he  ever  trusted  in  matters  of  obser- 
vation, his  own,  into  the  wonders  of  Eathie  burn  and  Marcus  cave. 
It  was  doubtless  of  great  service  to  Miller  at  this  stage  in  his  geo- 


476  HUGH    MILLER. 

logical  studies  to  be  brought  into  converse  with  the  author  of  the 
"  Philosophy  of  Zoology,"  and  to  have  his  theories,  just  beginning 
to  shape,  overhauled  by  one  of  the  acutest,  most  searching,  most  phil- 
osophically skeptical  intellects  of  the  century.  His  controversy  with 
Dr.  Fleming  on  the  old  Scotch  coast-line,  the  existence  of  which  the 
latter  denied  to  the  last,  probably  commenced  at  this  period,  and 
twenty  years  afterwards,  when  the  eminence  and  authority  of  both 
were  acknowledged  in  the  Geological  Society  of  Edinburgh,  the 
debate  remained  unfinished.  But  in  none  of  its  stages  did  it  do  any 
thing  else  than  add  zest  to  the  cordiality  of  their  friendship.  Miller 
knew  how  to  value  the  trenchant  logic,  sharp  analysis,  and  severe 
inductive  cross-examination  of  Fleming ;  and  to  find  a  worthy  antag- 
onist whom  he  might  bring  under  the  raking  fire  of  his  argumenta- 
tive batteries  was  one  of  the  choicest  pleasures  Fleming  could  find  in 
life.  He  was  now  in  the  prime  of  his  faculties;  and  his  brilliant, 
incissive  talk,  touching,  often  with  caustic  humor,  on  a  thousand  men 
and  things,  is  remembered  by  Mrs.  Miller  as  very  pleasantly  enliven- 
ing their  quiet  life  in  Cormarty.  While  science  was  more  and  more 
absorbing  Mr.  Miller's  attention,  a  backward  glance  being  now  and 
then  given  to  literature,  he  did  not  cease  to  take  the  same  lively 
interest  as  hitherto  in  the  affairs  of  his  native  town. 

It  concerns  us  to  note  that  Miller  is  at  last  ready  to  take  flight  for 
Edinburgh.  On  the  23d  of  December  he  writes  to  Mr.  Dunlop  from 
Cromarty,  in  answer  to  a  note  from  that  gentleman  telling  him  that 
all  difficulties  have  been  vanquished,  and  that  the  sooner  he  appears 
in  Edinburgh  the  better.  "I  still,"  he  says,  "  feel  occasional  shrink- 
ings  of  heart  when  I  think  of  the  untried  field  on  which  I  am  so 
soon  to  enter.  'Tremble  thus  the  brave?'  asks  one  of  Ossian's 
heroes  when  on  the  eve  of  his  first  battle.  But  I  think  of  the  past 
and  take  courage, — of  the  past  in  my  country's  history,  with  its  clear, 
unequivocal  bearing  on  the  cause  in  which  I  am  to  be  engaged ;  on 
the  past,  too,  in  my  own  experience  of  life.  I  have  seen  much  of 
the  goodness  of  the  Almighty.  Twenty  years  ago  I  was  a  loose- 
jointed  boy,  in  rather  delicate  health,  taxed  above  my  strength  as  a 
laborer  in  a  quarry.  It  is  surely  a  much  better  thing  to  be  employed 
as  an  advocate  of  principles  which  I  have  ever  regarded  as  sacred, 
and  of  whose  importance  the  more  carefully  I  examine  I  am  con- 
vinced the  more." 

He  had  now  been  for  five  years  connected  with  the  bank,  and  this 
sufficed  to  place  him  behind  the  scenes  with  regard  to  all  business 
operations  in  the  district,  and  to  make  known  his  name  to  its  men 
of  capital.  -Hugh  Miller  was  already  a  public  man  in  the  north  of 
Scotland ;  and,  ere  he  departed  for  Edinburgh,  a  number  of  his 
friends  and  admirers  entertained  him  at  a  public  dinner  in  Cromarty, 
and  presented  him  with  a  tea-service  in  plate.  Seldom  has  a  demon- 
stration of  the  kind  attested  a  warmer  or  more  sincere  feeling  on  the 
one  hand,  or  been  more  honorably  earned  on  the  other.  Those  who 


THE  STONE  MASON  THE  PEOPLE'S  HERO.    477 

had  watched  Miller  most  closely,  and  who  knew  him  best,  stepped 
forward  to  declare  that  they  loved  him  and  considered  him  a  credit 
to  them. 

AT   THE    EDITORIAL   DESK,    ETC. 

In  the  last  days  of  1839,  Hugh  Miller  proceeded  to  Edinburgh  to 
edit  the  Witness.  He  stepped  into  the  arena  alone.  His  wife  and 
infant  daughter  he  left  for  the  present  at  Cromarty.  Taking  lodg- 
ings in  St.  Patrick's  Square,  in  the  old  part  of  the  town,  he  applied 
himself  with  ardor  and  assiduity  to  his  task.  "In  weakness  and  great 
fear,"  diffident  of  his  power  to  maintain  the  conflict  against  "well- 
nigh  the  whole  newspaper  press  of  the  kingdom,"  he  was  neverthe- 
less "  thoroughly  convinced  of  the  goodness  of  the  cause,"  and  willing 
to  devote  to  it  the  whole  energies  of  his  mind.  "I  found  myself," 
he  was  soon  able  to  say,  "in  my  true  place."  The  Witness  started 
with  a  circulation  of  about  six  hundred ;  but  the  high  character  of 
its  articles  at  once  attracted  attention,  and  it  became  evident  in  an 
exceedingly  brief  period  that  an  immense  accession  had  been  ma'de 
to  the  power  with  which  the  majority  in  the  church  acted  on  the 
body  of  their  countrymen.  And  from  the  first,  the  personality  of 
Hugh  Miller  was  felt  to  be  too  massive  and  original  to  be  absorbed 
in  the  anonymity  of  journalism.  The  voice  of  the  Witness  was 
known  to  be  his  voice,  and  the  name  of  Hugh  Miller  was  mentioned 
with  affectionate  enthusiasm,  as  that  of  the  people's  own  champion, 
who  among  the  laymen  of  the  conflict  was  what  Chalmers  was  among 
the  clergy.  Hugh  Miller — the  people's  friend,  champion,  hero  !  It 
was  appropriate  that  a  self-educated  man  should  speak  for  the  com- 
monalty of  Scotland.  It  suited  the  stubborn  independence  and  self- 
helping  vigor  of  the  race.  The  popular  imagination,  besides,  ready 
always  to  be  moved  by  adventitious  circumstances,  found  an  additional 
charm  and  picturesqueness  in  his  having  been  a  stone-mason,  one  who 
had  actually  "  bared  a  quarry,"  and  hewn  in  a  church-yard.  But  this 
rugged  plebeian,  who  stood  forth  to  fight  the  people's  battle,  was 
not  one  who  required  the  indulgence  of  refined  critics.  No  pen 
wielded  on  either  side  in  the  controversy  was  more  classic  than  that 
of  Hugh  Miller. 

He  shared  the  excitement  which  he  contributed  so  largely  to  pro- 
duce. Not  only  was  he  animated  by  the  clearest  sense  of  duty,  and 
profoundly  convinced  that  the  cause  was  that  of  conscience,  liberty, 
and  Scotland,  but  he  was  conscious  that  the  fray  was  not  without  its 
spectators.  "The  series  of  events  which  terminated  in  the  Disrup- 
tion " — the  words  are  his  own — "formed  a  great  and  intensely  excit- 
ing drama,  and  the  whole  empire  looked  on."  He  shared  the  ex- 
citement of  his  countrymen;  but  he  also,  it  need  scarcely  be  added, 
suffered  from  it.  Never  did  Hugh  Miller  toil  as  during  these  first 
three  months  of  his  editorship  of  the  Witness.  He  wrote  not 


478  HUGH     MILLER. 

merely  the  leading  articles,  but  a  large  proportion  of  the  remarks 
introductory  to  the  reports  of  public  meetings,  paragraphs  on  the  de- 
cease of  eminent  men,  and  so  on.  The  paper  was  puplished  twice  a 
week,  and  Miller  would  often  have  more  than  one  regular  leader  in 
each  number.  His  brother  combatants,  his  personal  friends,  the  buzz 
of  applause  arising  throughout  Scotland,  cheered  him  on.  In  nothing 
was  his  temperament  more  characteristically  the  temperament  of  a 
man  of  genius — of  literary  genius — than  in  his  susceptibility  to  the 
influence  of  praise.  It  was  once  truly  said  of  him  that  "  he  was  like 
a  horse  which  can  be  urged  by  the  voice  of  encouragement  beyond 
its  power  of  living  exertion."  Soon  also  the  new  paper  was  attacked 
by  one  or  other  of  its  many  rivals  of  the  opposite  side,  and  with  all 
his  gentleness  Miller  was,  when  roused,  a  terrible  foe.  Professor 
Massou  has  remarked  that  Hugh  Miller  never  engaged  in  contro- 
versial battle  without  not  merely  "slaying,  but  battering,  bruising, 
and  beating  out  of  shape"  his  antagonist.  But  the  moment  his 
enemy  was  vanquished  his  anger  died  away.  A  magistrate  of  Edin- 
burgh once  awakened  his  wrath.  He  thought  that  the  civic  digni- 
tary had  used  the  power  of  place  to  annoy  or  crush  a  more  honest 
man  than  himself,  and  there  was  a  pompousness  in  his  public  be- 
havior, and  a  meanness  in  some  of  his  money-making  practices,  care- 
fully disguised  from  the  public  eye,  which  gave  Miller  advantage  over 
him.  An  article  appeared  in  the  Witness  which  made  him  the 
laughing-stock  of  Edinburgh.  Next  day,  when  Miller  stepped  into  the 
publishing  office,  some  one  made  a  remark  on  the  severity  of  his  ar- 
ticle. "Ah,"  said  Miller,  in  his  calmest  tone, — a  very  dangerous 
tone, — "  I  have  another  shot  in  the  locker  for  the  baillie."  "  Really, 
Mr.  Miller,"  replied  the  first  speaker,  "I  think  you  ought  to  forbear. 

Baillie has  had  his  head  shaved."  Miller  left  the  second  shot 

in  the  locker. 

Few  controversialists  have  erred  less  on  the  side  of  severity  than 
Hugh  Miller,  none  perhaps  with  keener  contrition  when  he  found 
that  he  had  been  in  the  wrong.  He  told  Mrs.  Miller  that  he  found 
it  necessary  to  "abstract"  men  before  he  could  punish  them,  and 
that  "  the  sight  of  the  human  countenance,  if  it  had  but  a  tinge  of 
geniality,  so  softened  and  unmanned  him,"  that  he  could  not  shake 
off  the  thought  of  the  individual,  and  had  no  heart  to  attack  him. 

It  has  been  said  that  Miller,  as  editor  of  the  Witness,  felt  himself 
in  his  place.  The  stimulus  of  a  strong  excitement  was  useful  in  rous- 
ing his  mind  to  full  exertion,  and  in  dispelling  the  meditative,  pen- 
sive, almost  languid  mood  in  which,  in  the  stillness  of  Cromarty,  he 
might  have  indulged.  His  style,  after  he  came  to  Edinburgh,  com- 
pared with  that  of  the  "  Scenes  and  Legends,"  is  improved  in  energy 
and  fervor.  To  do  his  best,  he  required  to  be  moved ;  and  his  most 
powerful  compositions  are  his  earnest  newspaper  articles  and  the  letter 
to  Lord  Brougham.  Dr.  Guthrie  said  with  reference  to  the  article 
on  the  siege  of  Acre,  that  he  would  rather  have  written  it  than  taken 


HIS     EDITORIAL     LIFE. 


479 


the  fortress.  Doubtless,  also,  Miller  was  at  this  time  happy.  "He 
drank  delight  of  battle  with  his  peers."  Fervid  emotion  bathed  the 
frame-work  of  his  intellect  in  flame.  The  excitement  brought  its  own 
reward.  The  additional  power  and  keener  sympathetic  joy,  which  a 
great  agitation  produces,  more  than  compensate  for  the  daintier 
pleasures  of  the  intellectual  recluse.  But,  of  course,  in  his  heroic 
joy  there  is  a  burning  which  consumes  the  earthen  vessel.  While 
Miller  rejoiced  in  spirit  as  a  strong  man  to  run  a  race,  his  body  and 
brain  gave  unmistakable  evidence  that  the  pace  bore  hard  upon  him. 
Hour  after  hour  he  would  sit  writing,  until  the  letters  danced  before 
his  eyes  and  every  nerve  tingled  under  the  strain.  Heedless  of  ex- 
posure, and  working  deep  into  the  long  winter  nights,  he  caught 
influenza.  No  matter ;  he  would  not  pause ;  he  would  not  lay  aside 
the  pen  which  he  had  taken  up  in  the  cause  of  his  Church  and  his 
country.  The  giddiness  of  mere  exhaustion  became  the  semi-delirium 
which  accompanies  inflammatory  affections  of  the  lungs  and  pleura. 
Had  the  intense  excitement  of  the  conflict  been  suspended,  he  would 
probably  have  fallen  into  a  state  of  prostration  like  that  which  over- 
took his  father  in  the  sea-fight,  who  while  the  guns  continued  to 
roar  did  the  work  of  two  men,  and  when  they  ceased  fell  upon  the 
deck  more  feeble  than  a  child.  Miller  grew  haggard  in  the  conflict, 
but  he  never  flinched. 

The  darkest  hour,  however,  was  now  past,  and  streaks  of  dawn  ap- 
peared on  the  horizon.  In  April,  1840,  he  was  joined  by  Mrs.  Mil- 
ler, who  brought  with  her  their  infant  daughter,  Harriet.  It  was  a 
dark  and  dreary  evening  when  Mrs.  Miller  saw  his  figure,  in  gray 
suit  and  plaid,  looming  through  the  mist  on  Granton  pier.  Her 
presence,  she  found,  was  much  needed.  Miller  looked  ill,  and  his 
circumstances  were  comfortless.  His  sitting-room  was  dingy  with 
dust  and  littered  with  papers. 

So  deeply  had  Miller  felt  the  discomforts  of  his  situation  that, 
before  Mrs.  Miller's  arrival,  he  had  taken  a  small  house  in  Sylvan 
Place,  on  the  southern  or  country  side  of  the  Meadows. 

Hugh  Miller  modeled  his  newspaper  essays,  as  he  modeled  the 
chapters  of  his  books,  on  the  productions  of  his  beloved  Addison  and 
Goldsmith,  rather  than  on  those  of  the  "eminent  hands"  whose 
slashing  leaders  have  made  their  reputation  on  the  London  press.  It 
was  his  habit  to  fix  upon  his  subject  a  few  days,  or  even  longer,  be- 
fore the  article  was  to  appear,  and  nothing  pleased  him  better  than 
to  have  Mrs.  Miller  as  volunteer  antagonist,  to  maintain  against  him, 
at  the  supper  table,  the  thesis  he  proposed  to  controvert.  Supper 
was  his  favorite  meal.  At  breakfast  he  hardly  tasted  food,  a  cup  of 
coffee  and  crumb  of  bread  being  the  limit  of  his  wants.  After  work- 
ing at  his  desk  in  the  early  part  of  the  day,  he  would  walk  out,  make 
his  way  into  the  country,  saunter  about  the  hills  of  Braid  or  Arthur  Seat, 
with  his  eye  on  the  plants,  and  land  shells,  and  geological  sections, 
or  explore  for  the  thousandth  time  the  Musselburgh  shore  or  the  Gran- 


480  HUGH     MILLER. 

ton  quarries.  He  never  clearly  admitted  the  canonical  authority 
of  the  dinner  hour.  He  expected  something  warm  to  be  kept  ready 
for  him ;  but,  if  the  day  was  particularly  favorable,  or  if  a  storm  had 
strewn  the  coast  with  the  treasures  of  the  deep  sea,  or  if  some  new 
phenomenon  struck  him  in  connection  with  the  raised  beach  of  Leith 
and  required  interpreting  and  thinking  out,  or  if  he  met  with  a 
brother  naturalist  and  got  into  talk — the  shades  of  evening  would  be 
falling  thick  before  he  again  crossed  his  threshold.  Even  at  that 
hour  he  had  little  appetite.  It  was  not  until  his  brain,  obeying  what 
his  habits  of  night-study  had  made  an  irresistible  law  for  him,  awoke 
in  his  fervor  about  ten  o'clock,  that  he  showed  a  keen  inclination  for 
food.  Porter  or  ale,  with  some  kind  of  dried  fish  or  preserved  meat, 
formed  his  favorite  supper.  On  these  occasions  he  conversed  with 
great  freedom,  and  found  it  both  pleasant  and  profitable  to  have  his 
views  and  arguments  vigorously  controverted.  There  can  be  no 
doubt  that  the  extraordinary  success  of  many  of  his  articles, — the  re- 
peated case  of  their  being  the  town-talk  and  country-talk  of  the 
day, — was  due,  in  a  considerable  degree,  to  his  having  beaten  over 
the  ground  with  Mrs.  Miller. 

Hugh  Miller  conducted  the  Witness  for  sixteen  years,  and  he 
can  not  have  written  for  the  paper  fewer  than  a  thousand  articles. 
"  Admirable  disquisitions  on  social  and  ethical  questions,  felicities  of 
humor  and  sportive  though  trenchant  satire,  delicate  illustration  and 
racy  anecdote  from  an  inexhaustible  literary  erudition,  and  crystal  jets 
of  the  purest  poetry, — such  things  will  repay  the  careful  student  of 
the  Witness  file,  but  can  never  be  known  to  the  general  public." 

It  was  a  tragic  element  in  Miller's  lot  as  a  newspaper  editor  that 
he  had  no  particle  of  enthusiasm  for  the  press,  no  confidence  in  the 
newspaper  as  an  educating  agency.  He  has  put  it  on  record  that 
the  mechanics  he  had  known  whose  culture  consisted  in  life-long 
familiarity  with  ne'wspapers  were  uniformly  shallow  and  frivolous.  Of 
himself  he  has  spoken  as  doomed  to  cast  off  shaving  after  shaving 
from  his  mind,  to  be  caught  by  the  winds,  and,  after  whirling  lightly 
for  a  little  time,  to  be  blown  into  the  gulf  of  oblivion.  Perhaps  he 
did  not  enough  take  into  account  the  essentially  ephemeral  nature  of 
human  productions,  or  reflect  that  the  longest-lived  book  and  the 
newspaper  article  of  the  hour  are  alike  covered  up  one  day. 

"  The  memory  of  the  withered  leaf 
In  endless  time  is  scarce  more  brief 
Than  of  the  garnered  autumn  sheaf." 

Nay,  inasmuch  as  a  powerful  newspaper  writer  lodges  his  thoughts 
in  the  minds  of  men  engaged  in  affairs,  and  has  them  thus  woven 
into  the  web  of  events  and  the  fabric  of  institutions,  it  might  be  ar- 
gued that  he  least  of  all  toils  without  result  of  his  labors.  Hugh 
Miller,  at  any  rate,  looked  with  fixed  distrust  upon  journalistic  writing, 
•  both  as  culture  for  a  man's  own  mind  and  as  a  means  of  influencing 


CHURCH     DISRUPTION.  481 

his  fellows.  He  regarded  science  as  a  counteractive  to  the  deterior- 
ating effects  of  this  kind  of  work  upon  his  intellectual  powers. 

At  the  time  when  Hugh  Miller  undertook  the  editorship  of  the 
Witness,  the  sympathies  of  the  people  of  Scotland  had  been  to  but 
a  comparatively  slight  extent  awakened  and  secured  for  the  contend- 
ing Church.  A  vague  but  potent  impression  swayed  the  public  mind 
that  the  agitation  was  a  mere  clerical  affair.  "The  ministers  wanted 
power.  They  would  like  to  put  down  patrons  with  one  hand,  and 
to  silence  with  the  other  every  luckless  parson  who  did  not  vote  in 
the  Presbytery  and  preach  in  the  pulpit  as  the  Evangelical  majority 
were  pleased  to  dictate.  Perhaps  it  was  just  as  well  that  the  Court 
of  Session  should  keep  these  petulant  little  popes  in  their  own  places." 
No  man  did  so  much  to  dissipate  these  notions,  so  perilous  to  the 
movement,  as  Hugh  Miller.  The  Church  of  Scotland,  he  proclaimed, 
was  standing  once  more,  as  she  had  so  often  stood,  on  the  side  of 
the  people,  and  he  tore  to  shreds  the  flimsy  plea  that  the  dogs,  va- 
liantly defending  the  fold,  had  an  eye  only  to  their  class  interests. 
On  the  other  hand,  his  influence  was  mightily  exerted  to  prevent  the 
mere  ecclesiastical  element  from  assuming  that  predominance  which 
many  alleged  to  be  the  object  of  the  whole  struggle.  Hugh  Miller 
felt,  with  a  depth  and  solemnity  of  conviction  which  converted  the 
feeling  into  a  sentiment  of  duty,  that  the  Witness  was  to  be  the 
organ  of  no  clerical  party,  the  sounding-board  of  no  Church  Court, 
but  was  to  represent  the  movement  in  all  the  breadth  and  independ- 
ence of  its  national  characteristics. 

Within  the  present  century  no  day  has  dawned  on  Scotland  when 
the  heart  of  the  nation  was  so  profoundly  agitated  as  on  that  on 
which  the  majority  in  the  General  Assembly  of  1843  ^e^  St.  Andrew's 
Church  and  proceeded  to  Canonmill's  Hall. 

Among  those  who  were  assembled  in  Canonmill's  Hall  to  welcome 
the  Free  Church,  the  stalwart  form  and  great  shaggy  head,  and 
earnest,  thoughtful  features  of  Hugh  Miller  were  particularly  noticed. 
One  can  fancy  how  the  fire  would  glitter  in  his  moist  eye,  and  the 
enthusiasm  glow  on  his  face,  as  he  listened  to  words  like  these  in  the 
address  of  Chalmers:  "We  read  in  the  Scriptures,  and  I  believe  it 
will  be  found  true  in  the  history  and  experience  of  God's  people, 
that  there  is  a  certain  light,  and  joyfulness,  and  elevation  of  spirit 
consequent  upon  a  moral  achievement  such  as  this.  There  is  a  cer- 
tain felt  triumph,  like  that  of  victory  over  conflict,  attending  upon  a 
practical  vindication,  which  conscience  has  made  of  her  own  suprem- 
acy, when  she  has  been  plied  by  many  and  strong  temptations  to 
degrade  or  to  dethrone  her.  Apart  from  Christianity  altogether, 
there  has  been  realized  a  joyfulness  of  heart,  a  proud  swelling  of 
conscious  integrity,  when  a  conquest  has  been  effected  by  the  higher 
over  the  inferior  powers  of  our  nature;  and  so,  among  Christians  too, 
there  is  a  legitimate  glorifying,  as  when  the  disciples  of  old  gloried 
in  the  midst  of  their  tribulations,  when  the  spirit  of  glory  and  of 

3* 


482  HUGH    MILLER. 

God  rested  on  them,  when  they  were  made  partakers  of  the  Divine 
nature  and  escaped  the  corruption  that  is  in  the  world ;  or  as  when 
the  apostle  Paul  rejoiced  in  the  testimony  of  his  conscience.  But  let 
us  not  forget,  in  the  midst  of  this  rejoicing,  the  deep  humility  that 
pervaded  their  songs  of  exultation  ;  the  trembling  which  these  holy 
men  mixed  with  their  mjrth — trembling  arising  from  a  sense  of  their 
own  weakness;  and  then  courage,  inspired  by  the  thought  of  that  aid 
and  strength  which  were  to  be  obtained  out  of  His  fullness  who 
forme^i  all  their  boasting  and  all  their  defense." 

It  is  worthy  of  mention  that  the  name  "Free  Church  of  Scot- 
land ' '  appears  to  owe  its  origin  to  Hugh  Miller.  He  had  made  use 
of  it  in  articles  in  the  Witness  months  before  the  Disruption ;  and  his 
grand  anxiety  was  that  the  Free  Church  should  be,  in  all  respects 
save  that  of  formal  alliance  with  the  State,  the  old  Scottish  Church. 
Hugh  Miller  was  a  man  of  definite  opinions,  and  held  them  tena- 
ciously; but  he  was  not  devoid  of  that  capacity  of  growth,  which  is, 
perhaps,  the  ultimate  characteristic  of  great  minds.  Such  an  intel- 
lect as  his  could  not  become  a  fossil,  however  exquisitely  colored  and 
definitely  traced  might  be  the  markings  on  it.  As  a  man  of  science 
he  kept  the  gates  of  his  soul  grandly  open. 

THE    OLD    RED  SANDSTONE  —  LETTER   TO   A   CHILD FIRST   IMPRESSIONS 

OF    ENGLAND   AND    ITS    PEOPLE. 

Amid  the  stormful  enthusiasm  of  a  great  popular  conflict,  Hugh 
Miller  had  not  forgotten  the  serener  if  not  more  lofty  devotion  which 
had  inspired  him  as  a  servant  of  science.  "Of  Bacon,"  he  once 
wrote,  "I  never  tired;"  and  often,  probably,  when  the  excitement 
and  sword-clashing  of  polemical  battle  filled  the  air  around  him, 
would  that  vessel  rise  before  the  eyes  of  his  imagination,  which  Bacon 
saw,  speeding  on,  age  after  age,  across  calm  ocean  spaces  in 
search  of  light,  horizon  after  horizon  opening  before  her,  constella- 
tion after  constellation  kindling  in  her  skies.  And  now,  when  he 
had  been  for  the  better  part  of  a  year  editor  of  the  Witness,  he  ven- 
tured to  yield  to  the  prompting  of  his  heart,  and  to  recur  to  those 
geological  studies  which  had  been  his  delight  in  the  quiet  days  of 
Cromarty. 

On  the  Qth  of  September,  1840,  there  appeared  in  the  Witness 
the  first  of  a  series  of  articles  under  the  title,  "The  Old  Red  Sand- 
Stone."  There  were  seven  in  all,  each  occupying  two  or  three  col- 
umns. The  last  was  published  in  the  Witness  of  October  17,  1840. 
The  moment  was  propitious.  Hugh  Miller  could  state  in  the  outset 
that  the  Old  Red  Sandstone  formation  had  been  hitherto  considered 
as  remarkably  barren  in  fossils;  that  a  continental  geologist,  in  tabu- 
lating the  various  formations,  had  appeared  to  omit  this  one  alto- 
gether; and  that  Lyell,  whose  standard  work  on  the  "Elements  of 
Geology"  had  been  issued  two  years  previously,  had  devoted  but 


THE     OLD     RED     SANDSTONE.  483 

two  and  a  half  pages  to  its  description.  He  could  add  that  he  had 
"a  hundred  solid  proofs,"  lying  close  to  his  elbow,  that  the  fossils 
of  the  system  are  "remarkably  numerous."  Nor  were  they  less 
strange  than  they  were  abundant.  "The  figures  on  a  Chinese  vase 
or  an  Egyptian  obelisk  are  scarce  more  unlike  what  now  exists  in 
nature  than  the  fossils  of  the  lower  Old  Red  Sandstone."  They 
seemed  to  be  products  of  "nature's  apprenticeship." 

The  importance  of  the  Old  Red  Sandstone,  as  part  of  the  geological 
record,  had  begun  to  be  surmised  by  naturalists;  and  remarks  like 
these  were  fitted  to  awaken  the  curiosity  of  the  general  public.  The 
ear  of  the  world,  therefore,  was  open  for  the  word  which  Hugh  Mil- 
ler could  speak.  Before  September  had  closed,  his  reputation  as  a 
geologist  was  made.  On  the  23d  day  of  that  month  the  British  Asso- 
ciation for  the  Advancement  of  Science  held  its  annual  meeting.  In 
the  Geological  Section,  Mr.  Lyell  in  the  chair,  Miller's  discoveries 
were  brought  under  the  attention  of  leading  geologists.,  Mr.  Mur- 
chison,  now  Sir  Roderick,  spoke  in  terms  of  high  eulogy  of  his  per- 
severance and  ingenuity  in  the  geological  field,  declared  that  he  had 
raised  himself  to  a  position  which  any  man  might  envy,  pointed  to 
the  specimens  forwarded  by  him  to  London,  and  invited  M.  Agassiz 
to  describe  the  class  to  which  they  belonged.  The  distinguished  French- 
man followed  in  a  similar  strain,  and  proposed  to  name  one  of  the 
most  remarkable  specimens  "Pterichthys  Milleri."  Dr.  Buckland's 
enthusiasm  knew  no  bounds.  He  "had  never  been  so  much  aston- 
ished in  his  life  by  the  powers  of  any  man  as  he  had  been  by  the 
geological  descriptions  of  Mr.  Miller.  That  wonderful  man  described 
these  objects  with  a  felicity  which  made  ;him  ashamed  of  the  com- 
parative meagerness  and  poverty  of  his  own  descriptions  in  the 
'Bridgewater  Treatise,'  which  had  cost  him  hours  and  days  of  labor. 
He  would  give  his  left  hand  to  possess  such  powers  of  description 
as  this  man."  It  was,  in  Dr.  Buckland's  view,  " another  proof  of 
the  value  of  the  meeting  of  the  Association,  that  it  had  contributed 
to  bring  such  a  man  into  notice." 

There  is  something  fine  in  this  spectacle  of  the  magnates  of  science 
welcoming  with  glad  acclaim  a  brother  who,  coming  at  one  stride 
from  the  quarry,  makes  out  his  title  to  rank  as  one  of  them.  Men 
of  letters  were  almost  equally  astonished  at  the  performance  of  the 
Cromarty  stone-mason.  The  benefit  which  Miller  had  derived  from 
his  long  discipline  in  literary  composition  was  now  evident.  Into 
the  description  of  bare  and  rigid  organism  be  could  throw  a  fascina- 
tion which  charmed  every  lover  of  literary  form.  Here  was  a  self- 
educated  man,  who  had  educated  himself  not  to  mere  copiousness  of 
glittering  words,  but  to  the  chastened  strength,  the  subtle  modulation, 
the  placid-beaming  clearness,  of  a  classic.  Every  page  spoke  of  ripe 
thought  and  confirmed  intellectual  habits. 

The  "  Old  Red  Sandstone,"  which,  in  the  following  year,  appeared 
in  the  form  of  a  book,  was  the  first  literary  work  executed  by  Miller 


484  HUGH    MILLER. 

in  the  maturity  of  his  power.  It  stands  at  the  head  of  a  series  of 
unique  and  remarkable  books  with  which  he  permanently  enriched 
English  literature, — books  in  which  the  results  of  face  to  face  inspec- 
tion of  nature,  in  the  quarried  hill-side  or  on  the  ribbed  sea-shore, 
are  interwoven  with  fresh,  racy,  sagacious  judgments  on  men  and 
manners ;  books  in  which  observations  distinguished  by  exquisite 
scientific  accuracy  furnish  the  ground-plan  for  landscapes  over  which 
is  poured  the  softest,  ruddiest  glow  of  imaginative  coloring.  The 
nature  of  Hugh  Miller's  imaginative  power  is  characteristically  ex- 
hibited in  this  work.  His  imagination  is  bold,  yet  its  audacity  is  al- 
ways restrained  by  reference  to  ascertained  fact.  Its  pictures  are 
never  vague.  If,  as  one  critic  remarked,  his  fossil  fishes  "swim  and 
gambol,"  they  do  so  as  the  mind's  eye  of  Hugh  Miller,  after  severe 
inspection  and  long  gaze  into  the  past,  had  seen  them  swim  and  gam- 
bol in  primeval  seas.  If  the  stone  branch  budded  like  a  rod  of 
Aaron  on  his  page,  and  forests,  breaking  from  their  sepulchres  in  the 
rock,  grew  green  again  in  the  sunlight  and  rustled  in  the  wind,  it 
was  not  that  an  oriental  fancy  delighted  in  clothing  phantom  hills 
with  visionary  foliage,  but  because  the  science  of  the  West  had  put 
into  his  hand  a  lamp  which  lighted  for  him  the  long  vistas  of  bygone 
time.  This  species  of  imagination  is  the  most  valuable  which  a 
scientific  man  can  possess,  and  without  it  no  man,  however  accurate 
his  observation,  however  just  his  conception  of  individual  facts,  can 
be  great  in  science.  True  workers  in  science  are  of  three  kinds,  in 
ascending  order  of  excellence, — the  accurate  observer  and  compiler  ; 
the  sound  generalizer;  and  the  seer  of  nature,  who  first  observes, 
then  generalizes,  and  lastly  illuminates  his  generalizations  so  that 
they  become  visions.  There  were  many  geologists  of  his  time  who, 
having  devoted  themselves  exclusively  to  science  for  nearly  as  many 
years  as  Hugh  Miller  lived,  traversed  wider  fields  of  observation  and 
attained  a  greater  acquaintance  with  fact ;  but  not  the  most  distin- 
guished of  his  contemporaries  surpassed  him  in  those  august  operations 
of  the  mind,  which  may  be  claimed  indifferently  for  science  and  for 
poetry. 

Viewed  in  relation  to  the  dimensions  of  the  field  it  covers,  the 
"Old  Red  Sandstone"  of  Hugh  Miller  is  a  comprehensive  account 
of  the  formation  as  it  appears  in  Scotland.  The  journeyman  mason 
presented  to  the  world  of  science  a  monograph  on  one  of  the  chief 
rock-systems  of  his  country,  and  it  proved  to  be  an  imperishable 
masterpiece.  On  that  division  of  the  Old  Red  which  is  exhibited 
at  Cromarty,  and  to  which  Miller  had  special  access,  it  was  almost 
exhaustive.  He  added  little  afterwards  to  his  discoveries  in  the 
Cromarty  beds,  and  no  other  eye  has  been  keen  enough  to  detect  in 
them  any  thing  else  of  importance.  Subsequent  research  has  proved 
that  what  he  regarded  as  the  Lower  Old  Red  is  the  middle  division 
of  the  system.  In  relation  to  the  Old  Red  Sandstones  of  the  southern 
shores  of  the  Moray  Frith  and  of  Fife,  Perth,  and  Forfar  the  book 


THE    OLD    RED     SANDSTONE.  485 

was  necessarily  less  complete  at  its  first  appearance ;  but  even  of 
these  it  presented  a  distinct,  and,  in  the  main  outlines,  a  correct 
account,  and  when  Miller  put  his  finishing  touches  to  it  in  later 
editions, '  it  could  claim  to  be  the  standard  work  on  the  Scottish  Old 
Red.  Sir  Roderick  Murchison  has  since  demonstrated  that  the  geo- 
logical position  of  the  conglomerate  of  the  Western  Highlands  is  in 
the  Silurian  system.  But  this  would  not  have  surprised  Hugh  Miller, 
who  entertained  doubts  upon  the  subject. 

With  every  year  of  his  life  his  skill  and  care  as  a  geological  ob- 
server increased,  but  the  keen  and  exquisite  discernment  he  had  already 
attained  may  be  illustrated  by  a  fact  which  can  be  stated  in  his  own 
words.  "After  carefully  examining  many  specimens,"  he  wrote  in 
1855,  "I  published  a  restoration  of  both  the  upper  and  under  side 
of  pterichthys  fully  fifteen  years  ago.  The  greatest  of  living  ichthy- 
ologists, however,  misled  by  a  series  of  specimens  much  less  complete 
than  mine,  differed  from  me  in  my  conclusions ;  and  what  I  had  rep- 
resented as  the  creature's  under  or  abdominal  side,  he  represented 
as  its  upper  or  dorsal  side ;  while  its  actual  upper  side  he  regarded 
as  belonging  to  another,  though  closely  allied,  genus.  I  had  no  op- 
portunity, as  he  resided  on  the  Continent  at  the  time,  of  submitting 
to  him  the  specimens  on  which  I  had  founded ;  though,  at  once  cer- 
tain of  his  thorough  candor  and  love  of  truth,  and  of  the  solidity  of 
my  data,  I  felt  confident  that,  in  order  to  alter  his  decision,  it  was 
but  necessary  that  I  should  submit  to  him  my  evidence.  Meanwhile, 
however,  the  case  was  regarded  as  settled  against  me ;  and  I  found 
at  least  one  popular  and  very  ingenious  writer  on  geology,  after  re- 
ferring to  my  description  of  the  pterichthys,  going  on  to  say  that, 
though  graphic,  it  was  not  correct,  and  that  he  himself  could  describe 
it  at  least  more  truthfully,  if  not  more  vividly,  than  I  had  done. 
And  then  there  followed  a  description  identical  with  that  by  which 
mine  had  been  supplanted.  Five  hears  had  passed,  when  one  day 
our  greatest  British  authority  on  fossil  fishes,  Sir  Philip  Egerton,  was 
struck,  when  passing  an  hour  among  the  ichthyic  organisms  of  his 
princely  collection,  by  the  appearance  presented  by  a  central  plate 
in  the  cuirass  of  the  pterichthys.  It  is  of  a  lozenge  form ;  and,  oc- 
cupying exactly  such  a  place  in  the  nether  armature  of  the  creature 
as  that  occupied  by  the  lozenge-shaped  spot  on  the  ace  of  diamonds, 
it  comes  in  contact  with  four  other  plates  that  lie  around  it,  and 
represent,  so  to  speak,  the  white  portions  of  the  card.  And  Sir 
Philip  now  found  that,  instead  of  lying  over,  it  lay  under,  the  four 
contiguous  plates ;  they  overlapped  it,  instead  of  being  overlapped 
by  it.  This,  he  at  once  said,  on  ascertaining  the  fact,  can  not  bo 
the  upper  side  of  the  pterichthys.  A  plate  so  arranged  would  have 
formed  no  proper  protection  to  the  exposed  dorsal  surface  of  the 
creature's  body,  as  a  slight  blow  would  have  at  once  sent  it  in  upon 
the  interior  frame-work  ;  but  a  proper  enough  one  to  the  under  side 
of  a  heavy  swimmer,  that,  like  the  flat  fishes,  kept  close  to  the  bot- 


486  HUGH     MILLER. 

torn  ;  a  character  which,  as  shown  by  the  massive  bulk  of  its  body, 
and  its  small  spread  of  fin,  must  have  belonged  to  the  pterichthys. 
Sir  Philip  followed  up  his  observations  on  the  central  plate  by  a 
minute  examination  of  the  other  parts  of  the  creature's  armature ;  and 
the  survey  terminated  in  a  recognition  of  the  earlier  restoration — set 
aside  so  long  before — as  virtually  the  true  one; — a  recognition  in 
which  Agassiz,  when  made  acquainted  with  the  nature  of  the  evidence, 
at  once  acquiesced."  This  is  the  kind  of  fact  which  proves  consum- 
mate practical  ability  of  that  character  which  can  not  be  derived 
from  books. 

We  may  here  take  in  a  letter  written  by  Miller,  about  the  time 
when  the  "Old  Red  Sandstone"  was  getting  into  circulation  as  a 
book,  to  a  little  boy  whom  he  had  known  in  Cromarty.  It  contains 
a  few  details  as  to  his  history  at  the  time  which  can  not  be  presented 
to  the  reader  so  pleasantly  in  any  other  way,  and  it  adds  one  other 
illustration  to  the  many  we  have  already  had  of  his  gentle,  playful, 
sympathetic  manner  with  children. 

"  EDINBURGH,  5  SYLVAN  PLACE,  Sept.  8,  1841. 

"Mv  DEAR  ALIE  MUNRO:  —  I  will  tell  you  how  it  was  that  I  did 
not  reply  to  your  kind  letter  last  spring.  It  was  all  in  consequence 
of  another  letter  which  I  received  only  two  days  after  I  received  it, 
and  which  entirely  put  it  out  of  my  mind  for  the  time.  This  other 
letter  was  a  Cromarty  letter  ;  and  it  informed  me  that  my  poor  mother 
was  very,  very  ill,  and  that  unless  I  hurried  north  to  see  her,  I  might 
never  see  her  more.  And  so  I  did  hurry  away  north,  with  the  very 
first  coach  that  set  out,  and  was  one  day  and  two  nights  on  the 
road.  I  found  my  mother  much  better  than  my  fears  had  antici- 
pated, for  the  disease  that  threatened  her  life  had  taken  a  favorable 
turn ;  and  ere  I  parted  from  her,  which  was  in  about  a  week  after, 
she  was  well-nigh  recovered.  Meanwhile  however,  I  had  forgotten 
your  letter.  Now  I  know,  my  dear  Alie,  you  will  forgive  me  when 
you  take  all  this  into  your  grave  consideration.  My  journey  was  a  very 
unpleasant  and  sad  one,  so  sad  and  unpleasant  that  one  might  almost 
make  an  agreeable  story  out  of  it.  Wrecks  and  battles,  you  know, 
make  good  subjects  for  stories ;  and  the  worse  and  more  unpleasant 
the  wreck  or  battle,  just  all  the  better  is  the  story.  So  long  as  I  was 
with  the  coach  I  had  nothing  worse  than  sad  thoughts  and  very  bad 
weather  to  annoy  me.  From  Fortrose  to  Cromarty,  however,  I  had  to 
grope  my  way  as  if  I  had  been  playing  all  the  way  at  blind-man's- 
buff.  Never  yet  have  I  been  out  in  so  dark  a  night.  I  had  to  feel 
for  the  road  with  my  staff,  and  I  discovered  on  two  or  three  occa- 
sions that  I  had  got  off  it  only  by  tumbling  into  the  ditch.  It  was 
at  least  three  hours  after  midnight  ere  I  reached  my  journey's  end. 

"  I  saw  Aunt  and  Uncle  Ross  in  Cromarty,  and  Cousin  Mora. 
Cousin  Mora  is  a  smart,  pretty  little  girl.  But  I  dare  say  you  will 


LETTER    TO     A    CHILD.  487 

deem  my  news  of  the  north  somewhat  old,  and  there  is  no  denying 
that  it  is  less  new  now  than  it  was  six  months  ago.  It  is  not  so  old, 
however,  by  a  great  deal,  as  the  news  you  gave  me  about  the  battle 
of  Hastings  ;  and  I  of  late  have  been  giving  much  older  news  to  the 
public  in  a' book  on  the  Old  Red  Sandstone.  You  remind  me,  dear 
Alie,  of  the  stones  and  fossils  which  I  used  to  point  out  to  you  on 
the  shore  of  Cromarty.  I  have  written  a  whole  book  about  them, 
with  curious  looking  prints  in  it — the  portraits  of  fish  that  lived  so 
very  long  ago,  that  there  were  no  men  in  the  world  at  the  time  to 
give  them  names.  But  they  have  all  got  names  now,  stiff-looking 
Greek  names,  which  only  scholars  can  understand.  One  of  them  has 
been  named  after  me,  Pterichthys  Milleri,  which  means  Miller's 
winged  fish,  and  I  send  you  prints  of  it  that  you  may  see  what  a 
strange-looking  creature  it  was.  By  the  way,  have  you  got  great 
chalk  cliffs  at  Hastings?  There  are  very  curious  fossils  found  in 
chalk,  sea-eggs,  of  a  kind  no  longer  found  alive,  spindle-shaped 
stones,  called  Belemnites,  other  stones  called  Ammonites,  that  re- 
semble coiled  snakes,  cockle-like  shells  with  spines  on  their  backs, 
and  a  great  many  other  curious  things  besides  that  were  once  living 
creatures. 

"I  trust  you  will  remember  me  to  Aunt  Munro,  whose  kindness  to 
me  in  Cromarty  I  very  often  remember,  and  who  has  since  been  very 
kind  to  my  sister  Jane.  I  dare  say  that  my  answering  your  letter, 
though  at  this  late  time,  I  have  made  her  lose  her  wager.  You  know 
lose  it  she  must,  if  there  was  no  particular  time  specified.  I  am 
very,  very  busy  in  these  days,  thinking,  reading,  writing,  beating  one 
day,  beaten  the  next ;  called  a  blockhead  at  one  time  without  believ- 
ing it,  believing  it  at  another  without  being  called  it ;  living,  in  short, 
a  hurried,  bustling,  fighting  sort  of  life.  It  is  very  seldom  I  can 
command  leisure  enough  to  write  letters,  and  sometimes  when  I  have 
the  leisure  I  want  the  will.  But  you  see  I  have  at  length  written  to 
you,  and  had  it  not  been  for  one  circumstance,  of  which  I  have 
already  told  you,  I  would  have  written  you  six  months  ago.  I  have 
a  little  daughter  who  helps  me  at  times  in  putting  wrong  my  papers, 
books,  and  fossils.  She  has  got  language  enough  to  call  a  dog  bow- 
wow, and  a  cat  mew ;  and  when  she  sees  a  fossil  she  points  to  it, 
and  calls  it  'papa's  fish.'  She  had  a  philosophical  desire  long  ago 
to  ascertain  whether  the  flame  of  a  candle  might  not  taste  and  feel 
as  pleasantly  as  it  looked ;  but  she  is  no  longer  curious  on  this  head. 
I  sometimes  sing  to  her,  and  she  seems  much  pleased  with  my  music— 
a  thing  no  one  ever  was  before.  I  am  afraid,  however,  that  her 
mother  will  spoil  her  just  and  simple  taste  in  this  matter;  but  know 
not  how  to  prevent  it.  And  now,  my  dear  Alie,  I  have  come  to  the 
close  of  my  letter.  It  is  not  long,  you  see;  but  there  is  a  good  deal 
of  nonsense  in  it  for  all  that.  I  would  like  very  much  to  be  a  little- 
boy  once  more;  but  alas,  I  am  a  big  man,  and  can  not  play  myself 


488  HUGH     MILLER. 

so  much  or  so  often  as  I  could   wish.     Some  of  my  reddish-brown 
hair  is  actually  getting  gray.     I  am,  my  dear  boy, 

"  Your  affectionate  friend, 

"  HUGH  MILLER." 

There  is  perhaps  no  work  of  Miller's  by  which  the  general  reader 
can  better  judge  him  than  his  "  First  Impressions  of  England  and  its 
People."  The  subject  has  the  look  of  being  hackneyed  beyond  all 
chance  of  effective  writing ;  yet  the  book,  I  venture  to  say,  is  one  of 
the  most  fresh  and  charming  in  the  language.  The  materials  were 
gathered  in  eight  weeks  of  autumnal  wandering  through  England  in 
1845,  and  the  composition  occupied  the  leisure  hours  of  a  hard- 
worked  editor  for  six  months.  Yet  how  admirable  is  the  style  ! 
With  what  subtle  felicity  does  it  combine  the  dignity  of  elaborate 
literary  form  with  perfect  ease  and  freedom !  And  how  completely 
do  we  feel,  as  we  read,  that  we  are  in  converse  with  a  cultivated 
mind  !  The  treasures  which  Miller  had  been  accumulating  since  he 
was  six  years  old — the  impressions,  facts,  reflections,  fancies  of  life- 
long observation  and  study — flow  out  upon  the  page  in  stintless  yet 
chaste  abundance,  absolutely  without  straining  or  parade.  There  is 
no  gaudy  metaphoric  daubing,  no  wearisome  drawing  out  of  simili- 
tudes, but  the  right  illustration,  brief  and  happy,  always  comes  in  at 
the  right  place,  and  the  nice,  bright  word  of  metaphor,  like  the 
honey-touch  on  the  lip  of  Jonathan  when  he  was  weary,  never  fails. 

Of  Miller's  power  as  a  critic,  the  passage  in  this  book  recounting 
his  visit  to  the  birth-place  of  Shakespeare,  as  well  as  several  others, 
furnish  ample  proof,  and  the  sketch  of  the  younger  Littleton  is  man- 
aged with  great  adroitness  and  lightness  of  touch.  .  .  .  The 
Scotchman  is,  of  course,  seen  peeping  from  beneath  his  plaid  as  he 
journeys  through  England.  "To  my  eye,"  he  says,  "  my  country- 
men—and  I  have  now  seen  them  in  almost  every  district  of  Scotland — 
present  an  appearance  of  rugged  strength  which  the  English,  though 
they  take  their  place  among  the  more  robust  European  nations,  do 
not  exhibit."  But  if  he  dearly  loves  to  put  in  a  good  word  for 
Scotland,  he  can  do  justice  to  England.  "  Scotland  has  produced 
no  Shakespeare ;  Burns  and  Sir  Walter  Scott  united  would  fall  short 
of  the  stature  of  the  giant  of  Avon.  Of  Milton  we  have  not  even  a 
representative.  .  .  .  Bacon  is  as  exclusively  unique  as  Milton, 
and  as  exclusively  English ;  and,  though  the  grandfather  of  Newton 
was  a  Scotchman,  we  have  certainly  no  Scotch  Sir  Isaac." 

Miller's  acknowledgment  of  what  he  owed  to  the  literature  of 
England,  suggested  by  his  visit  to  Poet's  Corner  in  Westminster 
Abbey,  is  beautiful  and  strictly  autobiographic.  u  I  had  no  strong 
emotions,"  he  says,  with  signal  honesty,  "  to  exhibit  when  pacing 
along  the  pavement  in  this  celebrated  place,  nor  would  I  have  ex- 
hibited them  if  I  had."  The  reader  will  feel  that  deep  and  true 
emotion  pervades  the  words  which  follow.  "Here  was  poor  Gold- 


THOUGHTS    ON     ENGLISH     AUTHORS.  489 

smith  ;  he  had  been  my  companion  for  thirty  years ;  I  had  been  first 
introduced  to  him  through  the  medium  of  a  common-school  collection, 
when  a  little  boy  in  the  humblest  English  class  of  a  parish  school, 
and  I  had  kept  up  the  acquaintance  ever  since.  There,  too,  was 
Addison,  whom  I  had  known  so  long,  and,  in  his  true  poems,  his 
prose  ones,  had  loved  so  much  ;  and  there  were  Gay,  and  Prior, 
and  Cowley,  and  Thomson,  and  Chaucer,  and  Spenser,  and  Milton  ; 
and  there,  too,  on  a  slab  on  the  floor,  with  the  freshness  of  recent 
interment  still  palpable  about  it,  as  if  to  indicate  the  race  at  least 
not  long  extinct,  was  the  name  of  Thomas  Campbell.  I  had  got 
fairly  among  my  patrons  and  benefactors.  How  often,  shut  out  for 
months  and  years  together  from  all  literary  converse  with  the  living, 
had  they  been  almost  my  only  companions, — my  unseen  associates, 
who,  in  the  rude  work-shed,  lightened  my  labors  by  the  music  of 
their  numbers,  and  who,  in  my  evening  walks,  that  would  have  been 
so  solitary  save  for  them,  expanded  my  intellect  by  the  solid  bulk 
of  their  thinking,  and  gave  me  ey,es,  by  their  exquisite  descriptions, 
to  look  at  nature!  How  thoroughly,  too,  had  they  served  to  break 
down  in  my  mind  at  least  the  narrow  and  more  illiberal  partialities 
of  country,  leaving  untouched,  however,  all  that  was  worthy  of 
being  cherished  in  my  attachment  to  poor  old  Scotland !  I  learned 
to  deem  the  English  poet  not  less  my  countryman  than  the  Scot,  if 
I  but  felt  the  true  human  heart  beating  in  his  bosom ;  and  the  in- 
tense prejudices  which  I  had  imbibed,  when  almost  a  child,  from  the 
fiery  narratives  of  Blind  Harry  and  of  Barbour,  melted  away,  like 
snow-wreaths  from  before  the  sun,  under  the  genial  influences  of  the 
glowing  poesy  of  England.  It  is  not  the  harp  of  Orpheus  that  will 
effectually  tame  the  wild  beast  which  lies  ambushing  in  human  nature, 
and  is  ever  and  anon  breaking  forth  on  the  nations,  in  cruel,  deso- 
lating war.  The  work  of  giving  peace  to  the  earth  awaits  those 
Divine  harmonies  which  breathe  from  the  Lyre  of  Inspiration,  when 
swept  by  the  Spirit  of  God.  And  yet  the  harp  of  Orpheus  does 
exert  an  auxiliary  power.  It  is  of  the  nature  of  its  songs, — so  rich  in 
the  human  sympathies,  so  charged  with  the  thoughts,  the  imaginings, 
the  hopes,  the  wishes,  which  it  is  the  constitution  of  humanity  to 
conceive  and  entertain, — it  is  of  their  nature  to  make  us  feel  that 
the  nations  are  all  of  one  blood, — that  man  is  our  brother,  and  the 
world  our  country." 

"Sir,  you  have  an  eye,"  was  what  English  critics  said  when  Mil- 
ler's chapters,  detailing  his  impressions,  were  published  in  the  columns 
of  the  Witness.  A  Birmingham  editor,  ignorant  as  to  Miller,  and 
fancying,  for  what  reason  I  know  not,  that  he  was  a  "dominie," 
quoted  passages  descriptive  of  Birmingham  and  its  district,  and  said 
that  the  writer  must  be  a  very  remarkable  man,  since  he  had  seen 
a  great  deal  which  had  escaped  the  observation  of  the  natives,  but 
which,  on  its  being  pointed  out  to  them,  they  also  could  see.  Mr. 
William  Drummond,  then  sub-editor  of  the  Witness,  and  an  esteemed 


49°  HUGH     MILLER. 

.  I 

friend  of  Miller's,  showed  him  the  article  in  the  Birmingham  paper, 
and  he  had  a  hearty  laugh  at  it.  Truth  to  speak,  he  had  an  eye 
that  was  worth  its  place  in  a  man's  head  ;  searching,  inevitable,  keen, 
swift,  sure  ;  which  gathered  information  at  every  moment  and  in  all 
places,  to  be  hoarded  up  in  the  cells  of  a  memory  which  seems  never 
to  have  lost  an  atom  of  the  store. 

It  is  impossible  not  to  see  that  Miller's  heart  warmed  to  England 
every  day  he  continued  within  her  borders.  He  was  surprised  with 
the  frankness,  and  ready  hospitality,  and  generosity  of  the  people. 
The  fact  clearly  is,  broad  as  was  his  accent  and  plain  his  garb,  that 
he  had  in  England,  as  elsewhere,  an  irresistible  charm  for  every  one 
who  came  near  him. 

SCIENCE  AND   RELIGION. 

"  Such  is  the  state  of  progression  in  geological  science  that  the  ge- 
ologist who  stands  still  but  for  a  very  little  must  be  content  to  find 
himself  left  behind."  The  words  are  Hugh  Miller's, — they  occur  in 
his  preface  to  the  first  edition  of  the  "Old  Red  Sandstone."  Their 
application  is  of  course  peculiarly  forcible  to  the  geologist  whose  ac- 
tivity has  been  arrested  by  death.  No  man  can  do  more  than  his 
own  piece  of  work  in  science,  and  the  question  on  which  our  estimate 
of  the  merit  of  a  scientific  worker  must  depend,  is  not  whether  he 
penetrated  to  the  limits  of  any  one  province  in  nature,  or  uttered 
the  final  and  absolute  truth  as  to  any  one  of  nature's  laws  and  pro- 
cesses, but  whether  he  did  the  work  he  professed  to  do  faithfully, 
honestly,  and,  to  the  point  to  which  he  carried  it,  thoroughly. 

As  science  continues  to  advance,  the  several  positions  taken  up  by 
Hugh  Miller,  in  prosecuting  the  sublime  enterprise  of  proving  the  ex- 
istence and  illustrating  the  character  of  God  from  his  works,  may 
or  may  not  prove  tenable.  Without  question  some  of  them  would 
now  be  abandoned  by  the  most  eminent  geologists.  On  taking  the 
chair  as  President  of  the  Royal  Physical  Society  of  Edinburgh,  in 
1852,  he  enunciated  the  following  proposition:  "There  is  no  truth 
more  thoroughly  ascertained  than  that  the  great  Tertiary,  Secondary, 
and  Palaeozoic  divisions  represent,  in  the  history  of  the  globe,  periods  as 
definitely  distinct  and  separate  from  each  other  as  the  modern  from  the 
ancient  history  of  Europe,  or  the  events  which  took  place  previous 
to  the  Christian  era  from  those  that  in  the  subsequent  centuries  which 
we  reckon  from  it.  All  over  the  globe,  too,  in  the  great  Palaeozoic 
division,  the  Carboniferous  system  is  found  to  overlie  the  system  of 
the  Old  Red  Sandstone,  and  that,  in  turn>  the  widely  developed  Sil- 
urian system."  Having  spoken  thus  without  evoking  one  dissentient 
symptom  in  his  audience,  he  could  expect  an  affirmative  answer  to 
the  question  which  he  proceeded  to  put  :  "I  would  ask  such  of  the 
gentlemen  whom  I  now  address  as  have  studied  the  subject  most 
thoroughly,  whether, — at  those  grand  lines  of  division  between  the 


SCIENCE    AND     RELIGION.  49! 

Palaeozoic  and  Secondary,  and  again  between  the  Secondary  and  Ter- 
tiary periods,  at  which  the  entire  type  of  organic  being  alters,  so  that 
all  on  the  one  side  of  the  gap  belongs  to  one  fashion,  and  all  on  the 
other  to  another  and  wholly  different  fashion, — whether  they  have 
not  been  as  thoroughly  impressed  with  the  conviction  that  there  ex- 
isted a  Creative  Agent,  to  whom  the  sudden  change  was  owing,  as  if 
they  themselves  had  witnessed  the  miracle  of  Creation  ? ' ' 

Professor  Huxley  now  declares  that  "  for  any  thing  that  geology  or 
palaeontology  are  able  to  show  to  the  contrary,  a  Devonian  fauna  and 
flora  in  the  British  Islands  may  have  been  contemporaneous  with 
Silurian  life  in  North  America,  and  with  a  Carboniferous  fauna  and 
flora  in  Africa.  Geographical  provinces  and  zones  may  have  been  as 
distinctly  marked  in  the  Palaeozoic  epoch  as  at  present,  and  those 
seemingly  sudden  appearances  of  new  genera  and  species,  which  we 
ascribe  to  new  creation,  may  be  simple  results  of  migration." 

The  tendency  of  scientific  research  throughout  every  province  of 
nature  has  been  to  obliterate  lines  of  demarkation,  and  to  show, 
stretching  beyond  us  into  the  infinitude  both  of  time  and  space,  im- 
measurable curves  and  undulations  of  unity.  The  definite  proofs 
afforded  by  spectrum  analysis  of  the  sameness  of  matter  throughout 
the  solar  and  stellar  expanses"  marked  a  stage  of  sublime  advancement 
in  our  conception  of  the  harmony  of  things ;  and  correspondences, 
indubitable  though  mysterious,  between  terrestrial  magnetism,  the 
spots  of  the  sun,  and  those  systems  of  aerolites  which  have  recently 
attracted  so  much  of  the  attention  of  philosophers,  suggest  that  the 
unities  of  nature  are  as  intimate  and  as  wonderful  as  her  diversities. 

Miller  was  in  the  same  line  of  battle  with  his  ablest  scientific  con- 
temporaries. How  he  would  have  comported  himself  if  he  had  lived 
to  see  the  publication  of  Mr.  Darwin's  work  on  the  "  Origin  of 
Species,"  to  witness  its  reception  throughout  the  world  of  science,  to 
follow  the  lines  of  research  and  speculation  to  which  it  pointed  the 
way,  we  need  not  inquire.  This,  however,  I  will  venture  to  say : 
first,  that  he  would  have  distinctly  declared,  as,  indeed,  he  did  with 
reference  to  the  old  theory  of  development,  that  Mr.  Darwin's  doc- 
trine has  no  necessary  affinity  with  atheism ;  secondly,  that  he  would 
have  subjected  the  facts  and  reasonings  of  Mr.  Darwin  and  his  fol- 
lowers to  a  scrutiny  more  searching  than  they  have  yet  received ;  and 
thirdly,  that,  if  he  had  found  them  incontrovertible,  he  would,  with- 
out a  moment's  hesitation,  have  proclaimed  his  assent  to  them.  His 
reverence  for  God's  truth  was  infinitely  deeper  than  his  regard  for 
his  own  conception  of  it.  That  truth  he  would  accept,  howsoever 
and  whensoever  it  was  revealed,  conscious  that  the  willful  misreading 
of  nature  is  a  sin  against  Him  whose  ordinance  nature  is.  Strange 
imagination,  that  the  Ineffable  One  is  less  honored  by  reverent  cau- 
tion and  hesitation — by  childlike  fingering  among  the  letters  of  his 
name  and  childlike  diffidence  in  spelling  it  out — than  by  vociferous 
dogmatism  on  the  subject !  Hugh  Miller  dared  not  force  his  con- 


492  HUGH     MILLER. 

science  to  lie  to  God  by  bribing  his  intellect  to  lie  for  God.  His 
writings  on  those  high  questions  which  belong  to  the  border-land 
between  science  and  theology  have  a  perennial  value,  not  because 
of  the  finality  of  their  matter,  but  because  of  the  Tightness  of  their 
manner.  With  true  reverence  and  sterling  integrity,  he  discoursed 
of  the  relations  between  physical  and  moral  law  in  this  universe,  and 
the  reciprocal  bearings  of  God's  revelation  of  himself  in  matter  and 
by  matter — his  works ;  and  his  revelation  of  himself  in  mind  and  by 
mind — his  word. 

Familiar  as  Miller  was  with  the  tremendous  reasonings  of  Hume's 
"Dialogue's  on  Natural  Religion,"  he  was  not  one  to  take  refuge  in 
the  amiable  platitudes  of  the  Rose  Matilda  school,  or  to  wrap  him- 
self from  the  lightnings  in  garlands  of  flowers.  He  would  not  have 
shrunk  from  admitting,  in  all  that  width  of  extension  and  precision 
of  application  which  Mr.  Darwin  and  his  school  have  shown  to  be- 
long to  it,  the  law  of  pain  throughout  the  world  of  life.  Survival 
of  the  stronger,  with  extermination  of  the  weaker  by  famine  and 
anguish,  he  would,  I  think,  have  allowed  to  be  the  law  of  physical 
nature.  He  would,  at  the  same  time,  have  maintained  that  "a  grad- 
ual progress  towards  perfection,"  though,  as  Mr.  Huxley  points  out, 
it  forms  no  necessary  part  of  the  Darwinian  creed,  is  revealed  in 
nature.  He  would  have  dwelt  with  Goethe  on  the  fact  that  death 
itself  is  but  a  subtle  contrivance  by  which  more  life  is  obtained. 
Above  all,  he  would  have  insisted,  as  neither  Hume,  Goethe,  nor 
Darwin  have  insisted,  upon  sin  as  an  explanation  of  misery;  and  upon 
the  promise  of  redemption  and  immortality  through  Christ,  as  send- 
ing a  stream  of  celestial  radiance  far  up  into  the  hollow  of  the  terres- 
trial night. 

In  his  latest  work,  the  "Testimony  of  the  Rocks,"  he  expounded 
the  Age  theory  of  Mosaic  geology  with  admirable  breadth  and  lucid- 
ity ;  and  it  is  generally  admitted  that  this  is  the  sole  hypothesis  which 
can  now  be  maintained  with  any  show  of  plausibility  by  those  who 
hold  Christian  theologians  bound  to  furnish  a  scheme  of  reconcilia- 
tion between  geology  and  Genesis. 

Hugh  Miller  maintained  the  entire  independence  of  science.  "No 
scientific  question,"  he  says,  "was  ever  yet  settled  dogmatically,  or 
ever  will  be.  If  the  question  be  one  in  the  science  of  numbers,  it 
must  be  settled  arithmetically ;  if  in  the  science  of  geometry,  it  must 
be  settled  mathematically ;  if  in  the  science  of  chemistry,  it  must  be 
settled  experimentally.  ...  As  men  have  yielded  to  astronomy 
the  right  of  decision  in  all  astronomical  questions,  so  must  they  re- 
sign to  geology  the  settlement  of  all  geological  ones."  Again: 
"The  geologist,  as  certainly  as  the  theologian,  has  a  province  exclu- 
sively his  own ;  and  were  the  theologian  ever  to  remember  that  the 
Scriptures  could  not  possibly  have  been  given  to  us  as  revelations  of 
scientific  truth,  seeing  that  a  single  scientific  truth  they  never  yet  re- 
vealed, and  the  geologist  that  it  must  be  in  vain  to  seek  in  science 


LATER  YEARS  AS  EDITOR.  493 

those  truths  which  lead  to  salvation,  seeing  that  in  science  these  truths 
were  never  yet  found,  there  would  be  little  danger  even  of  difference 
among  them,  and  none  of  collision." 

THE   LAST  EDINBURGH    PERIOD. 

The  life  of  Hugh  Miller,  so  varied  and  eventful  in  its  early  period, 
formed  no  exception,  in  the  ten  years  preceding  its  close,  to  that 
placid  uniformity  which  proverbially  characterizes  the  lives  of  liter- 
ary men,  and  which  precludes  detailed  description. 

During  those  years  he  conducted  the  Witness  with  steady  and 
ever-broadening  success,  speaking  his  weighty  word  on  every  impor- 
tant question  as  it  arose,  and  widely  accepted  as  a  guide  of  opinion. 
-.'  •*  .  .  The  words  of  Miss  Dunbar,  that  the  day  was  coming  when  his 
country's  greatest  would  court  his  acquaintance,  had  been  literally 
fulfilled,  and  there  was  no  circle  in  Edinburgh  or  in  London  which 
would  not  have  felt  itself  honored  by  his  presence.  In  the  commu- 
nications addressed  to  him  by  men  of  rank  or  reputation,  it  was  as- 
sumed as  a  matter  of  course  that  his  place  was  among  the  intellectual 
aristocracy  of  his  time,  and  that  he  was  one  of  those  whose  acquaint- 
ance conferred  distinction.  Again  and  again  did  the  Duke  of  Argyll 
solicit  the  honor  of  a  visit  from  Miller,  resting  his  hope  of  a  favorable 
reply,  not  on  his  own  aristocratic  birth,  but  oh  community  of  scien- 
tific interests  and  pursuits.  The  difficulty  was  to  overcome  that  feel- 
ing on  the  part  of  Miller  which  we  found  himself  describing  as  dif- 
fidence, but  which  is,  perhaps,  insufficiently  characterized  by  the 
term;  a  feeling  which  partook  little  of  self-distrust,  and  still  less  of 
haughty  coldness,  but  consisted  principally  in  a  shy  and  sensitive  re- 
serve, a  consciousness  that  his  mental  instruments  could  work  per- 
fectly only  in  their  owij  placid  atmosphere.  He  was  totally  devoid 
of  ambition  to  shine  in  mixed  and  fashionable  society.  On  the 
whole,  I  should  say  that  the  word  "shyness"  most  correctly  describes 
the  quality  in  Hugh  Miller  which  led  him  inexorably  though  cour- 
teously to  decline  invitations  like  that  of  the  Duke  of  Argyll. 

He  was  not  a  man  to  have  many  intimate  friends,  and  few  indeed 
of  those  whom  he  knew  subsequently  to  coming  to  Edinburgh  did 
he  take  to  his  heart  with  that  impassioned  ardor  of  affection  which 
marked  his  Cromarty  friendships. 

PERSONAL  RECOLLECTIONS   OF   A  LADY. 

"When  his  family  came  to  town,  it  was  with  no  common  pleasure  that 
I  recognized  in  Mrs.  Miller  a  young  lady  who  had  been  a  class-fel- 
low of  mine.  This  led  me  frequently  to  her  house  and  gave  me  the 
opportunity  of  seeing  her  husband,  and  my  admiration  of  and  interest 
in  him  increased  every  time  I  met  him.  There  could  be  no  greater 
or  more  exciting  pleasure  than  to  converse  with  Hugh  Miller.  He 


494  HUGH     MILLER. 

did  not  harangue,  but  conversed,  and  raised  those  with  whom  he  did 
so  for  the  time  to  his  own  level.  One  felt  amazed  to  hear  one's  own 
trifling  remarks  made  the  means  of  bringing  out  his  stores  of  obser- 
vation and  thought;  and  if  by  good  fortune  one  brought  to  his  notice 
some  to  him  yet  unknown  fact  or  quotation  from  the  poets,  to  whose 
'  terrible  sagacity'  he  loved  so  often  to  refer,  it  was  indeed  gratifying 
to  see  the  look  of  pleased  attention  with  which  he  listened.  It 
seemed  as  if  he  could  not  but  be  thinking,  and  that  every  thing 
brought  grist  to  his  mill,  set  going  some  new  train  of  thought,  or 
confirmed  some  old  one.  Then,  of  course,  there  were  all  the  excit- 
ing subjects  of  the  time — a  time  never  to  be  forgotten  by  those  who 
lived  in  it,  and  shared  the  principles  and  emotions  of  those  engaged 
in  the  struggle  which  ended  in  the  formation  of  the  Free  Church. 

"In  the  end  of  1848  I  happened,  when  calling  on  Mrs.  Miller  in 
Stuart  street,  to  hear  that  her  husband  was  giving  some  little  lectures 
on  geology  to  a  few  lady  friends,  and  I  was  most  kindly  invited  to 
join  the  party.  We  met  on  Saturday  forenoons,  and  sat  round  a 
table  on  which  he  had  arranged  some  specimens  to  illustrate  what  he 
was  going  to  tell  us  about.  These  lectures  were  the  germs  of  those 
he  afterwards  delivered  before  the  Philosophical  Institution,  and 
which  have  been  published  under  the  title  of  the  '  Sketch-book  of 
Popular  Geology.'  Any  one  who  reads  that  volume  may  see  how 
pleasant  as  well  as  instructive  they  were.  But  it  can  not  convey  the 
interest  of  being  taught  by  sw^h  a  teacher,  who  thought  no  question 
too  trivial  to  be  answered,  and  explained  himself  by  all  manner  of 
illustrations,  homely  or  otherwise,  but  always  comprehensible  and  dis- 
tinct; while  over  every  thing  his  imagination  threw  an  endless  charm, 
and  his  earnest  faith  a  deeper  interest.  His  manner  to  women  I 
always  thought  particularly  good — wholly  wanting  in  flattery,  but  full 
of  gentle  deference.  Our  meetings  frequently  ended  by  our  enjoying 
Mrs.  Miller's  hospitality  and  society  at  luncheon,  when  we  witnessed 
the  same  gentle  manner  in  his  own  family,  and  various  little  inci- 
dents which  showed  his  strong  parental  love.  As  spring  came  on 
our  lectures  took  place  in  the  open  air  instead  of  in  Mrs.  Miller's 
drawing-room,  and  we  had  some  charming  walks  to  shores  and  quar- 
ries in  the  neighborhood  of  Portobello,  and  to  Salisbury  Crags  and 
Arthur  Seat,  where  the  Queen's  Drive  had  been  lately  opened,  and 
afforded  us  many  illustrations  of  what  we  had  learned  from  him  dur- 
ing the  winter.  Never  was  geology  more  pleasantly  studied. 

"  We  spent  a  few  weeks  that  autumn  in  the  neighborhood  of  Mel- 
rose,  and,  having  asked  him  to  visit  us  on  the  banks  of  Tweed,  I 
had  the  following  note  from  him : 

"'EDINBURGH,  2  STUART  STREET,  2 ist  August,  1849. 

"  '  Your  kind  note  reached  me  as  I  was  engaged  on  the  last  article 
for  the  Witness  which  I  shall  write  for  at  least  several  weeks.  The 


FOOTPRINTS  OF  THE  CREATOR.          495 

completion  of  my  book*  has  at  length  set  me  at  liberty;  on  Thurs- 
day I  leave  by  the  Wick  Steamer  for  the  extreme  north ;  and  on  the 
Saturday,  to  which  your  kind  invitation  refers,  I  shall  be  sauntering, 
if  the  voyage  be  a  prosperous  one,  not  along  the  soft-wooded  banks 
of  the  Tweed,  but  along  the  bleak  crags  that  overlord  the  Pentland 
Firth.  Your  river  has  all  the  beauty  on  its  side,  but  the  broad  Pent- 
land  with  its  roaring  eddies  is  by  far  the  more  magnificent  river  of 
the  two.  My  book  will  not  be  fairly  published  until  Saturday  first ; 
but  on  Saturday  last  I  did  myself  the  pleasure  of  forwarding  copies 
to  all  my  lady  pupils,  though  I  am  not  sure  that  your  copy  has  got 

further  than  C street.     You  will,  I  suspect,  find  the  pure  geology 

of  it  rather  dry ;  but  in  the  concluding  chapters,  more  especially  in 
the  last  taken  in  connection  with  the  chapter  on  the  degradation  prin- 
ciple, you  will,  I  think,  find  some  thoughts  that  will  interest  you.  A 
man  who  merely  refutes  an  error,  if  it  be  an  ingenious  one  and  suited 
to  fill  the  imagination,  does  only  half  his  work.  The  void  created 
ought  to  be  filled  with  something  as  novel  and  curious  as  that  which 
has  been  taken  away ;  and  in  the  chapters  to  which  I  refer  I  attempt 
embodying  a  theory  compensating  for  the  development  one.  I  had 
a  note  yesterday  from  Mrs.  Miller.  She  was  well  when  it  was  writ- 
ten, and  in  spirits,  and  just  emerging  from  the  bustle  of  a  Free- 
Church-Manse  marriage.' 

"  He  seemed  to  feel  an  increase  of  kindness  to  us,  his  '  lady  pupils,' 
after  that  pleasant  season.  My  recollections  of  him  at  Stuart  street 
are  fragmentary. 

"In  the  summer  of  1856  there  was  an  archaeological  collection 
exhibited  in  Edinburgh.  In  the  beginning  of  August  I  went  there 
early  the  last  day  it  was  open,  and  came  upon  Hugh  Miller  looking 
at  the  ethnographical  department.  He  told  me  he  had  been  ill,  and 
was  then  on  his  way  home  after  a  week's  recreation.  I  expressed 
surprise  at  this,  as  I  thought  I  had  noticed  his  hand  in  the  Wit- 
ness during  the  past  month.  He  said  I  was  right,  but  that  he  had 
written  these  articles  during  the  time  of  the  Assembly.  After  look- 
ing with  him  for  a  little  at  the  stone  and  bronze  weapons,  I  went 
further  to  look  at  some  portraits  of  Mary  Stuart,  and  at  a  print  to 
which  he  directed  my  attention — the  print  which  was  the  subject  of 
conversation  when  the  boy  Walter  Scott  met  Robert  Burns.  As  I 
returned  I  found  Hugh  Miller  standing  by  Robert  Bruce's  sword, 
which  had  been  placed  in  an  upright  position  in  the  center  of  the 
gallery.  He  measured  it,  and  then,  turning  to  me,  recited  from  the 
'  Lord  of  the  Isles '  the  lines  referring  to  it.  Lord  Elgin  had  sent 
the  sword,  and  were  speaking  of  his  being  of  the  same  family  as  the 
king,  when  Hugh  Miller  told  the  story  of  the  old  Scotch  lady  of  the 
name,  who,  on  being  asked  if  she  was  of  King  Robert  Bruce's  family, 
answered  that  the  king  was  of  her  family. 

«M.  W." 
*  Footprints  of  the  Creator 


496  HUGH     MILLER. 

At  Cromarty  and  Linlithgow,  Miller,  as  we  saw,  was  an  indefati- 
gable and  voluminous  correspondent.  In  Edinburgh,  penning  two 
or  three  leading  articles  per  week,  and  with  a  book  generally  on 
hand,  he  required  no  further  vent  for  his  literary  productiveness,  and 
wrote  no  such  letters  as  those  which  it  formally  had  been  his  delight 
to  pour  forth.  He  told  his  friends  that  they  must  consider  the  Wit- 
ness a  bi-weekly  letter  from  him,  and  confined  his  epistolary  perform- 
ances to  notes  of  reply  to  invitations,  brief  answers  to  geological 
querists,  and  the  like.  In  this  rapid  fashion  he  corresponded — if 
correspondence  it  can  be  called — with  a  very  large  proportion  of  the 
most  eminent  scientific  men  of  his  time.  Professors  Owen,  Agassiz, 
Sedgwick,  Sir  Charles  Lyell,  Sir  David  Brewster,  Mr.  Mantell,  occur 
to  me  at  the  moment  as  among  those  who  compared  notes  with  him 
as  a  scientific  peer  and  fellow-worker. 

A  few  extracts  may  be  taken  from  the  letters  sent  to  Mrs.  Miller 
during  the  English  tour ;  but  as  he  made  large  use  of  those  letters 
in  preparing  the  "First  Impressions,"  we  must  glean  sparingly: 

"OLNEY,  pth  September,  1845. 

"  Here  I  am  in  a  quiet  old  inn,  kept  by  a  quiet  old  man  who  re- 
members 'Squire  Cowper  and  Mrs.  Unwin ;  and  in  the  early  part  of 
the  day  I  walked  the  walk  described  by  the  'Squire  in  the  '  Task/ 
with  an  old  woman  of  seventy-one  for  my  guide,  for  whose  schooling 
Mrs.  Unwin  had  paid.  She  knew  the  Lady  Hesketh,  too,  and,  when 
a  little  thing,  used  to  get  coppers  from  her.  A  kindly  lady  was  the 
Lady  Hesketh  ;  there  are  no  such  ladies  nowadays — that  is,  at  Wes- 
ton  Underwood,  I  suppose.  She  used  to  put  coppers  into  her  little 
silk  bag  every  time  she  went  out,  in  order  to  make  the  children  whom 
she  met  happy.  She  and  Mrs.  Unwin,  too,  were  remarkably  good  to 
the  poor.  I  walked  with  the  old  woman,  much  entertained  with  her 
gossip,  through  the  stately  colonnade  of  limes  whose  '  obsolete  pro- 
lixity of  shade '  the  poet  has  celebrated,  and  which  is  in  sober  truth 
a  very  notable  thing,  on  to  the  '  alcove,'  and  from  thence  to  the 
'  rustic  bridge,'  and  then  on  through  the  field  with  the  chasm  in  the 
center  of  it,  into  which  the  sheep  of  the  fable  proposed  throwing 
themselves,  to  '  Yardley  Oak.'  Then  returning  by  another  road,  I 
passed  by  the  *  peasant's  nest,'  and  after  making  the  old  woman 
happy  with  half  a  crown,  parted  from  her  and  struck  down  to  the 
Ouse,  a  sluggish,  sullen  stream  fringed  with  reeds  and  rushes,  that 
winds  through  flat,  dank  meadows,  on  which  a  rich  country  looks 
down  on  either  side.  I  saw  the  broad  leaves  of  the  water-lilies  bob- 
bing up  and  down  in  the  current,  but  the  lilies  themselves  were  gone. 
By  the  way,  my  old  guide  knew  not  only  the  'squire  and  the  two 
ladies,  Mrs.  Unwin  and  the  Lady  Hesketh,  but  also  the  little  dog 
Beau,  and  a  pretty  little  dog  he  was,  with  a  good  deal  of  red  about 
him. 

"  Directly  opposite  Cowper 's  house  in  Weston  Underwood  I  picked 


AT    SHAKESPEARE'S    HOME.  497 

up  a  fossil  pecten  and  terebratula,  and  bethought  me  of  his  denuncia- 
tions of  the  geologists, — who,  to  be  sure,  in  his  days  were  a  sad  in- 
fidel pack.  .  .  .  Immediately  behind  the  garden  is  the  snug 
parsonage-house  —  the  home  in  succession  of  John  Newton  and 
Thomas  Scott — and  the  parish  church  in  which  they  both  preached, 
a  fine,  solid  structure,  with  a  tall,  handsome  spire,  closes  the  vista  in 
this  direction. 

"So  much  for  Olney.  The  greater  part  of  yesterday  I  spent  in 
Stratford-on-Avon,  where  I  saw  both  the  birthplace  and  grave  of 
'  William  Shakespeare,  Gentleman,' — have  you  ever  heard  of  such  a 
person  ?  The  birthplace,  a  low-browed  room,  under  the  beams  of 
which  one  can  barely  walk  with  one's  hat  on,  is  not  half  a  mile  re- 
moved from  the  burial-place.  The  humbly  born  boy  was  a  purpose- 
like  fellow,  and  returned  to  his  native  town  a  gentleman,  and  to  get 
himself  a  grave  among  its  magnates  in  the  chancel  of  the  church. 
By  the  way,  in  utter  defiance  of  fine  taste  and  fine  art,  I  pronounce 
the  humble  stone  bust,  his  monument,  incomparably  superior  to  all 
the  idealized  likenesses  of  him,  whether  done  on  canvas  or  on  mar- 
ble, that  men  of  genius  have  yet  produced.  The  men  of  genius 
make  him  a  wonderfully  pretty  fellow,  with  poetry  oozing  out  of  every 
feature;  but  their  Shakespeare  would  never  have  been  'William 
Shakespeare,  Gentleman?  neither,  in  the  times  of  Elizabeth  and 
James,  when  money  was  of  such  value,  would  he  have  returned  to 
his  native  village  a  man  of  five  hundred  a  year.  The  Shakespeare 
of  the  stone  bust  is  the  true  Shakespeare ;  the  head,  a  powerful  mass 
of  brain,  would  require  all  Chalmers'  hat ;  the  forehead  is  as  broad, 
more  erect,  and  of  much  more  general  capacity ;  and  the  whole  coun- 
tenance is  that  of  a  shrewd,  sagacious  man,  who  could,  of  course,  be 
poetical  when  he  willed  it — rather  more  so  than  any  body  else — but 
who  mingled  wondrous  little  poetry  in  his  every-day  business.  The 
man  whom  the  stone  bust  represents  could  have  been  Chancellor  of 
the  Exchequer,  and  in  opening  the  budget  his  speech  would  embody 
many  of  the  figures  of  Cocker,  judiciously  arranged,  but  not  one 
poetical  figure. 

"You  speak,  dearest,  of  temperament,  and  the  difficulty  of  bear- 
ing up  against  it  by  any  mere  effort  of  the  will  when  it  is  adverse  to 
small,  but  not  unimportant,  every-day  duties.  I  know  somewhat  of 
that  difficulty  from  experience  in  myself;  willing  may  do  much,  but 
it  will  not  change  nature,  or  convert  uphill  work  into  downhill.  But 
I  trust  we  shall  both  get  on,  bearing  and  forbearing,  with  a  solid 
stratum  of  affection  at  bottom.  I  have  been  conscious,  since  my  late 
attack,  of  an  irritability  of  temper,  which  is,  I  hope,  not  natural  to 
me,  and  which,  when  better  health  comes,  will,  I  trust,  disappear.  I 
keep  it  down  so  that  it  gives  no  external  sign ;  since  I  entered  Eng- 
land it  has  found  no  expression  whatever;  but  I  am  very  sensible  of 
it,  especially  after  passing  a  rather  sleepless  night.  To-day  I  am  in 
a  very  genial  humor,  the  entire  secret  of  which  is  in  the  excellence 
32 


498  HUGH     MILLER. 

of  last  night's  rest,  induced,  I  think,  by  the  fatigue  of  the  previous 
day.  I  mention  the  thing  merely  in  corroboration  of  your  remark — 
we  can  not  be  independent  of  the  animal  part  of  us.  I  am  a  good 
boy  to-day  because  I  slept  well  last  night,  but  I  was  not  so  good  a 
boy  a  week  since,  for  my  nerves  were  out  of  order,  and  my  sleep 
had  been  bad. 

"  By  the  way,  you  said  nothing  in  your  last  about  Harriet.  Tell 
her  that  I  have  put  a  kiss  in  the  heart  of  this  round  O,  which  she 
must  try  to  bring  out  of  it.  This  is  a  fine  country  for  nuts,  and  I 
must  get  some  for  her  Halloween,  brought  to  Archibald  Place.  I  did 
not  get  to  the  Liverpool  meeting.  .  .  .  From  the  tone  of  the 
dissenting  papers  here  regarding  it,  I  have  lost  all  hope  of  its  pro- 
ducing aught  except  bad  speeches.  Voluntaryism  has  eaten  the  very 
pith  out  of  Dissent ;  like  a  goodly  tree  eaten  by  white  ants,  it  will 
yield  to  the  first  shock  of  the  tempest." 

This  note  to  his  mother-in-law,  on  occasion  of  the  birth  of  his 
son  Hugh,  is  worth  printing  on  account  of  the  autobiographic  touch 
respecting  his  own  birth,  and  the  characteristically  mournful  reflec- 
tion which  follows. 

"2  STUART  ST.,  EDINBURGH, 

"  4  o'clock,  Thursday  Afternoon. 

"The  doctor  has  just  been  with  us,  and  he  is  well  pleased  with  the 
appearance  of  both  mother  and  child.  Baby,  in  his  introduction 
into  the  world,  had  a  sore  struggle  for  life ;  and  in  pugilist's  phrase, 
but  with  a  deeper  meaning  than  theirs  was  about  five  minutes  '  deaf  to 
time. '  Accidents  can  scarce  be  hereditary ;  but  my  mother  has  told 
me  that,  when  making  my  debut,  I  refused  to  breathe  for  a  still  longer 
period.  Were  all  the  future  known  to  the  little  entrants,  such  refusals 
would,  I  dare  say,  be  more  common  than  they  are,  and  more  dog- 
gedly persisted  in." 

Miller  was  particularly  gratified  by  terms  in  which  the  gift  of  the 
"Footprints"  was  acknowledged  by  Professor  Owen,  and  quotes,  in 
the  following  letter,  to  a'lady,  the  passage  in  which  the  work  was 
mentioned  by  that  eminent  philosopher: 

"  Unpopular  as  I  suppose  my  little  book  was  to  prove,  the  first 
thousand  has  gone  off  bravely,  and  I  am  passing  a  second  through 
the  press.  Some  of  the  letters  regarding  it  are  of  a  very  gratifying 
character.  One,  in  special,  from  the  first  comparative  anatomist  in 
the  world  (Richard  Owen),  is  singularly  warm  hearted  and  cheering; 
and,  as  you  will  not  set  it  down  to  the  score  of  vulgar  vanity,  I  must 
just  give  you  an  extract,  partly  in  order  to  show  you,  as  one  of  my 
pupils,  that  I  was  not  mistaken  in  supposing  that  the  least  popular 
portions  of  my  book  would  be  exactly  those  to  which  a  certain  class 
of  students  would  attach  most  interest :  '  I  have  just  received  and, 
setting  all  other  things  aside,  devoured  your  Asterolepis  of  Strom- 
ness.  I  find  it  not  so  hard  and  indigestible  as  it  may  prove  to  the 


SECRETARY    OF    BRITISH    ASSOCIATION.  499 

Vestigesians.  I  have  been  instructed  and  delighted  by  it.  I  have 
also  derived  a  heartfelt  encouragement  from  it.  It  is  almost  the  first 
contemporary  work  in  which  I  have  found  some  favorite  ideas  of  my 
own  weighed  out  and  pronounced  upon.  This  cheers  one  up  after 
the  despondency  that  will,  in  spite  of  reason,  creep  over  one  through 
the  blank  silence  in  which  one's  favorite  works  are  received  by  those 
in  whose  especial  behoof  they  have  been  cogitated  and  printed.  I 
allude  to  the  host  of  estimable  anatomists,  anthropotomists,  and  Zo- 
ologists that  we  live  and  move  against  in  our  scientific  cotteries  of 
London.'  This,  you  will  agree  with  me,  is  worth  whole  volumes  of 
ignorant  criticism ;  a  newspaper  reviewer,  very  favorable  in  the  main, 
speaks  of  my  'rather  tedious  introduction;'  it  was,  however,  not  for 
newspaper  reviewers,  but  for  men  such  as  Professor  Owen  that  that 
introduction  was  written ;  and  the  professor,  you  see,  does  not  deem 
it  tedious." 

In  the  autumn  of  1850,  the  annual  meeting  of  the  British  Associa- 
tion for  the  Advancement  of  Science  was  held  in  Edinburgh.  In 
the  beginning  of  June  the  following  note  from  Sir  Roderick  Murchi- 
son  reached  Miller : 

"  1 6  BELGRAVE  SQUARE,  May  31,  1850. 

"At  a  meeting  of  the  Council  of  the  British  Association  held  yes- 
terday I  was  named  President  of  Section  C  (or  Geology  and  Geo- 
graphy), with  yourself  and  James  Nicol  as  secretaries  for  our  special 
science,  and  with  A.  Keith  Johnstone  for  geography. 

"As  I  moved  that  you  be  placed  in  this  office,  and  as  my  motion 
passed  unanimously  (and  indeed  with  acclamation  in  a  full  meeting, 
Professor  Kelland  from  Edinburgh  being  present),  I  trust  you  will 
not  allow  any  thing  to  prevent  your  accepting  it.  I  honestly  confess 
that  no  honor  could  be  more  gratifying  to  me  than  to  occupy  the 
geological  chair  in  my  native  country;  and  if  I  know  that  the  author 
of  the  '  Old  Red  Sandstone'  will  be  one  of  the  secretaries,  I  shall  be 
still  more  proud,  for  I  consider  that  we  come  from  the  same  nook  of 
land,  the  Black  Isle  and  Cromarty  being  inseparable." 

He  replied  as  follows: 

"  Accept  my  best  thanks  for  the  great  and  unexpected  honor  you 
have  done  me  in  proposing  me  as  one  of  the  secretaries  for  the  Geo- 
logical Section  of  the  British  Association  at  its  coming  meeting.  I 
am  afraid  my  qualifications  for  the  office  are  not  of  the  highest  kind ; 
my  newspaper,  too  will  engage  much  of  my  time,  and  my  health  for  the 
last  few  years  has  not  been  very  strong ;  but  I  feel  that  I  could  scarce 
decline  the  appointment  without,  at  least,  appearing  to  fail  in  respect 
to  the  Council  of  the  Association  and  in  gratitude  to  you.  I  shall, 
therefore,  do  my  best  to  fulfill  its  duties,  trusting  that  the  good-nature 
of  the  Association  may  excuse  my  shortcomings,  and  the  activity  and 
business  habits  of  my  coadjutor,  Professor  Nicol,  more  than  compen- 
sate for  them.  I  have,  I  think,  some  curious  things  to  set  before  the 


500  HUGH     MILLER. 

English  Geologists  illustrative  of  the  first  ages  of  ganoidal  existence — 
fossils  either  without  duplicate,  or  in  a  better  state  of  keeping  than 
elsewhere — which  may  serve  to  show  them  that  at  least  one  of  the 
pages  of  the  geological  record  (that  which  you  were  the  first  to  open) 
is  more  fully  and  clearly  written  in  the  rocks  of  our  native  country 
than  in  perhaps  those  of  any  other.  My  set  of  the  remains  of  the 
Asterolepis  is,  in  particular,  very  curious  and,  I  believe,  unique ;  and, 
though  I  do  not  know  that  I  can  say  much  regarding  them  in  addi- 
tion to  what  I  have  already  said  in  my  little  work  'The  Footprints,' 
it  may  be  something  to  verify  and  illustrate  by  fossils  so  rare  and 
little  known  what  in  the  work  I  had  to  illustrate  by  but  a  set  of 
greatly  reduced  wood-cuts. 

Hugh  Miller  was  a  tenderly  affectionate  parent,  and  never  did  he 
display  the  least  severity  to  his  children  until  he  became  ill  the  last 
year  of  his  life.  One  or  two  specimens  may  be  given  of  the  letters 
which,  when  absent  on  his  geological  tours,  he  used  to  address  to 
them  : 

TO   HIS   SON  WILLIAM.* 

CROMARTV,  August  24th,  1851. 

"  On  the  morning  of  Saturday  I  rose  at  five  o'clock,  and  set  out 
on  foot  (from  Assynt)  on  my  way  to  the  Low  Country,  with  the 
purpose  of  examining  the  marble  quarries  of  Ledbey  ere  the  mail-gig, 
with  which  I  was  to  travel,  should  come  up.  The  morning  was 
lovely  beyond  description.  While  all  was  in  deep  shade  in  the 
valleys,  the  tops  of  the  tall  mountains  gleamed  like  fire  to  the  rising 
sun ;  and  Loch  Assynt,  that  seemed  as  black  and  as  polished  as  a 
jet  brooch,  and  here  and  there  its  patches  of  reflected  flame.  I 
passed  one  other  very  pretty  loch,  not  of  great  extent,  but  speckled 
with  green  islands  waving  with  birch  and  hazel,  and  abounding  in 
fish,  that  as  I  went  by  were  dimpling  it  with  a  thousand  rings,  and 
leaping  for  a  few  inches  into  the  air.  I  here  met  an  English  manu- 
facturer in  kelt  and  hose,  surrounded  by  half-a-dozen  Highland 
gillies,  all  tightly  breeched.  I  found  the  marble,  white  and  gray, 
rising  amid  the  heath  and  long  grass,  like  old  snow  on  a  mountain- 
top  in  midsummer,  and  detached  several  specimens.  But  I  was  fairly 
beaten  off  from  examining  the  deposit  as  thoroughly  as  I  could  have 
wished,  by  armies  of  midges,  that  rose  in  clouds  about  my  face  every 
time  I  bent  down  to  strike  a  blow,  and  made  it  feel  as  if  it  had 
been  bathed  in  boiling  water.  There  is  perhaps  no  place  in  the 
world  in  which  these  little  creatures  are  more  troublesome  than  in  the 
western  parts  of  Sutherland.  I  traveled  on  by  the  gig  to  Lairg,  which 
I  reached  about  two  o'clock,  and  took  in  one  meal  breakfast  and 
dinner.  When  I  was  a  boy  a  few  years  older  than  you  I  used  to 

*  Now  Lieutenant  in  the  37th  Grenadiers  in  India. 


LETTERS     TO     HIS     CHILDREN.  501 

spend  some  of  my  holidays  in  the  neighborhood  of  this  place ;  and, 
being  desirous  to  revisit  the  localities  with  which  I  was  so  well  ac- 
quainted of  old,  I  determined  on  passing  a  day  or  two  in  the  Lairg 
Inn.  But  I  was  told  by  the  landlord  that  his  house  was  quite  full, 
and  that  he  could  not  accommodate  me.  '  I  have  a  plaid  of  my  own ; 
could  you  not  give  me  the  use  of  a  sofa?'  I  asked.  The  landlord 
looked  at  me,  and  then  beckoned  me  into  a  corner.  '  Mr.  Miller, 
you  are  a  man  of  sense,'  he  said ;  *  all  my  bedrooms  have  been  en- 
gaged for  months  by  sporting  gentlemen  from  the  south,  and  my 
public  room  is  occupied  chiefly  by  their  servants.  The  engaged 
rooms  I  can  not  give  you  \  and  the  servants  are  no  company  for  you. 
Even  the  very  bed  I  can  give  you  is  in  a  double-bedded  room,  oc- 
cupied in  part  by  Lord  Grosvenor's  valet.  I  state  to  you  the  real 
case,  while  you  are  yet  in  time  to  ride  away  by  the  mail  to  Golspie.' 
I  thanked  the  landlord,  who  is  really  a  very  decent  man,  and  deter- 
mined that,  as  I  have  prosecuted  my  researches  during  the  last  thirty 
years  under  great  difficulties,  the  difficulty  of  the  servants  in  general, 
and  of  the  valet  in  particular,  should  not  turn  me  back  now.  And  so 
I  took  my  share  of  the  double-bedded  room.  Papa  thinks  that  his 
status,  such  as  it  is,  is  that  of  the  man  of  science,  and  that  it  is  so 
dependent  on  what  he  achieves  for  himself,  that  it  could  not  be  im- 
proved by  sleeping  in  the  same  bed  with  a  lord,  or  yet  depressed  by 
going  to  lied  in  the  same  room  with  a  lord's  valet.  I  had  calculated 
on  attending  church  at  Lairg ;  the  Free  Church  is  only  a  few  hundred 
yards  from  the  inn,  and  though  a  rapid  river  lies  between,  the  late 
MrS.  Mackay,  of  Rockfield,  had  given  money  to  make  a  suspension 
bridge  over  it,  just  in  order  that  the  people  on  the  Lairg  side  might 
get  easily  to  church.  But  on  this  Sabbath  there  was  no  preaching, 
the  minister  being  from  home  ;  and  though  the  men  of  the  district 
officiated,  their  addresses  were  all  in  Gaelic.  The  father  and  grand- 
father of  Mrs.  Mackay's  husband  were,  in  succession,  ministers  in 
this  parish,  and  there  is  an  interesting  monument  in  the  church-yard 
to  their  memory,  and  to  that  of  two  of  the  sons  of  the  son,  the  one 
a  captain  in  the  army,  who  '  fell,'  says  the  epitaph,  '  in  the  moment 
of  victory  at  the  muzzle  of  the  enemies'  cannon,  at  the  memorable 
battle  of  Assaye,  fought  between  General  Wellesley  and  the  Mahrat- 
tas;'  the  other  a  commander  in  the  navy,  of  whom  it  is  said  that 
'his  narratives  of  the  shipwreck  of  the  'Juno,'  and  of  his  exertions 
in  the  Red  Sea,  where,  under  God,  he  saved  part  of  the  86th  regi- 
ment, will  commemorate  his  talents,  fortitude,  and  humanity.'  Now, 
regarding  the  narrative  of  the  shipwreck  of  the  '  Juno,'  something 
curious  can  be  told,  in  which  you  may  take  an  interest  when  you 
grow  older.  There  is  a  very  famous  description  of  a  shipwreck  in 
Byron's  poem's,  into  which  there  are  introduced  many  circumstances 
new  to  poetry.  And  it  was  in  this  narrative  that  Byron  found  almost 
all  of  them.  Indeed,  his  description  may  be  in  great  part  regarded 
as  but  a  metrical  rendering  of  Commander  Mackay's  narrative." 


502  HUGH    MILLER. 


TO  THE  SAME. 

ASSYNT,  August  2oth,  1852. 

"  Harriet,  you,  and  Bessie  are  the  public  for  which  I  write ;  while 
poor  little  Hugh,  who  is,  I  suspect,  not   intelligent    enough   to  feel 
any  interest  in  papa's  adventures,  must  be  regarded  as  that  ignorant, 
but  not  uncared-for,  portion  of  the  community  which  education  has 
not  yet  reached.     I  broke  off  late  on  Saturday  night  in  the  little  inn 
of  Huna ;  the  Sabbath  morning  rose  clear  and  beautiful ;  I  never 
saw  the  Orkney  Islands  look  so  near  from  the  main  land  ;  their  little 
fields,  at  the  distance  of   many  miles,  gleamed  yellow  in    the  sun ; 
and  the  tall  Old  Red   Sandstone  cliffs  of  Hoy — cliffs  nearly  a  thou- 
sand feet  in  height — were  sharply  relieved  against  the  sky,  and  bore 
a  blood-hued  flush  of  deep  red ;  while  the  Pentland  Frith,  roughened 
by  a  light  breeze,  was  intensely  blue.     I  walked  on  after  breakfast  to 
the  Free  Church,  and  heard  from   Mr.  Macgregor  two  solid,  doctri- 
nal discourses.      The  congregation,  however,  was  very  thin ;  but  I 
ought  not  to  judge  of  it,  I  am  told,  by  present  appearances,  as  many 
of  the  men  connected  with  it  are  at  the  herring-fishery.     Still,  how- 
ever, it  is  only  half  a  congregation  at  best,  the  other  half  congrega- 
.tion  of  the   parish  being  in  the  Established  Church.      Papa  and  his 
friends  could  not  help  being  Free  Churchmen,  as  you  will  learn  when 
you  get  older  ;  we  could  not  avoid  the  Disruption ;  but  papa  does-  some- 
times regret  that  the  Disruption  should  in  so  many  parishes  have,  as 
it  were,  made  two  bites  of  a  cherry ;    that   is,  broken  up  into  two 
congregations  a  moiety  of  people  that  would  have  made   one  good 
one,  but  no  more.     After  sermon,  and  after  dinner,  I  walked  on  in 
the  cool  of  the  evening  towards  Wick,  which  I  reached  about  nine 
o'clock.     The  little  inn  at  Huna  is  far,  far  from  any  butcher's  shop; 
and  so  a  poor  hen   had  to  die  every  day  papa  was  there,  in   order 
that  papa  should  dine.     There  is  an  album  kept  at  it,  as  I  told  Har- 
riet two  years  ago,  in  which  all  visitors  write  their  names,  and  what- 
ever else  may  come  into  their  heads ;  and  so  it  contains,  as  you  may 
think,  a  great  deal  of  nonsense,  with  here  and  there  a  witty  thought, 
and    here    and    there  a  just  sentiment.     Papa  wrote  some   not  very 
good  rhymes   in   it  about   two   years  ago,  and  some  not  very  good 
rhymes   on   the   present  occasion ;  though  in  the  space  between  the 
two  visits  he  wrote  only  solid  prose.      But  those  who  pass  evenings 
in  the  inn  at  Huna  have  usually  not  much  to  do  ;  and  so  many  of 
them,  in  imitation   of  those  who  have   rhymed  in  the  album  before 
them,  set  themselves  to  break  the  queen's  English  into  very  clumsy 
lines,  with  not  much  sense  in  them,  that  chime  at  their  terminations. 
The  following  formed  papa's  last  effort : 

"  '  Right  curious  volume  !  two  long  years  have  passed 
Since  I  glanced  o'er  thy  chequered  pages  last ; 


"MY   SCHOOL  AND   SCHOOL -MASTERS."          503 

And  leaves  then  blank  in  thee  are  filled,  rare  book, 

E'en  in  a  way  on  which  'tis  sad  to  look ; 

So  scant  the  wit,  the  wisdom  seldom  seen, 

While  dreary  wastes  of  folly  spread  between. 

Yes,  sad,  full  sad,  for,  curious  book,  I  see 

Too  true  a  picture  of  my  life  in  thee  ; 

Folly  in  both  prevails,  in  both  how  few 

The  points  to  instruct  the  heart,  or  glad  the  view;   . 

In  both  the  past  admits  of  no  recall, 

E'en  as  the  thing  was  done  we  stand  or  fall ; 

The  ill  expressed  we  can  not  well  suppress, 

Nor  can  we  make  the  by-past  nonsense  less. 

Yet  must  I  hold,  poor,  curious  book  !  that  thine 

Is  e'en  by  much  a  harder  fate  than  mine  : 

For  thee  no  new  editions  wait, — no  Mind 

Shall  add  the  wisdom  that  it  does  not  find ; 

Raise  into  worth  the  groveling  and  the  low, 

And  mental  force  and  moral  weight  bestow ; 

E'en  faulty  as  thou  art,  thou  still  must  be, 

A  nobler  destiny  waits,  I  trust,  on  me  ; 

The  Great  Corrector  shall  revise  my  past, 

And  in  a  fairer  mold  its  lines  re-cast ; 

For  folly,  wisdom;  strength  for  weakness  lend, 

And  all  my  blots  erase,  and  all  my  faults  amend.' 

"So  much  for  papa's  rhymes.  There  are  some  people,  who 
rhyme  not  much  better  than  papa,  who  believe  themselves  to  be 
poets  ;  but  that  is  a  mistake,  and  it  usually  does  those  who  entertain 
it  some  harm.  They  rhyme,  and  rhyme,  and  rhyme,  and  deem  them- 
selves neglected  because  the  world  does  not  buy  and  praise  their 
rhymes.  But  for  rhymes  such  as  theirs  and  papa's  the  world  has  no 
use  whatever;  the  article  bears  no  money  value  in  the  market ;  though 
to  devote  twenty  minutes  or  so,  in  two  years,  to  the  manufacture  of 
it,  as  papa  does,  is  productive  of  no  manner  of  harm. 

During  the  year  1853  a  large  proportion  of  the  chapters  of  Hugh 
Miller's  autobiographical  work  appeared  in  the  Witness.  In  the 
beginning  of  1854  the  book  was  published  under  the  now  well-known 
title,  "My  Schools  and  School-masters."  Its  success  was  immediate 
and  decisive.  Literary  men  were  glad  to  meet  Miller  in  a  field  from 
which  controversy  of  every  kind  was  excluded,  and  to  mark  the 
skill  with  which  he  wielded  the  instruments  of  pure  literary  art.  Their 
disposition  was  to  pronounce  it  his  most  valuable  work.  Readers 
will  with  interest  peruse  the  two  following  letters  on  the  subject : 

FROM    MR.    ROBERT   CHAMBERS. 

"  i  DOUNE  TERRACE,  March  r,  1854. 

"I  can  not  think  of  confining  my  thanks  for  your  volume  to  the 
few  hurried  words  I  had  an  opportunity  of  saying  last  week.  Not 


504  HUGH    MILLER. 

that  I  am  excitedly  grateful  for  the  kind  reference  you  have  made 
to  myself,  but  because  I  have  read  your  first  three  hundred  and  fifty 
pages  with  a  heart  full  of  sympathy  for  your  early  hardships  and 
efforts,  and  an  intense  admiration  of  the  observant  and  intelligent 
mind  which  I  see  working  in  that  village  boy  on  the  shore  of  the 
Cromarty  Frith.  I  can  not  refrain  from  congratulating  you  on  the 
publication  of  this  book,  which  I  consider  as  yet  your  best,  and  the 
one  that  will  prove  most  enduringly  useful,  interesting,  and  popular, — 
simply  because  yourself  have  been  the  best  phenomenon  you  have 
ever  had  to  describe.  I  can  not  refrain  from  congratulating  you  on 
the  triumphs  you  have  achieved  over  the  great  difficulties  of  your 
early  position,  which  now  appear  to  me  far  beyond  any  thing  I  had 
previously  imagined.  And,  believe  me,  I  am  most  cordially  sincere 
when  I  offer  you  my  best  wishes  for  the  remainder  of  a  career,  the 
early  part  of  which  has  been  so  creditable  to  you.  Be  assured  that 
Scotland  has  few  dearer  living  names  at  present  than  Hugh  Miller, 
and  must  henceforth  feel  the  deepest  interest  and  concern  in  every 
thing  you  do. 

"Your  autobiography  has  set  me  a  thinking  of  my  own  youthful 
days,  which  were  like  yours  in  point  of  hardship  and  humiliation, 
though  different  in  many  important  circumstances.  My  being  of 
the  same  age  with  you,  to  exactly  a  quarter  of  a  year,  brings  the 
idea  of  a  certain  parity  more  forcibly  upon  me.  The  differences  are 
as  curious  to  me  as  the  resemblances.  Notwithstanding  your  won- 
derful success  as  a  writer,  I  think  my  literary  tendency  must  have 
been  a  deeper  and  more  absorbing  peculiarity  than  yours,  seeing  that 
I  took  to  Latin  and  to  books  both  keenly  and  exclusively,  while  you 
broke  down  in  your  classical  course,  and  had  fully  as  great  a  passion 
for  rough  sport  and  enterprise  as  for  reading — that  being,  again,  a 
passion  of  which  I  never  had  one  particle.  This  has,  however,  re- 
sulted in  making  you,  what  I  never  was  inclined  to  be,  a  close  observer 
of  external  nature — an  immense  advantage  in  your  case.  Still  I 
think  I  could  present  against  your  hardy  field  observations  by  frith 
and  fell,  and  cave  and  cliff,  some  striking  analogies  in  finding  out 
and  devouring  of  books,  making  my  way,  for  instance,  through  a 
whole  chestful  of  the  '  Encyclopaedia  Britannica,'  which  I  found  in 
a  lumber  garret !  I  must  also  say,  that  an  unfortunate  tenderness  of 
feet,  scarcely  yet  got  over,  had  much  to  do  in  making  me  mainly  a 
fireside  student.  As  to  domestic  connections  and  conditions,  mine, 
being  of  the  middle  classes,  were  superior  to  yours  for  the  first  twelve 
years.  After  that,  my  father  being  unfortunate  in  business,  we  were 
reduced  to  poverty,  and  came  down  to  even  humbler  things  than  you 
experienced.  I  passed  through  some  years  of  the  direst  hardship, 
not  the  least  evil  being  a  state  of  feeling  quite  unnatural  in  youth,  a 
stern  and  burning  defiance  of  a  social  world  in  which  we  were  harshly 
and  coldly  treated  by  former  friends,  differing  only  in  external  re- 
spects from  ourselves.  In  your  life  there  is  one  crisis  where  I  think 


OPINIONS    OF    CHAMBERS    AND    CARLYLE.  505 

your  experiences  must  have  been  somewhat  like  mine  ;  it  is  the  brief 
period  at  Inverness.  Some  of  your  expressions  there  bring  all  my 
own  early  feelings  again  to  life.  A  disparity  between  the  -internal 
consciousness  of  powers  and  accomplishments  and  the  external  osten- 
sible aspect  led  in  me  to  the  very  same  wrong  methods  of  setting 
myself  forward  as  in  you.  There,  of  course  I  meet  you  in  warm 
sympathy.  I  have  sometimes  thought  of  describing  my  bitter,  pain- 
ful youth  to  the  world,  as  something  in  which  it  might  read  a  lesson  ; 
but  the  retrospect  is  still  too  distressing.*  I  screen  it  from  the 
mental  eye.  The  one  grand  fact  it  has  impressed  is  the  very  small 
amount  of  brotherly  assistance  there  is  for  the  unfortunate  in  this 

world.     I  remember  hearing  the  widow  of  Mr.  tell  how  she  had 

never  been  asked  by  any  relation  of  either  herself  or  her  husband  to 
accept  of  a  five-pound  note,  though  many  of  them  were  very  well 
off.  The  rule  is  to  leave  these  stricken  deer  to  weep  themselves 
away  unsuccored.  I  have  the  same  experience  to  relate.  Till  I 
proved  that  I  could  help  myself  no  friend  came  to  me.  Uncles, 
cousins,  etc.,  in  good  positions  in  life — some  of  them  stoops  of  kirks, 
by-the-by — not  one  offered,  or  seemed  inclined  to  give,  the  smallest 
assistance.  The  consequent  defying,  self-relying  spirit,  in  which,  at 
sixteen,  I  set  out  as  a  bookseller  with  only  my  own  small  collection 
of  books  as  a  stock — not  worth  more  than  two  pounds,  I  believe — 
led  to  my  being  quickly  independent  of  all  aid;  but  it  has  not  been 
all  a  gain,  for  I  am  now  sensible  that  my  spirit  of  self-reliance  too 
often  manifested  itself  in  an  unsocial,  unamiable  light,  while  my 
recollections  of  'honest  poverty'  may  have  made  me  too  eager  to 
attain  and  secure  worldly  prosperity.  Had  I  possessed  uncles  such 
as  yours  I  might  have  been  much  the  better  of  it  through  life. 

"  Pray  accept  with  lenity  these  hurried  and  imperfect  remarks, 
into  which  I  have  been  led  by  a  sort  of  sympathetic  spirit,  almost 
against  my  own  sense  of  propriety." 

FROM  MR.    THOMAS  CARLYLE. 

"  5  CHEYNE  Row,  CHELSEA,  LONDON,  pth  March,  1854. 

"I  am  surely  much  your  debtor  for  that  fine  book  you  sent  me 
last  week,  which  was  welcome  in  two  ways,  the  extrinsic  first,  and 
now  the  intrinsic;  for  I  have  now  read  it  to  the  end  (not  a  common 
thing  at  all  in  such  cases),  and  found  it  right  pleasant  company  for 
the  evenings  I  stole  in  behalf  of  it !  Truly  I  am  very  glad  to  con- 
dense the  bright  but  indistinct  rumor  labeled  to  me  by  your  name, 
for  years  past,  into  the  ruddy-visaged,  strong-boned,  glowing  figure 
of  a  man  which  I  have  got — and  bid  good  speed  to  with  all  my  heart ! 

"You  have,  as  you  undertook  to  do,  painted  many  things  to  us; 

•'Sec  the  "Autobiographic  Reminiscences  of  Robert  and  Wm.  Chambers,''  pub- 
lished in  this  volume. 


506  HUGH     MILLER. 

scenes  of  life,  scenes  of  nature,  which  rarely  come  upon  the  canvas ; 
and  I  will  add,  such  draughtsmen,  too,  are  extremely  uncommon,  in 
that  and  in  other  walks  of  painting.  There  is  a  right  genial  fire  in 
the  book,  every-where  nobly  tempered  down  into  peaceful  radical 
heat,  which  is  very  beautiful  to  see.  Luminous,  memorable ;  all 
wholesome,  strong,  fresh  and  breezy,  like  the  '  Old  Red  Sandstone 
Mountains'  in  a  sunny  summer  day;  it  is  really  a  long  while  since  I 
have  read  a  book  worthy  of  so  much  recognition  from  me,  or  likely 
to  be  so  interesting  to  sound -hearted  men  of  every  degree.  I  might 
have  my  objections  and  exceptions  here  and  there  (not  to  the  matter, 
I  think,  however,  if  sometimes  to  the  form)  ;  but  this  is  really  the 
summary  of  my  judgment  on  the  business.  And  so,  once  more,  I 
return  you  many  thanks,  as  for  a  gift  that  was  very  kind,  and  has 
been  very  pleasant  to  me." 

The  month  before  this  Miller  lectured  in  Exeter  Half,  London,  to 
the  Young  Men's  Christian  Association.  The  following  notes  of  his 
visit  to  the  metropolis  occur  in  a  letter  to  Mrs.  Miller  of  February  gth : 

"I  was  safely  delivered  of  my  address  between  the  hours  of  eight 
and  ten  on  Tuesday  evening  (skillfully  assisted  by  Mr.  Allon),  and 
am  now  as  well  as  could  be  expected.  Mr.  Allon  is  a  clergyman, 
but  an  independent  one. 

"I  had  a  noble  audience  of,  as  the  Morning  Advertiser  says,  five 
thousand  persons,  and  I  carried  them  with  me  throughout.  During 
the  earlier  stages  of  the  address  they  were  attentive,  which  I  hardly 
expected,  as  my  preliminary  matter  was  somewhat  scientific  and  dry, 
and  throughout  the  concluding  part  rapturous  in  their  applause.  On 
the  whole,  a  more  successful  address  was  never  delivered  in  the  great 
hall.  Allon's  pronunciation  was  beautiful,  and  showed  me  better  than 
a  hundred  lessons  the  faults  of  my  own.  He  read,  too,  with  great 
vigor,  and  gave  to  my  style  the  proper  classical  effect." 

The  story  of  Hugh  Miller's  life  has  been  given  to  the  readers  of 
this  volume  in  his  own  language  and  in  that  of  his  friends ;  arranged 
as  to  sequence  in  the  order  adopted  by  his  excellent  biographer  Mr. 
Peter  Bayne,  who  is  also  his  distinguished  successor  as  editor  of  the 
Witness.  The  narrative,  although  essentially  abridged  from  the  thou- 
sand pages  covered  by  Mr.  Bayne  in  his  very  valuable  work,*  is  yet 
given  with  fullness,  especially  during  the  period  of  Hugh  Miller's 
youth  and  earlier  struggles  "up  the  heights"  to  the  point  where  he 
finally  became  the  observed  of  all  observers.  We  think  the  sketch 
will  have  been  found  not  a  skeleton  merely,  but  a  well-rounded  nar- 
rative, conveying,  in  the  purest  classical  English,  many  of  the  best 
thoughts  of  a  great  and  independent  thinker,  particularly  during  the 
period  prior  to  his  leaving  the  country  for  his  more  public  career  as 
editor  in  the  city  of  Edinburgh. 

*  The  Life  and  Letters  of  Hugh  Miller,  by  Peter  Bayne,  M.  A. 


DR.     MCCOSHS     RECOLLECTIONS.  507 

We  have  just  noted  Miller's  remarks  on  the  lecture  which  he  gave 
before  the  Young  Men's  Christian  Association  in  London,  and  have 
observed  that  he  felt  keenly  his  inability  to  read  before  an  English 
audience  what  he  could  write  in  so  masterly  a  style,  but  he  was  only 
the  more  ready  to  appreciate  Mr.  Al Ion's  ability  to  supplement  his 
labor,  by  adding,  a  clear  and  distinct  English  pronunciation,  which 
Miller's  native  heath  could  not  train  him  to  render.  It  can  not  be 
doubted  that  the  narrative  we  print  will  read  well  if  it  be  only  well 
read.  We  now  present  the  very  valuable  views  of  our  great  subject 
as  given  in  Dr.  McCosh's  Recollections  of  Hugh  Miller : 

"I  have  been  requested  to  write  out  some  recollections  of  my  old 
friend,  and  I  have  a  melancholy  pleasure  in  complying. 

"The  name  of  Hugh  Miller  first  became  known  to  me,  as  it  did  to 
Scotchmen  generally,  by  his  '  Letter  from  One  of  the  Scotch  People ' 
to  Lord  Brougham.  Multitudes  rejoiced  when  they  heard  soon  after 
that  the  friends  of  Non-Intrusion  and  Spiritual  Independence  had 
made  arrangements  for  his  conducting  a  newspaper  in  Edinburgh. 
They  felt  that  from  that  day  the  cause  received  an  accession  of 
strength.  We  were  particularly  pleased  to  find  that,  from  the  first, 
and  to  the  end,  he  maintained  an  attitude  of  independence,  not  only 
of  politicians,  but  of  Church  leaders.  The  movement  had  hitherto 
assumed  too  much  of  an  ecclesiastical  aspect.  No  doubt  it  had  in 
it  all  along  the  popular  element  of  Non-Intrusion ;  but  the  Spir- 
itual Independence  side  was  the  one  mainly  dwelt  on  in  Church 
courts ;  the  Scottish  people  did  not  always  understand  what  was 
meant  by  overtures  to  the  General  Assembly  about  independence  of 
the  civil  courts;  and  not  a  few  entertained  the  suspicion  that  the 
ministers  were  seeking  for  power  to  themselves  which  would  set  them 
above  the  law  of  the  land,  in  the  settlement  of  ministers.  Certain 
it  is  that  the  cry  of  the  clergy  did  not  always  carry  with  it  the  pop- 
ular sympathy;  and  there  were  times  and  places  in  which  public 
meetings  called  to  support  it  were  put  down  by  mob  opposition.  It 
was  most  important  that  at  that  crisis  the  grand  old  cause  of  Scot- 
land should  have  one  of  the  people  to  support  it,  and  a  shout  of  joy 
burst  out  all  over  Scotland  when  Hugh  Miller  came  forth  as  the 
champion  of  popular  rights.  The  newspaper  was  published  twice  a 
week;  and  Wednesdays  and  Saturdays,  the  publishing  days,  were 
looked  forward  to  by  many,  because  they  brought  the  Witness.  The 
paper  was  read,  not  so  much  for  its  news,  nor  even  its  reports  of 
Church  courts,  as  for  its  leading  articles.  Many  a  retired  country 
minister,  living,  perhaps,  in  the  midst  of  a  body  of  farmers,  who  had 
no  appreciation  of  the  questions  at  issue,  had  his  spirit  aroused  as  by 
a  trumpet  clang  by  the  powerful  appeal  made  to  him,  and  he  paused 
in  the  midst  of  writing  his  sermon  on  the  Saturday  to  read  the  lead- 
ing article.  The  day  laborer  or  weaver  could  not  afford  to  take  the 
paper,  but  he  was  grateful  when  some  one,  minister  or  elder,  lent  it 
to  him.  The  literary  men  in  our  universities  had,  as  a  whole,  a  deep 


508  HUGH     MILLER. 

suspicion  of  the  movement,  and  did  not  like  to  be  thought  readers 
of  the  stone-mason's  paper,  but  were  glad  when  they  could  get  fur- 
tive glances  at  it,  and  were  obliged  to  acknowledge  its  literary  supe- 
riority. From  a  very  early  date  Hugh  Miller's  name  became  a 
household  one  in  the  best  families  of  Scotland.  The  common  people 
never  called  him  Mr.  Miller ;  they  would  no  more  have  done  this 
than  they  would  have  called  Robert  Burns  by  the  name  of  Mr.  Burns; 
they  identified  themselves  with  him  and  identified  him  with  them- 
selves by  calling  him  Hugh  Miller.  They  felt  as  if  he  still  carried 
his  chisel  and  his  hammer,  and  as  if  he  were  now  forming  and  fash- 
ioning, by  firm  and  manly  stroke,  a  nobler  edifice  than  ever  his 
mason's  tools  had  constructed.  I  was  in  circumstances  to  know  the 
feeling  of  Scotland  at  the  time,  and  I  am  convinced  that  the  old 
national  cause,  which  was  defeated  in  1843,  but  which  gained  the 
victory  in  its  defeat — as,  with  reverence  be  it  spoken,  the  cause  of 
Christ  did  when  he  was  crucified — was  indebted,  among  the  great 
mass  of  the  people,  to  Hugh  Miller  as  much  as  to  any  other  man. 

"I  read  his  paper  from  the  first;  but  shy  as  I  have  ever  been  to 
court  the  great  men  whom  I  admired,  I  was  not  personally  acquainted 
with  him  till  1850.  That  year  I  published  my  first  work,  'The 
Method  of  Divine  Government.'  I  had  made  up  my  mind  to  meet 
failure  as  well  as  success;  and  I  believe  that  if  the  work  had  met 
only  with  popular  neglect  I  would  have  clung  to  it  the  more  reso- 
lutely, as  the  father  will  dote  the  more  lovingly  on  that  daughter  in 
whom  the  silly  beaux  see  no  merits.  I  had  fortified  myself  against 
both  praise  and  blame;  but  there  were  two  men  in  Edinburgh  about 
whose  good  opinion  I  felt  somewhat  sensitive  :  these  were  Sir  William 
Hamilton  and  Hugh  Miller.  I  asked  my  publishers  to  send  a  copy 
of  my  work  to  each.  Meanwhile  the  public  scarcely  knew  what  to 
make  of  my  big,  and,  as  some  deemed,  pretentious  book.  The 
Athenaum  noticed  me  contemptuously,  evidently  without  reading  me; 
it  praised  some  of  my  works  afterwards,  when  I  had  earned  a  repu- 
tation. My  very  friends  shook  their  heads,  and  were  expecting  a 
failure.  Now  it  was  at  this  time,  when  readers  were  hesitating  which 
side  to  take,  that  the  two  Edingurgh  giants  spoke  out,  and  spoke  out 
courageously  —  not  uttering  ambiguous  oracles,  which  would  make 
them  right  whatever  the  way  in  which  the  public  might  ultimately 
decide.  I  was  not  known  at  the  time  beyond  a  limited  district  in 
the  north  of  Forfarshire  and  the  south  of  Kincardineshire ;  I  believe 
neither  of  the  eminent  men  referred  to  had  ever  heard  of  me  before; 
and  this  led  them  to  exaggerate  my  merits.  I  feel,  in  this  distant 
land,  a  deep  gratitude  to  the  many  kind  Scottish  friends  who  helped 
to  bring  my  book  into  notice;  but  I  feel  most  to  the  great  Scottish 
metaphysician ;  and  with  him,  and  above  him,  to  the  man  who  spoke 
first,  to  Hugh  Miller. 

"I  felt  now  as  if  I  ought  to  seek  the  acquaintanceship  of  Hugh 
Miller.  This  was  brought  about  by  our  mutual  friend,  the  Rev.  Dr. 


HIS     DIGNITY     AND     MODESTY.  509 

Guthrie,  who  invited  him  to  meet  me  at  dinner.  And  this  may  be 
the  fittest  place  for  describing  his  outward  appearance  as  it  first  came 
under  my  notice.  In  dress  he  neither  affected  a  slovenly  carelessness 
nor  a  prim  gentility.  It  was  very  much  the  dress  worn  on  Sundays 
by  the  better  class  of  tradesmen  and  upland  farmers.  It  must  be 
confessed  that  at  first  sight  he  had  somewhat  of  a  shaggy  appearance, 
relieved,  however,  by  a  look  of  high  independence  and  an  air  of  in- 
domitable energy  and  perseverance.  He  was  a  man  of  the  highest 
type  throughout ;  but  if  he  had  a  counterpart  in  any  of  the  lower 
animals  it  was  in  the  noblest  of  the  dog  tribe,  such  as  Landseer  loves 
to  paint,  as  in  his  Dignity  as  contrasted  with  Impudence.  Yet  he 
was  withal  wonderfully  shy,  and  unwilling  to  seem  to  be  seeking  the 
favor  of  any  man.  A  little  incident  may  show  what  I  mean.  Dr. 
Guthrie  and  I  had  been  walking  together  on  the  day  on  which  he 
had  asked  him  to  meet  me  at  dinner;  and  when  we  were  at  some 
distance  we  saw  him  approaching  the  door.  *  Let  us  run,'  says  Dr. 
Guthrie;  'for  if  he  goes  to  my  house  and  finds  me  not  in  he  will  set 
off;'  and  we  did  run  to  catch  him.  I  remember  another  circumstance 
illustrating  the  same  point.  I  was  talking  to  him  of  the  literateurs 
of  Edinburgh,  great  and  small.  He  did  not  seem  to  have  much 
intimacy  with  them.  We  talked  of  Lord  Jeffrey,  of  whom  he  spoke 
kindly  and  respectfully.  'He  expressed/  he  said,  'a  wish  to  make 
my  acquaintance  when  I  came  to  Edinburgh;  but  as  he  did  not  call 
on  me,  I  did  not  see  my  way  to  call  on  him,  and  we  have  not  had 
much  intercourse. '  I  happened  to  be  in  his  house  one  forenoon  when 
he  was  expecting  a  call  from  Sir  Roderick  Murchison  in  the  after- 
noon. He  was  too  proud  a  man  to  make  any  boastings  about  it ;  but 
it  was  evident  that  he  was  highly  gratified  by  the  proffered  visit ;  and 
he  had  his  splendid  museum  in  the  highest  possible  order  to  show  it 
to  the  distinguished  geologist.  He  had  a  heart  to  cherish  a  sense  of 
favors  when  bestowed  without  any  condescension,  or  endeavor  to  in- 
terfere with  his  independence,  but  certainly  with  no  stomach  to  seek 
favors  even  from  those  who  would  have  been  most  willing  to  grant 
them. 

"  We  met  at  dinner  on  the  day  I  have  referred  to.  Besides  Dr. 
Guthrie,  Mr.  Miller  and  myself,  there  were  only  one  or  two  others 
present.  Dr.  Guthrie  restrained  his  usual  flow  of  mingled  manly 
sense,  humor,  and  pathos,  to  allow  his  friend  to  speak  freely ;  and  he 
had  soon  to  go  out  to  a  congregational  meeting.  So  I  had  the  great 
man  to  myself  for  the  evening,  and  he  under  no  restraint.  I  have 
observed  that  in  large,  promiscuous  companies  he  was  apt  to  feel  awk- 
ward and  restrained,  and  to  retire  into  himself,  and  sit  silent.  But 
when  there  were  only  a  few  persons  present,  and  these  of  congenial 
tastes,  his  conversation  was  of  the  most  brilliant  description.  You 
saw  the  thoughts  laboring  in  his  brain  as  distinctly  as  you  see  the 
machinery  in  a  clock  when  the  clock-work  is  in  a  glass  case.  That 
evening  we  talked  of  subjects  that  were  familiar  to  him,  and  which 


510  HUGH    MILLER. 

I  was  at  that  time  studying,  such  as  the  typical  forms  which  Professor 
Owen  was  detecting  in  the  vertebrate  skeleton,  and  the  possibility  of 
reconciling  them  with  the  doctrine  of  final  cause  and  the  mutual 
adaptation  of  parts.  He  was  not  sure  about  some  points,  and  my  de- 
light was  to  set  his  mind  a  working.  He  afterwards  brought  out  his 
matured  views  in  a  very  brilliant  article  which  he  wrote,  reviewing  a 
paper  of  mine  in  the  'North  British  Review.'  But  that  night  his 
thoughts  came  out  tumbling  with  a  freshness,  an  originality,  and  a 
power,  which  somewhat  disappeared  when  he  came  to  write  them  out 
in  elegant  English. 

"  From  that  date  he  expected  me  to  go  out  to  Portobello  or  Mus- 
selburgh  and  see  him  when  I  went  to  Edinburgh,  which  I  commonly 
did  once  or  twice  a  year.  I  took  care  not  to  intrude  upon  him  the 
night  before  the  bi-weekly  issue  of  his  paper;  but  I  always  found 
him  welcoming  me  on  the  Wednesday  or  Saturday  night  when  the 
hard  work  of  composition  was  off  his  mind.  On  these  occasions  he 
showed  me  his  museum,  with  the  feeling  of  a  boy  showing  his  toys 
to  his  companion.  He  sometimes,  but  not  often,  talked  of  church 
matters;  but  it  was  evident  that  having  to  write  and  speak  so  much 
about  them  he  rather  kept  off  them  with  me — except,  indeed,  that 
he  was  ever  ready  to  speak  of  the  great  religious  cause  of  the  freedom 
of  the  church,  as  imbedded  deep  in  the  hearts,  even  as  it  was  in  the 
history,  of  Scotchmen,  and  certain  in  the  end  to  triumph.  Some- 
times we  talked  of  geology  and  religion  and  the  difficult  problems 
which  they  started.  At  times  I  introduced  a  topic  new  to  him,  as 
on  one  occasion  '  Comte's  Classification  of  the  Sciences  and  the  Pos- 
itive Philosophy,'  not  so  well-known  then  as  now.'  It  was  extremely 
interesting  to  watch  his  mind  grasping  the  new  ideas,  apprehending 
but  not  yet  fully  comprehending  them.  In  next  paper  he  had  an  arti- 
cle on  the  subject,  but  it  is  evident  that  his  mind  had  not  yet  settled 
down  into  clearness,  and  the  written  composition  had  not  the  full 
expanse  of  the  conversation.  Had  he  lived  he  would  certainly  have 
grappled  with  the  'Positive  Philosophy*  as  he  did  with  the  'Vestiges 
of  Creation.' 

"  Having  great  confidence  in  his  singleness  of  purpose  and  his  far- 
sighted  wisdom,  I  consulted  him  when  I  was  about  to  be  called  to 
the  Chair  of  Logic  and  Metaphysics  in  Belfast,  stating  to  him  my 
difficulty  about  giving  up  my  pastoral  work.  He  gave  me  a  clear 
and  unequivocal  advice.  'If  a  man,'  says  he,  'has  decidedly  a  high 
heaven-bestowed  gift — even  if  it  should  be  that  of  a  mason  or  me- 
chanic— he  should  exercise  it  to  the  glory  of  God.  You  have,'  he 
was  pleased  to  add,  '  such  a  gift ;  go  and  use  it,  and  God  will  open 
spheres  of  usefulness  to  you.' 

"The  last  conversation  I  had  with  him  was  in  the  early  autumn 
of  the  year  before  his  decease.  He  was  completing  his  last  work, 
'  The  Testimony  of  the  Rocks,'  and  we  went  over  the  topics  discussed 
in  it.  I  was  struck  then,  as  I  ever  was,  with  his  powerful  memory 


COMPARED  WITH  BURNS.  511 

and  his  special  acquaintance  with  the  English  literature  of  last  cen- 
tury— I  suspect  it  was  the  literature  most  accessible  to  him  in  his 
younger  years.  He  could  quote  verbatim  long  passages  from  the 
poets  of  that  epoch,  illustrating  points  casting  up  from  the  conversa- 
tion. As  we  took  the  usual  walk  through  his  museum  he  freely 
allowed  that  the  apparent  breaks  between  the  various  geological 
epochs  and  animals  were  being  fast  filled  up  by  new  geological  dis- 
coveries, and  showed  the  same  examples  as  we  went  along.  It  was 
evident  to  me  that  he  was  setting  himself  to  a  thorough  grappling 
with  these  facts,  and  to  a  consideration  of  their  relation  to  the  great 
truths  of  natural  and  revealed  religion.  Often  do  some  of  us  wish 
that  he  had  been  spared  to  take  his  place  in  the  more  formidable 
conflicts  of  these  times. 

"In  common  with  not  a  few  others,  I  looked  on  Hugh  Miller  as 
the  greatest  Scotchman  left  after  T  homas  Chalmers  fell.  These  two 
men  differed  in  many  points,  but  they  were  essentially  kindred  spirits ; 
they  were  alike  in  their  high  aims ;  in  their  lofty  genius ;  in  the 
moving  power  of  their  writings ;  in  their  partiality  for  the  study  of 
the  works  of  God ;  in  their  deep  reverence  for  the  Word  of  God ;  in 
their  desire  to  unite  science  and  religion,  and  attachment  to  the 
principles  of  the  Church  of  Scotland.  What  Chalmers  did  for  the 
older  sister,  astronomy,  Miller  has  done  for  the  younger,  geology,  in 
wedding  her  to  religion.  Both  lived  for  the  purpose  of  elevating 
their  countrymen  and  their  race ;  and  in  order  "to  effect  this  end  both 
labored  to  promote  the  church's  independence  and  the  freedom  of 
its  members.  Each  had  his  own  field  of  influence ;  each  had  a  class 
of  minds  on  whom  he  exercised  a  burning  and  enduring  power  for 
good.  Most  appropriately,  now  that  their  day's  work  is  done,  do 
they  sleep  side  by  side  in  the  same  grave-yard. 

"I  am  tempted  to  compare  Miller,  and  when  I  compare  him,  to 
contrast  him  with  another  eminent  Scotchman,  Robert  Burns.  Both 
were  sprung  from  the  nobler  order  of  the  Scottish  peasantry ;  neither 
was  originally  educated  as  a  scholar ;  both  rose  to  the  highest*  emi- 
nence in  the  midst  of  difficulties  which  led  the  one  as  well  as  the 
other  seriously  to  propose  emigrating  to  America ;  both  had  a  deep 
love  for  Scotland  and  her  common  people  ;  both  will  go  down  through 
all  coming  ages  as  household  words,  and  as  representatives  of  the  in- 
telligence of  the  sons  of  toil  in  their  native  land  ;  and  both  were 
characterized  by  a  noble  modesty  and  a  manly  independence  of  na- 
ture— '  Owre  blate  to  seek,  owre  proud  to  snool.'  But  with  the  re- 
semblances there  were  differences.  In  respect  of  native  genius  they 
rank  in  my  view  equally  high  ;  but  the  complexion  and  bent  of  that 
genius  differed  in  the  two  individuals.  No  one  would  compare  any 
poetry  published  by  Hugh  Miller  with  the  poetry  of  Robert  Burns; 
though  there  are  passages  of  very  high  poetic  power  in  all  the  prose 
works  of  Miller.  Let  us  only  look  at  that  bold  sketch  of  a  proposed 
Epic  towards  the  close  of  the  sixth  Lecture  of  his  '  Testimony  of  the 


512  HUGH     MILLER. 

Rocks,'  in  which  he  represents  Lucifer,  son  of  the. morning,  cast 
down  on  the  Pre-Adamite  earth,  while  yet  a  half-extinguished  vol- 
cano j  then,  as  ages  roll  on,  moving  amidst  tangled  foliage  and  rav- 
enous creatures,  horrid  with  trenchant  tooth  and  barbed  sting,  and 
enveloped  in  armor  of  plate  and  scale,  marking  all  the  while  and 
wondering  at  the  progressive  work  of  God,  as  animal  follows  plant, 
and  man  succeeds  animal,  and  seeking  to  frustrate  it  by  diabolical 
wiles,  which,  however,  only  fulfill  the  eternal  counsels  of  Heaven,  and 
issue  in  the  crowning  work,  the  descent  and  death  and  ascension  of 
the  Incarnate  Son  of  God.  Greater  as  a  poet,  Robert  Burns  can  not 
be  placed  as  a  thinker,  or  a  man  of  science,  or  a  writer  of  prose,  on 
the  level  of  Hugh  Miller.  Dugald  Stewart  expressed  his  surprise  to 
find  Burns  form  so  correct  an  idea  of  the  then  prevailing  theory  in 
Edinburgh,  which  referred  all  beauty  to  the  association  of  ideas,  a 
theory  which  seems  to  have  gained  the  momentary  assent  of  Burns 
in  spite  of  his  own  better  sense  and  truer  feeling :  '  That  the  martial 
clangor,'  he  says,  '  of  a  trumpet  had  something  in  it  vastly  more 
grand,  heroic,  and  sublime,  than  the  twingle-twangle  of  a  Jew's-harp; 
that  the  delicate  flexure  of  a  rose-twig,  when  the  half-blown  flower 
is  heavy  with  the  tears  of  dawn,  was  infinitely  more  beautiful  and 
elegant  than  the  upright  stalk  of  the  burdock,  and  that  from  some- 
thing innate  and  independent  of  all  association  of  ideas — these  I  had 
set  down  as  irrefragible  orthodox  truths,  until  perusing  your  book 
shook  my  faith.'  No  one  who  had  conversed  with  Hugh  Miller 
would  have  expressed  surprise  that  he  was  capable  of  understanding 
such  truths.  He  must  have  been  in  the  clouds  himself,  who,  in  talk- 
ing with  him,  did  not  confess  that  Hugh  Miller  could  soar  as  high 
as  he,  and  keep  well-balanced  pinions  all  the  while.  He  had  no 
difficulty  in  understanding  the  Association  Theory,  and  many  other 
theories  of  Hume  and  Brown  as  well,  and  in  brushing  away  them  and 
some  other  meager  or  misty  explanations  by  a  few  brief  but  cogent 
facts  and  arguments.  In  his  works  he  has  combined,  as  no  working 
man  ever  did  before,  lofty  speculation  with  rigid  science,  and  irradi- 
ated the  whole  with  the  corruscations  of  poetry.  Nor  is  it  to  be 
omitted  that  there  is  a  far  more  important  point  of  difference  between 
the  Ayrshire  plowman  and  the  Cromarty  mason.'  Both  were  men 
of  naturally  strong  passions ;  but  where  the  one  yielded  to  the  temp- 
tations that  assailed  him, 

"'And  thoughtless  follies  laid  him  low, 
And  stained  his  name.' 

the  other  resisted  with  all  his  might.  As  I  conversed  with  Hugh 
Miller,  or  after  parting  with  him,  with  his  words  of  power  still  ring- 
ing in  my  ears,  often  have  I  felt,  and  said  too, — but  not  in  his  hear- 
ing,— '  What  an  amount  of  mischief  would  that  mighty  man  have 
done  had  he,  say  on  his  being  tempted  by  his  brother  masons  at 


HIGH     REPUTATION.  513 

Niddry,  given  way  where  he  stood  firm  ;  had  he,  like  Burns,  joined 
the  foes  of  evangelical  religion,  instead  of  becoming  its  defender ;  or 
had  he,  when  at  one  time  tempted  to  skepticism,  abandoned  the 
religion  of  the  Bible,  with  "  its  grand  central  doctrine  of  the  true 
humanity  and  true  divinity  of  the  adorable  Savior"  (to  use  Miller's 
language),  and  gone  after  some  plausible  form  of  nature-worship  or 
man-worship.'  I  feel  as  if  his  country  and  his  Church  had  not,  when 
he  was  yet  alive,  been  sufficiently  grateful  to  God  for  raising  such  a 
man  to  guide  aright  so  large  a  portion  of  the  thinking  mind  of  Scot- 
land at  a  most  critical  era  in  its  history. 

"Every  man  in  Scotland  had  heard  of  Hugh  Miller.  Noble  lords 
were  in  the  way  of  pointing  their  sentences  and  securing  a  plaudit  by 
an  allusion  to  him.  The  artisan  and  peasant  felt  that  he  was  one  of 
themselves,  and  one  who  (unlike  some  others  sprung  from  their  ranks) 
never  felt  ashamed  of  them,  or  his  connection  with  them.  The  in- 
fidels knew  him  well,  for  many  a  hard  blow  had  he  dealt  them  ;  and 
they  were  obliged  to  respect  while  they  feared  him.  The  religious 
community  recognized  him  as  in  certain  departments  the  ablest,  as 
he  was  the  most  disinterested,  defender  of  the  faith.  Scientific  men 
recognized  in  him  one  who  could  cope  with  them  in  their  own  de- 
partment, who  knew  the  facts  as  well  as  they,  and  could  reason 
them  out  with  greater  power.  Literary  men  acknowledged  in  him  a 
brother  who  could  mold  a  sentence  or  turn  a  period  with  the  best  of 
them.  The  ablest  and  boldest  man  in  the  country  would  have  felt 
his  knees  shaking  at  the  thought  of  engaging  in  a  controversy  with 
the  stone-mason.  Even  those  who  had  no  learning  relished  him  ; 
and  some  have  earnestly  wished  to  be  better  scholars  that  they  might 
understand  him ;  and  some  have  made  themselves  scholars  by  spell- 
ing their  way  through  his  writings.  Thinkers  in  no  way  inclined 
to  agree  with  him  in  his  ecclesiastical  or  political  opinions  took  the 
Witness,  because  they  liked  to  have  thoughts  awakened  within  them  ; 
and  even  those  who  were  not  particularly  disposed  to  think,  read 
his  writings  for  the  sake  of  their  pictorial  power  and  noble  sentiment. 
One  of  the  most  distinguished  assemblies  I  ever  looked  on  met  in 
the  City  Hall  of  Glasgow,  in  September,  1855,  to  hear  the  opening 
address  of  the  president,  the  Duke  of  Argyll,  to  the  British  Associa- 
tion for  the  Promotion  of  Science.  There  were  present  a  very  large 
number  of  the  savans  of  the  age,  and  mingling  with  them  a  number 
of  others  quite  sufficient  to  make  the  audience  a  singularly  promis- 
cuous one, — shrewd  merchants  who  traded  with  the  ends  of  the 
earth,  and  other  not  less  excellent  merchants,  who  were  not  particularly 
shrewd,  and  who  were  conversant  with  little  other  literature  than 
the  Glasgow  Herald,  and  along  with  them  their  wives  and  daughters, 
some  of  them  blue  stockings,  but  others — quite  as  useful  members  of 
the  family — who  knew  cookery  vastly  better  than  geology.  In  ad- 
dressing the  assembly,  the  noble  duke  gave  us  a  panoramic  view  of 
a  number  of  the  most  distinguished  scientific  men  of  the  day,  and  an 
33 


514  HUGH     MILLER. 

epitome  of  their  discoveries.  Many  of  them  were  cheered  as  their 
names  passed  in  brief  review ;  but  there  were  two  whose  names 
called  forth  the  loudest  and  most  repeated  shouts.  The  one  of  these 
was  a  prince  in  rank,  even  as  he  is  a  prince  in  science.  Prince 
Lucien  Bonaparte,  the  cousin  of  the  then  ally  of  England  in  the 
Russian  war,  received  a  cheer  worthy  of  Glasgow.  There  was  just 
one  other  who  was  acclaimed  by  so  loud  a  burst ;  and  some  of  us 
observed  with  interest  that  in  his  case  the  cheer  came  from  every 
heart,  and  from  a  greater  depth  in  the  heart ;  that  cheer  was  in  honor 
of  one — we  need  not  name  him,  but  when  his  name  was  pronounced 
it  moved  the  vast  assembly  simultaneously  like  an  electric  shock — of 
one  of  nature's  noblest,  made  noble  not  by  the  hand  of  man,  but  by 
the  evident  mark  of  God  upon  him. 

"  But  fame  was  not  the  idol  before  which  this  great  man  bowed. 
The  love  of  reputation  was  but  an  under-current  in  his  soul.  He 
lived  to  do  a  work,  but  it  was  for  the  glory  of  God  and  the  good  of 
mankind.  I  watched  him  with  interest,  as  many  did,  in  the  meetings 
of  the  Geological  Section  of  the  British  Association  ;  and  I  observed 
that  he  sat,  and  stood,  and  spoke,  and  moved  with  the  most  perfect 
simplicity.  There  was  no  bravado  on  the  one  hand  nor  mock  humil- 
ity on  the  other ;  there  was  no  courting  of  popularity,  no  tricks  to 
draw  attention  ;  no  looking  round  to  see  if  men  and  women  were 
gazing  at  him.  He  received  the  advances  of  distinguished  indivi- 
duals with  deference,  and  was  gratified  by  them  ;  but  there  was  no 
fawning  or  flattery  on  his  part,  and  he  received  in  precisely  the  same 
manner  (as  some  of  us  can  testify)  the  most  obscure  of  his  old 
friends,  and  assumed  towards  them  no  airs  of  superiority  or  of  patron- 
age. Whatever  might  be  the  situation  in  which  he  was  placed,  one 
felt  in  regard  to  him  that  the  fiddlers  struck  up  the  right  tune,  when, 
after  his  health  was  drunk  at  a  parting  dinner  at  Cromarty,  they 
played,  'A  man's  a  man  for  a'  that.'  But  I  would  not  be  exhibiting 
his  full  character  if  I  did  not  add,  that,  bending  before  no  man,  he 
ever  bowed  in  lowliest  reverence  before  his  God ;  that  seeking  no 
patron,  climbing  by  no  dirty  arts,  and  determined  to  be  dependent 
on  no  man,  he  ever  felt  and  acknowledged  his  dependence  on  a 
higher  power. 

"  PRINCETON,  NEW  JERSEY,  Jan.  1870." 

CLOSING   SCENES. 

Hugh  Miller's  capacity  for  work  was  not  what  it  once  had  been. 
He  used,  he  said,  to  write  an  article  at  a  sitting ;  he  now  liked  to 
do  it  in  two,  relieving  himself  by  a  walk  in  the  interval.  This  was 
in  the  summer  of  1855,  and  the  weakness  which  even  then  was  steal- 
ing over  him  continued,  month  by  month,  to  increase.  The  mason's 
disease — the  presence  of  particles  of  stone  in  the  lungs — augmented 


DISEASED     STATE     OF     MIND.  515 

the  torturing  irritation  of  repeated  inflammatory  attacks  in  this 
most  sensitive  organ.  The  tendency  to  brood, — to  live  in  a  world 
of  thought,  and  meditation,  and  phantasy,  apart  from  that  of  living 
men, — which  he  had  manifested  from  childhood,  grew  upon  him 
as  his  physical  energies  decayed.  That  imaginative  timidity,  also, 
which  had  made  a  man  who,  if  confronted  by  a  lion,  would  have 
looked  it  down,  arm  himself  with  pistols  against  the  assassin  who 
might  lurk  in  the  recesses  of  a  wooded  glen,  or  haunt  a  lonely  road 
at  midnight,  fed  itself  on  the  accounts  of  garotte  robberies,  house- 
breakings,  outrages  by  ticket-of-leave  men,  of  which,  in  the  autumn 
of  1856,  the  newspapers  had  more  perhaps  than  the  dismal  average. 
Hugh  Miller  sympathized  with  Mr.  Carlyle  in  his  views  as  to  the 
necessity  of  subjecting  to  a  rigorous  discipline  our  professional  crimi- 
nals, and  the  folly  of  leaving  men  whom  repeated  conviction  has 
proved  to  be  incorrigible  to  prey  upon  the  community.  He  wrote 
upon  the  subject  in  the  Witness,  and  it  was  much  in  his  mind.  A 
slight  circumstance  was  sufficient  to  give  the  matter  a  personal  turn, 
and  to  convince  him  that  he  was  himself  exposed  to  danger.  In  a 
corner  of  the  grounds  at  Shrub  Mount,  Portobello,  where  he  now 
resided,  a  building  had  been  reared  under  his  direction  for  the  accom- 
modation of  his  beloved  specimens,  and  he  was  impressed  with  the 
idea  that  it  might  be  broken  into  and  robbed  by  the  prowling  mis- 
creants who  were  never  absent  from  his  imagination.  One  evening 
his  eldest  boy,  having  been  in  the  garden  after  dark,  returned  with 
the  news  that  he  had  seen  a  lantern  moving  among  the  trees,  and 
had  heard  whispered  voices.  Miller  went  out  to  survey  the  ground  ; 
and  though  nothing  appeared  to  be  amiss,  the  attention  of  the  house- 
hold was  awakened,  and  night  after  night  the  children  and  the  serv- 
ants had  tales  to  tell  of  mysterious  sounds  having  been  heard,  and 
strange  sights  having  been  seen.  All  this  influenced  his  imagination, 
and  pistol  and  sword  were  ever  in  readiness  to  repel  attack. 

At  this  time  Mrs.  Miller  and  her  husband  occupied  different  sleep- 
ing apartments.  A  severe  illness  had  almost  deprived  Mrs.  Miller  of 
the  use  of  her  limbs,  and  it  was  not  without  great  pain  that  she 
could  go  up  stairs.  It  was  therefore  necessary  for  her  to  have  her  bed- 
room on  the  ground  floor.  For  him,  on  the  other  hand,  the  air  of 
an  upper  apartment  was  considered  best,  and  he  slept  in  a  small 
room  adjoining  his  study,  on  the  second  floor.  Every  morning  anil 
evening,  during  one  of  his  illnesses,  Mrs.  Miller  ascended  to  his 
room,  "at  the  cost  of  an  hour's  severe  pain,"  to  minister  to  his 
wants.  At  other  times,  when  his  strength  permitted,  and  her  limbs 
were  powerless,  he  would  carry  her  in  his  arms  to  her  sofa,  "  in  the 
kindest  and  tenderest  manner." 

One  night  Mrs.  Miller  was  startled  by  her  husband  bursting  into 
her  room  at  midnight,  with  fire-arms,  she  thinks,  in  his  hand,  and 
asking  in  a  loud  voice  whether  she  had  heard  unusual  noises  in  the 
house.  She  answered  composedly  that  she  had  heard  nothing.  He 


516  HUGH     MILLER. 

went  into  his  eldest  daughter's  room,  and  made  the  same  inquiry. 
Soothed  apparently  by  the  result,  he  retired  to  his  own  room. 

There  were  other  matters,  however,  besides  this  imaginative  excite- 
ment on  the  subject  of  robbery,  which,  as  the  months  of  autumn 
were  succeeded  by  those  of  winter,  occasioned  deep  anxiety  to  Mrs. 
Miller.  The  time  was  approaching  when  the  "Testimony  of  the 
Rocks ' '  was  to  see  the  light,  and  her  husband  was  working-  at  it  with 
indomitable  resolution.  His  activity  had  always  been  high-strung,  but 
there  was  now-  a  feverish  intensity  in  his  application  which  amazed 
and  saddened  Mrs.  Miller.  He  had  been  on  the  whole  a  calm  and 
regular  worker,  had  loved  the  morning  air  and  devoted  the  hours  of 
night  to  slumber;  he  now  moved  restlessly  about  during  the  day,  as 
if  unable  to  concentrate  his  thoughts,  and  only  as  the  darkness  fell 
aroused  his  intellectual  energies  and  compelled  them  to  their  task. 
Night  after  night,  in  spite  of  entreaties,  he  commenced  his  toil  when 
the  rest  of  the  family  retired  to  rest.  Through  the  long,  silent  hours 
his  tired  and  throbbing  brain  was  forced  by  his  iron  will  to  forge  link 
after  link  in  the  argument  he  was  drawing  out.  Sometimes,  when 
Mrs.  Miller  awoke  in  the  morning,  she  heard,  as  she  thought,  the 
servants  beginning  their  work,  but  found  that  it  was  her  husband 
leaving  his.  The  slightest  noise  distressed  him.  That  his  nerves 
were  in  a  state  of  disorder  Mrs.  Miller  could  not  doubt,  but  the 
dread  which  tormented  her  was  that  of  apoplexy.  Of  insanity  she 
never  thought  until  the  appearance  of  other  symptoms,  but  the  vision 
of  Hugh  Miller  struck  down  by  apoplexy  and  carried  into  the  house 
constantly  haunted  her.  At  night,  before  bidding  him  farewell,  she 
would  linger,  on  one  pretense  or  another,  trying  to  find  an  oppor- 
tunity to  remonstrate  against  his  vigils ;  but  she  saw  that  he  was  nerv- 
ously irritable,  and  she  often  feared  to  speak,  lest  the  evil  she 
wished  to  abate  might  be  aggravated. 

Although  any  one  who  was  constantly  and  closely  with  him  could 
not  but  remark  the  change  which  had  taken  place,  his  manner  with 
friends  who  saw  him  in  occasional  interviews  remained  unaltered. 
Perhaps  a  deeper  tone  of  earnestness  mingled  in  the  genial  flow  of 
conversation  with  which  he  entertained  every  visitor,  and  the  rever- 
ence and  godly  fear  which  lay  at  the  very  roots  of  his  being  became 
more  than  usually  conspicuous.  On  Thursday,  the  i8th  of  December, 
a  friend  who  had  a  long  conversation  with  him,  "n^ver  enjoyed  an 
interview  more,  or  remembered  him  in  a  more  genial  mood."  On 
the  Saturday  following,  another  friend  from  Edinburgh  found  him  in 
the  same  state.  True  to  a  habit  which  had  characterized  him  from 
his  youth,  of  leading  the  conversation  to  some  book  or  topic  which 
was  occupying  his  mind,  he  repeated  with  deep  feeling  a  prayer  of 
John  Knox's,  which,  he  said,  "it  had  been  his  frequent  custom  to 
repeat  privately  during  the  days  of  the  Disruption."  There  was  no 
name  which  represented  more  for  Hugh  Miller  than  that  of  John 
Knox.  The  Scotland  of  Knox  and  the  Puritans  was  the  Scotland 


AT     CHURCH     HIS     L,A  S  T     SABBATH.  517 

which  he  loved;  the  Church  of  Knox  was  the  Church  for  which  he 
had  toiled  when  his  strength  was  in  its  meridian,  and  when  his  dawn- 
ing fame  first  thrilled  him  with  rapture;  the  faith  of  Knox  was  the 
faith  to  which,  after  Hume  and  Voltaire  and  Lamarck  had  done 
their  worst,  he  still  anchored  his  soul. 

Next  day  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Miller  went  to  church  in  the  forenoon, 
and,  on  the  way  home,  he  remarked  that  the  wind  was  cold,  and  that 
he  did  not  feel  well,  and  asked  whether  she  would  remain  at  home 
with  him  in  the  afternoon.  She  consented,  adding  that  she  was  very 
tired,  and  that  one  of  her  limbs  pained  her.  Mrs.  Miller  usually 
went  to  church  in  a  basket  phaeton,  but  did  not  use  it  that  day,  and 
her  husband  observed  affectionately  that  he  wished  he  could  carry 
her.  In  a  lane  opening  on  the  main  road,  a  few  yards  frsmi  the  gate 
of  Shrub  Mount,  there  was  a  poor  woman  who,  some  days  previously, 
had  met  with  an  accident,  and  Mrs.  Miller  now  said  that  she  would 
go  and  inquire  for  her,  remaining  not  more  than  a  few  minutes.  An 
expression  of  pain  crossed  his  face,  as  if  he  disliked  the  momentary 
separation. 

The  time  of  the  afternoon  service,  the  rest  of  the  household  being 
in  church,  was  passed  by  Hugh  Miller  and  his  wife  in  solemn  thought- 
ful converse.  The  reader  knows  what  she  was  to  him.  She  had 
been  his  friend,  respected  for  her  intellect,  honored  for  her  character, 
before  he  loved  her;  and  when  he  did  love  her,  it  was  with  the  in- 
tense and  passionate  devotion  of  a  strong  man,  who  never  loved 
woman  but  one.  .  .  .  On  this  Sunday  afternoon  he  was  in  his 
most  tender  and  confidential,  which  was  always  also  his  religious 
mood;  no  secular  matters  were  spoken  of.  ...  His  affection 
was  so  ardent  that  Mrs.  Miller  regarded  it  with  something  of  surprise. 
He  suddenly  seized  her  hand,  and  kissed  it  with  a  manner  she  had 
never  seen  befort.  "There  was  in  it  a  great  deal  more  than  affec- 
tion— an  air  of  courtliness,  so  to  speak,  indescribable."  In  ponder- 
ing on  this  action,  Mrs.  Miller  has  asked  whether  it  could  possibly 
have  had  the  meaning  of  a  farewell.  Comparing  it  with  the  strange 
and  painful  expression  which  flitted  across  his  countenance  as  they 
came  from  church,  she  is  persuaded  that  he  was  haunted  by  the 
dread  of  some  prostrating  stroke,  and  that  there  were  sensations  in  his 
brain  which  gave  him  the  idea  that  it  might  be"  near.  He  was  cer- 
tainly haunted  by  some  great  terror ;  but  it  was  not  the  fear  of  apo- 
plexy, it  was  the  fear  of  an  overmastering  paroxysm  of  insanity.  He 
spent  the  evening  quietly,  reading  a  little  book  on  a  religious  subject, 
and  writing  a  brief  notice  of  it  for  the  paper. 

On  Monday  morning  Mrs.  Miller  made  her  way  upstairs  before 
breakfast,  and  met  him  on  the  top  of  the  stairs.  He  said  that  he 
had  passed  a  bad,  restless  night.  At  breakfast,  which  only  Mrs. 
Miller  and  his  eldest  daughter  partook  with  him,  his  conversation 
was  animated  and  copious.  He  ate  nothing,  however,  merely  swal- 
lowing a  cup  of  tea,  and  his  mind  was  evidently  occupied  with  his 


518  HUGH     MILLER. 

sensations  in  the  night.  He  spoke  of  sleep-walking,  and  told  an 
anecdote  of  a  student  who  had  left  his  room,  clambered  on  the  roof, 
entered  an  adjoining  house,  _divested  himself,  night  after  night,  of  his 
shirt,  and  hidden  the  garments,  to  the  number  of  half-a-dozen,  in  a 
cask  of  feathers.  Breakfast  over,  he  recurred  to  the  subject  which 
had  never  been  from  his  thoughts.  "It  was  a  strange  night,"  he 
said;  "  there  was  something  I  didn't  like.  I  shall  just  throw  on  my 
plaid,  and  step  out  to  see  Dr.  Balfour."  Dr.  Balfour  lived  in  Port- 
obello,  and  was  in  customary  attendance  upon  Mr.  Miller  and  his 
family.  The  proposal  of  her  husband  astonished  Mrs.  Miller.  During 
his  whole  life  he  had  shown  the  utmost  reluctance  to  take  medical 
advice,  and  this  was  the  first  time  she  had  ever  known  him  speak  of 
going  voluntarily  in  quest  of  a  doctor.  She  cordially  approved  of 
his  determination,  and,  at  about  ten  o'clock,  he  presented  himself 
to  Dr.  Balfour. 

Of  the  consultation  which  followed  Dr.  Balfour  has  given  a  full 
report.  "On  my  asking,"  says  the  doctor,  "what  was  the  matter 
with  him,  he  replied,  '  My  brain  is  giving  way.  I  can  not  put  two 
thoughts  together  to-day ;  I  have  had  a  dreadful  night  of  it ;  I  can 
not  face  another  such.  I  was  impressed  with  the  idea  that  my  mu- 
seum was  attacked  by  robbers,  and  that  I  had  got  up,  put  on  my 
clothes,  and  gone  out  with  a  loaded  pistol  to  shoot  them.  Imme- 
diately after  that  I  became  unconscious.  How  long  that  continued 
I  can  not  say;  but  when  I  awoke  in  the  morning  I  was  trembling  all 
over,  and  quite  confused  in  my  brain.  On  rising  I  felt  as  if  a  stil- 
etto was  suddenly,  and  as  quickly  as  an  electric  shock,  passed  through 
my  brain  from  front  to  back,  and  left  a  burning  sensation  on  the  top 
of  the  brain,  just  below  the  bone.  So  thoroughly  convinced  was  I 
that  I  must  have  been  out  through  the  night,  that  I  examined  my 
trousers,  to  see  if  they  were  wet  or  covered  with  mud,  but  could  find 
none.  I  was  somewhat  similarly  affected  through  the  night  twicf 
last  week,  and  I  examined  my  trousers  in  the  morning,  to  see  if  I 
had  been  out.  Still  the  terrible  sensations  were  not  nearly  so  bad 
as  they  were  last  night.  Towards  the  end  of  last  week,  while  pass- 
ing through  the  Exchange  in  Edinburgh,  I  was  seized  with  such  a 
giddiness  that  I  staggered,  and  would,  I  think,  have  fallen,  had  I  not 
gone  into  an  entry,  where  I  leaned  against  the  wall,  and  became 
quite  unconscious  for  some  seconds.'  "  Dr.  Balfour  informed  him 
that  he  had  been  overworking  his  brain,  and  agreed  to  call  at  Shrub 
Mount  on  the  following  day  to  make  a  fuller  examination. 

Mr.  Miller  had  no  sooner  left  the  house  to  seek  Dr.  Balfour,  than 
Mrs.  Miller,  turning  to  her  daughter,  said :  "  There  is  something  un- 
usual the  matter  with  your  father ;  I  can  not  be  satisfied  with- 
out more  advice.  I  am  quite  certain  he  would  make  some  difficulty 
about  it ;  therefore  you  and  I  will  go  up  by  the  twelve  o'clock  coach, 
and  make  an  appointment  with  Professor  Miller  to  come  down  here." 
When  Mr.  Miller  returned,  he  mentioned  that  he  had  a  funeral  to 


C  CORRECTING     HIS     LAST     PROOF-SHEETS.  519 

attend  at  two  o'clock,  and  would  go  to  Edinburgh  by  the  twelve- 
o'clock  coach.  She  told  him  that  she  and  Miss  Miller,  having  some 
thing  to  do  in  town,  were  to  go  at  the  same  time.  He  inquired  par- 
ticularly what  was  their  errand,  and  Mrs.  Miller,  "acting  under  a 
stern  and  inexorable  necessity,"  put  him  off  with  the  statement  that 
they  wished  to  see  a  picture  then  being  exhibited  in  Prince's  street. 
The  picture  was  there,  they  wished  to  see  it,  and  they  actually  did  so  on 
this  occasion ;  but  the  principal  object  of  their  trip  to  town  remained 
unseen  in  the  background.  Professor  Miller,  "  with  his  usual  quick, 
decisive  kindness,"  said,  "I'll  be  down  to-morrow  at  three  o'clock." 
Mrs.  Miller  arranged  that  Dr.  Balfour  should  come  at  the  same  hour. 

When  she  returned  home,  she  found  her  husband  already  there, 
resting  on  the  sofa  in  the  dining-room.  He  told  her  what  he  had 
been  doing  since  they  parted,  dwelling  especially  on  the  precautions 
which  he  was  using  to  avoid  taking  cold.  In  return,  he  wanted  to 
know  exactly  what  his  wife  and  daughter  had  been  about  in  town. 
"We  saw  the  picture  as  we  intended."  "Nothing  else?  Was  that 
really  your  chief  business?"  Mrs.  Miller  saw  that  a  suspicion  of  the 
true  state  of  affairs  had  crossed  his  mind.  She  feared  his  serious  dis- 
pleasure, and  thought  it  possible  that,  if  not  treated  with  frankness, 
he  might  keep  out  of  the  way  and  defeat  her  main  aim.  With  hesi- 
tation, therefore,  and  placing  her  hand  on  his  forehead,  "Don't," 
she  said,  "  be  displeased.  I  went  likewise  to  Professor  Miller  to  ask 
him  to  come  and  see  you.  He  is  to  come  at  three  to-morrow.  You 
won't  object — you  won't  throw  any  obstacle  in  the  way — if  it  were 
only  to  relieve  my  mind?"  He  made  no  answer,  and  remained 
silent  for  a  considerable  time.  At  the  moment  he  was,  Mrs.  Miller 
thinks,  displeased ;  but  the  shadow  soon  passed  from  his  face,  and 
during  the  evening  he  was  in  his  gentlest,  kindest  mood. 

Next  morning  Mrs.  Miller  again  met  him  at  the  top  of  the  stairs 
before  breakfast,  and  was  relieved  to  find  that  he  had  passed  a  better 
night.  Immediately  after  breakfast  he  began  to  correct  the  last 
proofs  of  the  "Testimony  of  the  Rocks."  About  midday  he  be- 
came restless,  and  she  feared  that  he  might  make  some  movement 
which  would  prevent  the  consultation.  The  day  was  bitterly  cold, 
with  drizzling  rain.  She  made  pretenses  to  be  near  him,  watchful 
lest  he  should  slip  away  unnoticed.  At  last  he  proclaimed  his  in- 
tention of  going  up  to  town  to  anticipate  Professor  Miller's  visit. 
"I  can  not  bear,"  he  said,  "taking  him  down  in  this  way.  You 
know  his  generosity,  and  he  has  so  much  to  do."  "  Well,  believe 
me,"  replied  Mrs.  Miller,  "there's  not  much  he  has  to  do  he  would 
put  in  competition  with  coming  to  see  you  when  you  need  it.  Just 
look  at  the  day.  You  know  that,  if  you  go  out,  you  will  bring  on 
another  inflammatory  attack  in  your  chest,  and  then  I  shall  have  done 
more  harm  than  good.  Do  stay  now,  and  let  things  go  on,  if  you 
never  do  again."  "  Well,"  he  answered,  "I  will."  Mrs.  Miller  was 
passing  his  chair  at  the  moment,  and  putting  her  hand  into  the 


520 


HUGH     MILLER 


shaggy  hair  which  he  used  to  wear  on  the  top  of  his  head,  she  gave  it  a 
slight  tug,  "half  a  caress,  half  a  playful  rebuke  for  his  contumacy," 
while  she  thanked  him  for  complying.  "Don't,"  he  said  mildly; 
•"it  hurts  me." 

The  medical  gentleman  arrived  and  'the  interview  commenced. 
"We  examined  his  chest," — such  is  Professor  Miller's  report, — "and 
found  that  unusually  well ;  but  soon  we  discovered  that  it  was  head- 
symptoms  that  made  him  uneasy.  He  acknowledged  having  been 
night  after  night  up  till  very  late  m  the  morning,  working  hard  and 
continuously  at  his  new  book,  '  which,'  with  much  satisfaction  he 
said,  '  I  have  finished  this  day.'  He  was  sensible  that  his  head  had 
suffered  in  consequence,  as  evidenced  in  two  ways :  first,  occasionally 
he  felt  as  if  a  very  fine  poniard  had  been  'suddenly  passed  through 
and  through  his  brain.  The  pain  was  intense,  and  momentarily  fol- 
lowed by  confusion  and  giddiness,  and  the  sense  of  being  very  drunk, 
unable  to  stand  or  walk.  He  thought  that  a  period  of  unconscious- 
ness must  have  followed  this — a  kind  of  swoon — but  he  had  never 
fallen.  Second,  what  annoyed  him  most,  however,  was  a  kind  of 
nightmare,  which  for  some  nights  past  had  rendered  sleep  most  mis- 
erable. It  was  no  dream,  he  said  ;  he  saw  no  distinct  vision,  and 
could  remember  accurately  nothing  of  what  had  passed.  It  was  a 
sense  of  vague  and  yet  intense  horror,  with  a  conviction  of  being 
abroad  in  the  night  wind,  and  dragged  through  places  as  if  by  some 
invisible  power.  'Last  night,'  he  said,  'I  felt  as  if  I  had  been  rid- 
den by  a  witch  for  fifty  miles,  and  rose  far  more  wearied  in  my  mind 
and  body  than  when  I  lay  down.'  So  strong  was  his  conviction  of 
having  been  out,  that  he  had  difficulty  in  persuading  himself  to  the 
contrary,  by  carefully  examining  his  clothes  in  the  morning  to  see 
if  they  were  not  wet  or  dirty;  and  he  looked  inquiringly  and  anx- 
iously to  his  wife,  asking  if  she  was  sure  he  had  not  been  out  last 
night,  and  walking  in  this  disturbed  trance  or  dream.  His  pulse  was 
quiet,  but  his  tongue  foul.  The  head  was  not  hot,  but  he  could  not 
say  he  was  free  from  pain.  But  I  need  not  enter  into  professional 
details.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that  we  came  to  the  conclusion  that  he  was 
suffering  from  an  overworked  mind,  disordering  his  digestive  organs, 
enervating  his  whole  frame,  and  threatening  serious  head  affection. 
We  told  him  this,  and  enjoined  absolute  discontinuance  of  work, 
bed  at  eleven,  light  supper  (he  had  all  his  life  made  that  a  principal 
meal),  thinning  the  hair  of  the  head,  a  warm  sponging-bath  at  bed- 
time, etc.  To  all  our  commands  he  readily  promised  obedience. 
For  fully  an  hour  we  talked  together  on  these  and  other  subjects,  and 
I  left  him  with  no  apprehension  of  impending  evil,  and  little  doubt- 
ing but  that  a  short  time  of  rest  and  regimen  would  restore  him  to 
his  wonted  vigor." 

It  may  occur  to  many  to  ask  how  it  could  happen  that  medical 
men  so  circumspect,  so  vigilant,  so  able,  as  Professor  Miller  and  Dr. 
Balfour,  having  become  acquainted  with  these  symptoms  of  insanity, 


MENTAL     DERANGEMENT — "CASTAWAY.  591 

did  not  suggest  that  precautions  should  be  taken,  to  the  extent  at 
least  of  removing  fire-arms  from  the  person  and  presence  of  their 
patient.  Miller's  fear  of  robbery  had  returned  in  all  its  force.  A 
revolver  lay  nightly  within  his  reach.  A  broad-bladed  dagger  was 
ready  to  his  hand.  At  his  bed-head  lay  a  naked  sword.  Why  were 
not  these  taken  away  ?  The  reply  is,  that,  though  paroxysms  of  mad- 
ness had  already  visited  Miller,  he  had  revealed  no  trace  of  suicidal 
mania,  and  the  circumstances  under  which  his  mental  disorder  had 
originated  were  not  such  as  to  suggest  alarm.  His  brain  had  been 
overworked ;  but  the  labor  which  had  shaken  his  nerves  and  sapped 
his  strength  had  been  congenial  to  him ;  and  his  conversation  was 
that  of  one  who  looked  with  hope  and  with  interest  to  the  future. 
His  intellect,  besides,  apart  from  the  maniacal  belief  which  at  mo- 
ments oppressed  it,. that  he  was  made  the  sport  of  demons  in 'the 
night,  was  strong  and  clear.  That  powerful  action  of  the  mind  may 
take  place  even  when  it  is  under  the  spell  of  overmastering  mania  is 
demonstrated  by  the  fact  that  Cowper  wrote  in  a  single  day,  while 
suffering  "the  most  appalling  mental  depression,"  the  "Castaway," 
a  poem  which,  in  the  masculine  brevity  of  its  narrative,  and  the  con- 
centration of  its  magic  power,  is  altogether  masterly.  Listening  to 
the  conversation  of  Hugh  Miller,  which,  even  while  he  described  the 
agonies  that  tortured  him,  attested  the  vigor  of  his  faculties,  the 
medical  gentlemen  never  thought  it  possible  that  intensity  of  mental 
horror  might  suddenly  paralyze  his  will,  and  deprive  reason  of  con- 
trol over  his  actions.  It  is  so  easy  to  be  wise  after  the  event !  so 
difficult  to  forecast  the  steps  of  destiny !  The  riddle  of  the  Sphynx, 
once  we  know  its  solution,  looks  childishly  simple;  and  yet  it  took 
an  (Edipus  to  read  it. 

Professor  Miller  and  Dr.  Balfour  having  left  Shrub  Mount,  it  was 
now  time  for  dinner.  The  servant  entered  the  dining-room  to  spread 
the  table,  and  found  Mr.  Miller  alone.  The  expression  which  once 
or  twice  already  had  been  observed  on  his  features  was  again  there. 
His  face  was  so  distorted  with  pain,  that  she  shrank  back  appalled. 
He  lay  down  upon  the  sofa  and  pressed  his  head,  as  if  in  agony, 
upon  the  cushion. 

The  paroxysm  flittered  by,  and  when  Mrs.  Miller  returned  to  the 
dining-room  he  was  in  apparent  health.  She  naturally  shared  the 
hopeful  anticipations  which  Professor  Miller  had  expressed,  and  her 
mind  would  dwell  with  comfort  on  the  regimen  and  rest  which  were 
now,  by  medical  authority,  to  be  brought  to  bear  upon  his  case. 
After  dinner  the  conversation  turned  upon  poetry.  Miss  Miller, 
"  then  just  blooming  into  womanhood,  between  sixteen  and  seven- 
teen years  of  age,"  was  at  the  time  attending  classes,  and  among 
other  tasks  had  to  produce  verses  upon  given  themes.  She  consulted 
her  father  upon  her  performances,  and  he  would  take  the  opportu- 
nity of  delivering  a  chatty  little  lecture  upon  poetry,  taking  down 
from  the  shelf  the  works  of  some  well-known  author,  to  serve  for  the 


522  HUGH    MILLER. 

illustration  of  his  remarks.  This  evening  the  subject  of  lecture  was 
Cowper,  one  of  his  supreme  favorites.  He  ranked  the  bard  of  Olney, 
both  in  poetry  and  in  prose,  among  the  great  masters  of  the  English 
language.  The  verses  on  Yardley  Oak  he  would  often  refer  to,  as 
evincing  the  wonderful  power  with  which  Cowper  could  bend  the 
roughest  words  to  suit  his  purposes  of  delineation  and  of  melody. 
The  lines  are  perhaps  the  fittest  which  a  critic  could  select  to  illus- 
trate the  genius  of  Cowper.  They  have  that  brief,  decisive  force  by 
which,  at  his  best,  he  recalls  the  mighty  touch  of  Dryden,  with  a 
vivid,  eye-to-eye  truth  to  nature,  which  reminds  us  that  Cowper,  if 
the  poetical  child  of  Dryden,  was  the  poetical  sire  of  Wordsworth : 

"  Thou  wast  a  bauble  once  ;  a  cup  and  ball, 
Which  babes  might  play  with  ;  and  the  thievish  jay, 
Seeking  her  food,  with  ease  might  have  purloined 
The  auburn  nut  that  held  thee,  swallowhig  down 
Thy  yet  close-folded  latitude  of  boughs, 
And  all  thine  embryo  vastness,  at  a  gulp. 
But  fate  thy  growth  decreed  ;  autmnal  rains 
Beneath  thy  parent-tree  mellowed  the  soil 
Designed  thy  cradle  ;  and  a  skipping  deer, 
With  pointed  hoof  dibbling  the  glebe,  prepared 
The  soft  receptacle,  in  which,  secure, 
Thy  rudiments  should  sleep  the  winter  through." 

The  vein  of  reflection,  too,  obscured  by  no  mysticism,  yet  touch- 
ing on  deep  things,  which  runs  through  the  piece,  would  please 
Miller. 

"  While  thus  through  all  the  stages  thou  hast  pushed 
Of  treeship, — first  a  seedling,  hid  in  grass  ; 
Then  twig ;  then  sapling  ;  and,  as  century  rolled 
Slow  after  century,  a  giant  bulk 
Of  girth  enormous,  with  moss-cushioned  root 
Upheaved  above  the  soil,  and  sides  embossed 
With  prominent  wens  globose, — till  at  the  last 
The  rottenness,  which  Time  is  charged  to  inflict 
On  other  mighty  ones,  found  also  thee. 

What  exhibitions  various  hath  the  world 
Witnessed,  of  mutability  in  all 
That  we  account  most  durable  below  ! 
Change  is  the  diet  on  which  all  subsist, 
Created  changeable,  and  .change  at  last 
Destroys  them.     Skies  uncertain  now  the  heat 
Transmitting  cloudless,  and  the  solar  beam 
Now  quenching  in  a  boundless  sea  of  clouds ; 
Calm  and  alternate  storm,  moisture  and  drought, 
Invigorate  by  turns  the  springs  of  life 
In  all  that  live,  plant,  animal,  and  man, 
And  in  conclusion  mar  them.     Nature's  threads. 
Fine  passing  thought,  even  in  her  coarsest  works, 
Delight  in  agitation,  yet  sustain 
The  force  that  agitates,  not  unimpaired  ; 
But  worn  by  frequent  impulse,  to  the  cause 
Of  their  best  tone  their  dissolution  owe." 


AND      COWPER'S      POETRY.  523 

Mrs.  Miller's  little  Christmas  volume,  "  Cats  and  Dogs,"  which 
has  since  been  highly  popular,  was  then  passing  through  the  press. 
Mr.  Miller  took  a  lively  interest  in  it,  and  gave  a  warmly  favorable 
opinion  of  its  qualities.  He  now  asked  the  children  if  they  knew 
Cowper's  lines  "To  a  Retired  Cat,"  and,  on  their  answering  in  the 
negative,  read  them  with  sprightly  appreciation.  The  cat,  it  may  be 
remembered,  finding  an  open  drawer,  lined  with  the  softest  linen, 
concludes  that  it  has  been  prepared  expressly  for  her  accommodation, 
falls  fast  asleep  in  it,  is  immured  by  the  chamber-maid,  and  is  in 
danger  of  being  starved. 

"  That  night,  by  chance,  the  poet  watching, 
Heard  an  inexplicable  scratching; 
His  noble  heart  went  pit-a-pat, 
And  to  himself  he  said,  '  What's  that  ?' 
He  drew  the  curtain  at  his  side, 
And  forth  he  peeped,  but  nothing  spied ; 
Yet,  by  his  ear  directed,  guessed 
Something  imprisoned  in  the  chest, 
And,  doubtful  what,  with  prudent  care, 
Resolved  it  should  continue  there. 
At  length,  a  voice  which  well  he  knew, 
A  long  and  melancholy  mew, 
Saluting  his  poetic  ears, 
Consoled  him  and  dispelled  his  fears ; 
He  left  his  bed,  he  trod  the  floor, 
He  'gan  in  haste  the  drawers  explore, 
The  lowest  first,  and  without  stop 
The  rest  in  order  to  the  top. 
For  'tis  a  truth  well  known  to  most, 
That  whatsoever  thing  is  lost, 
We  seek  it,  ere  it  come  to  light, 
In  every  cranny  but  the  right. 
Forth  skipped  the  cat,  not  now  replete 
As  erst  with  airy  self-conceit. 


The  father  reading  and  remarking;  the  children  with  happy  faces 
and  merry  trills  of  laughter  clustered  round  his  knee  ;  the  mother 
tranquillized  and  hopeful  after  her  terrible  anxieties  of  the  preceding 
days, — such  is  the  spectacle  which,  on  this  Tuesday  evening,  two 
days  before  Christmas,  1856,  we  behold  in  the  home  of  Hugh  Miller. 
Mrs.  Miller  was  making  tea,  when  she  heard  his  voice  "  in  tones  of 
anguish,"  reading  "The  Castaway."  Here  are  a  few  of  the  verses: 

"  Obscurest  night  involved  the  sky, 

The  Atlantic  billows  rolled, 
When  such  a  destined  wretch  as  I, 

Washed  headlong  from  on  board, 
Of  friends,  of  hope,  of  all  bereft, 
His  floating  home  forever  left. 


524  HUGH    MILLER. 

"  Not  long  beneath  the  whelming  brine, 
.  Expert  to  swim,  he  lay ; 

Nor  soon  he  felt  his  strength  decline, 

Or  courage  die  away  ; 
But  waged  with  death  a  lasting  strife, 
Supported  by  despair  of  life. 

"  He  long  survives  who  lives  an  hour 

In  ocean,  self-upheld ; 
And  so  long  he,  with  unspent  power, 

His  destiny  repelled ; 
And  ever,  as  the  minutes  flew, 
Entreated  help,  or  cried  'Adieu!' 

"  At  length,  his  transient  respite  past, 

His  comrades,  who  before 
Had  heard  his  voice  in  every  blast, 

Could  catch  the  sound  no  more. 
For  then  by  toil  subdued,  he  drank 
The  Stirling  wave,  and  then  he  sank. 

"  No  poet  wept  him ;  but  the  page 

Of  narrative  sincere, 
That  tells  his  name,  his  worth,  his  age, 

Is  wet  with  Anson's  tear; 
And  tears  by  bards  or  heroes  shed 
Alike  immortalize  the  dead. 

"  I  therefore  purpose  not,  or  dream, 

Descanting  on  his  fate, 
To  give  the  melancholy  theme 

A  more  enduring  date ; 
But  misery  still  delights  to  trace 
Its  semblance  in  another's  case. 

"  No  voice  divine  the  storm  allayed, 

No  light  propitious  shone, 
When,  snatched  from  all  effectual  aid, 

We  perished,  each  alone ; 
But  I  beneath  a  rougher  sea, 
And  whelmed  in  deeper  gulfs  than  he." 

Mrs.  Miller,  however,  was  not  alarmed.  She  felt  that  her  husband, 
in  capacity  of  critic  and  reader,  was  merely  bringing  out  by  sudden 
and  skillful  contrast  the  range  of  Cowper's  power,  now  archly  droll, 
now  sternly  tragical. 

Early  in  the  evening,  as  might  have  been  expected  after  that  agi- 
tating day,  Mrs.  Miller  began  to  feel  weary.  She  went  to  the  kitchen 
and  gave  particular  orders  about  his  bath ;  then,  returning  to  the 
sitting-room,  she  remarked  to  him  that  she  was  "very,  very  tired," 
and  would  be  forced  to  leave  him  sooner  than  usual.  "Now,"  he 
said,  "  that  I  am  forbidden  ale  or  porter,  don't  you  think  that  in 
future  I  might  have  a  cup  of  coffee  before  going  to  bed?"  With 


"IN      THE      DEAD      OF     NIGHT?"  525 

some  hesitation  she  assented,  and  promised  that  the  coffee  should  be 
brought  him.  The  good-night  kiss  followed,  and  she  retired  to 
slumbers  which  were  probably  the  deeper  on  account  of  the  excite- 
ment and  fatigue,  the  anxieties  and  consolations,  of  the  preceding 
day.  Miller  went  upstairs  to  his  study.  At  the  appointed  hour  he 
took  the  bath,  but,  alas  !  his  intense  repugnance  to  physic  prevailed 
over  him,  and  the  dose  of  prescribed  medicine  was  left  untouched. 
From  his  study  he  went  into  his  sleeping-room  and  lay  down  upon 
his  bed. 

At  what  hour  can  never  be  ascertained,  but  either  in  the  dead  of 
night  or  in  the  gray  dawn  of  morning,  he  arose  from  the  bed  and 
half  dressed  himself.  Then  the  trance  of  paroxysmal  horror  again 
came  over  him,  and  the  maniacal  persuasion  which  had  for  days  been 
haunting  him  drove  him  mad.  He  rushed  to  the  table,  and,  on  a 
folio  sheet  of  paper,  on  the  center  of  the  page,  traced  the  following 
lines : 

"  DEAREST  LYDIA  :  My  brain  burns.  I  must  have  walked ;  and  a 
fearful  dream  rises  upon  me.  I  can  not  bear  the  horrible  thought. 
God  and  Father  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  have  mercy  upon  me  ! 
Dearest  Lydia,  dear  children,  farewell !  My  brain  burns  as  the  recol- 
lection grows.  My  dear,  dear  wife,  farew%ll ! 

"HUGH  MILLER." 

The  iron  resolution  and  courage  of  the  man  appeared  even  in  the 
maniac.  He  wore  a  thick  woven  seaman's  jacket  over  his  chest..  This 
he  raised  on  the  left  above  the  heart,  and,  applying  the  muzzle  of 
his  revolver,  fired.  The  ball  perforated  the  left  lung,  grazed  the 
heart,  cut  through  the  pulmonary  artery  at  its  root,  and  lodged  in  the 
rib  on  the  right  side.  The  pistol  slipped  from  his  hand  into  the 
bath,  which  stood  close  by,  and  he  fell  dead  instantaneously.  The 
body  was  found  lying  on  the  floor,  and  the  feet  upon  the  study  rug. 

A  post-mortem  examination  having  been  made,  the  following  report 
was  the  result: 

"EDINBURGH,  December  26,  1856. 

"We  hereby  certify  on  soul  and  conscience,  that  we  have  this 
day  examined  the  body  of  Mr.  Hugh  Miller,  at  Shrub  Mount,  Porto- 
bello. 

"The  cause  of  death  we  found  to  be  a  pistol-shot  through  the  left 
side  of  the  chest ;  and  this,  we  are  satisfied,  was  inflicted  by  his  own 
hand. 

"From  the  diseased  appearances  found  in  the  brain,  taken  in  con- 
nection with  the  history  of  the  case,  we  have  no  doubt  that  the  act 
was  suicidal,  under  the  impulse  of  insanity. 

"  JAMES  MILLER,  W.  T.  GAIRDNER, 

"A.  H.  BALFOUR,  A.  M.  EDWARDS." 


526  HUGH     MILLER. 

It  is  a  melancholy  satisfaction  to  reflect,  that  in  no  case  of  suicide 
which  ever  took  place,  can  the  evidence  of  insanity  have  been  more 
express  or  conclusive,  Had  no  trace  of  disease  been  found  in  the 
brain ;  had  no  word  written  by  Hugh  Miller  at  the  last  attested  mad- 
ness— the  overwork  to  which  he  had  subjected  himself,  the  excitement 
to  which  he  had  been  a  prey  would  have  afforded  adequate  grounds 
for  believing  him  insane.  But  the  actual  mania  which  was  gaining 
the  mastery  over  him  had  been  defined  by  himself  some  days  before 
his  death;  and  this  mania,  namely,  that  he  was  driven  by  witches 
or  demons  in  the  darkness,  is  specified  beyond  possibility  of  mistake 
or  doubt,  in  the  thrilling  words,  "I  must  have  walked."  That  even 
when  he  was  the  victim  of  mania,  the  tenderness  of  his  nature  sur- 
vived ;  that  he  could  still  discriminate  the  supremacy  of  his  affection 
for  the  wife  of  his  youth ;  that  the  cry  of  his  heart,  when  reason  was 
eclipsed  in  madness  and  the  shadow  of  death  fell  on  the  reeling 
brain,  rose  clear  to  God  the  Father  and  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ — will 
be  dwelt  on  with  sad  interest  by  those  whom  Hugh  Miller  taught 
to  love  him  with  inexpressible  love. 

"The  body,"  writes  Dr.  Hanna,  who  was  one  of  the  first  to 
see  it,  "was  lifted  and  laid  upon  the  bed.  We  saw  it  there  a 
few  hours  afterwards.  The  head  lay  back,  sideways,  on  the  pil- 
low. There  was  the  massive  brow,  the  firm-set,  manly  features, 
we  had  so  often  looked  upon  admiringly,  just  as  we  had  lately 
seen  them  —  no  touch  nor  trace  upon  them  of  disease  —  nothing 
but  that  overspread  pallor  of  death  to  distinguish  them  from  what 
they  had  been.  But  the  expression  of  that  countenance  in  death 
will  live  in  our  memory  forever.  Death  by  gun-shot  wounds  is  said 
to  leave  no  trace  of  suffeiing  behind;  and  never  was  there  a  face 
of  the  dead  freer  from  all  shadow  of  pain,  or  grief,  or  conflict,  than 
that  of  our  dear  departed  friend.  And  as  we  bent  over  it,  and  remem- 
bered the  troubled  look  it  sometimes  had  in  life,  and  thought  what 
must  have  been  the  sublimely  terrific  expression  that  it  wore  at  the 
moment  when  the  fatal  deed  was  done,  we  could  not  help  thinking 
that  it  lay  there  to  tell  us,  in  that  expression  of  unruffled  majestic 
repose  that  sat  upon  every  feature,  what  we  so  assuredly  believe,  that 
the  spirit  had  passed  through  a  terrible  tornado,  in  which  reason  had 
been  broken  down ;  but  that  it  had  made  the  great  passage  in  safety, 
and  stood  looking  back  to  us,  in  humble,  grateful  triumph,  from  the 
other  side." 

The  excitement  occasioned  by  the  event  throughout  Scotland  was 
tremendous,  and  no  such  funeral  had  taken  place  in  Edinburgh  since 
that  of  Chalmers.  He  was  laid  in  the  Grange  Cemetery,  near  the 
spot  where  Chalmers  rests. 

From  a  large  number  of  letters  received  by  Mrs.  Miller  on  the  oc- 
casion of  her  husband's  death,  the  two  which  follow  are  selected 
for  publication  : 


LETTERS  FROM   DICKENS   AND   CARLYLE.        527 

"TAVISTOCK  HOUSE,  LONDON, 

"Thursday,  April  16,  1857. 

"  DEAR  MADAM  : — Allow  me  to  assure  you  that  I  have  received  the 
last  work  of  your  late  much-lamented  husband  with  feelings  of  mourn- 
ful respect  for  his  memory  and  of  heartfelt  sympathy  with  you.  It 
touches  me  very  sensibly  to  know,  from  the  inscription  appended  to 
the  volume,  that  he  wished  it  to  be  given  to  me.  Believe  me,  it  will 
fill  no  neglected  place  on  my  book-shelves,  but  will  always  be  pre- 
cious to  me,  in  remembrance  of  a  delightful  writer,  an  accomplished 
follower  of  science,  and  an  upright  and  good  man. 

"I  hope  I  may,  dear  madam,  without  obtrusion  on  your  great 
bereavement,  venture  to  offer  you  my  thanks  and  condolences,  and 
to  add  that,  before  I  was  brought  into  this  personal  association  with 
your  late  husband's  final  labor,  I  was  one  of  the  many  thousands 
whose  thoughts  had  been  much  with  you. 

"  Yours  faithfully  and  obliged, 

"CHARLES  DICKENS. 
"MRS.  HUGH  MILLER." 

"CHELSEA,  April  15,  1857. 

"  MY  DEAR  MADAM  : — Last  night  I  received  a  gift  of  your  send- 
ing, which  is  at  once  very  precious  and  very  mournful  to  me. 

"  There  is  forever  connected  with  the  very  title  of  this  book  the 
fact  that,  in  writing  it,  the  cordage  of  a  strong  heart  cracked  in 
pieces ;  that  the  ink  of  it  is  a  brave  man's  life-blood  !  The  book 
itself,  I  already  see,  is  full  of  grave,  manly  talent,  clearness,  elo- 
quence, faithful  conviction,  inquiry,  knowledge ;  and  will  teach  me 
and  others  much  in  reading  it,  but  that  is  already  an  extrinsic  fact, 
which  will  give  it  a  double  significance  to  us  all.  For  myself,  a  voice 
of  friendly  recognition  from  such  a  man,  coming  to  me  thus  out  of 
the  still  kingdoms,  has  something  in  it  of  religion,  and  is  strange 
and  solemn  in  these  profane,  empty  times. 

"In  common  with  every  body,  I  mourned  over  the  late  tragic  ca- 
tastrophe; the  world's  great  loss,  especially  your  irreparable  and  ever- 
lamentable  one ;  but  as  for  him  I  confess  there  was  always  present, 
after  the  first  shock,  the  thought  that  at  least  he  was  out  of  bondage, 
into  freedom  and  rest.  I  perceived  that  for  such  a  man  there  was 
no  rest  appointed  except  in  the  countries  where  he  now  is ! 

"Dear  madam,  what  can  we  say?  The  ways  of  God  are  high 
and  dark,  and  yet  there  is  mercy  hidden  in  them.  Surely,  if  we 
know  any  thing,  it  is  that  '  His  goodness  endureth  forever.'  I  will  not 
insult  your  grief  by  pretending  to  lighten  it.  You  and  your  little 
ones,  yes,  you  have  cause,  as  few  have  had,  to  mourn ;  but  you  have 
also  such  assuagements  as  not  many  have. 

"  With  respectful  sympathy,  with  many  true  thanks  and  regards,  I 
remain,  Sincerely  yours, 

"T.  CARLYLE." 


528  HUGH    MILLER. 

"  Politeness  is  the  last  touch,  the  finishing  perfection  of  a  noble 
character.  It  is  the  gold  on  the  spire,  the  sunlight  on  the  corn-field, 
the  smile  on  the  lip  of  the  noble  knight  lowering  his  sword-point  to 
his  lady-love.  It  results  only  from  the  truest  balance  and  harmony 
of  soul.  Hugh  Miller  possessed  it.  A  duke  in  speaking  to  him  would 
know  he  was  speaking  to  a  man  as  independent  as  himself ;  a  boy,  in 
expressing  to  him  an  opinion,  would  feel  unabashed  and  easy,  from 
his  genial  and  unostentatious  deference.  He  has  been  accused  of 
egotism.  Let  it  be  fairly  admitted  that  he  knows  his  name  is  Hugh 
Miller,  and  that  he  has  a  colossal  head,  and  that  he  once  was  a  ma- 
son ;  his  foible  is  probably  that  which  caused  Napoleon,  in  a  company 
of  kings,  to  commence  an  anecdote  with  '  When  I  was  a  lieutenant 
in  the  regiment  of  La  Fere.'  But  we  can  not  think  it  more  than  a 
very  slight  foible ;  a  manly  self-consciousness  somewhat  in  excess. 
Years  in  the  quarry  have  not  dimmed  in  Hugh  Miller  that  finishing 
gleam  of  genial  light  which  plays  over  the  frame-work  of  character, 
and  is  politeness.  Not  only  did  he  require  honest  manliness  for  this ; 
gentleness  was  also  necessary.  He  had  both,  and  has  retained  them ; 
and  therefore  merits  fairly 

" '  The  grand  old  name  of  gentleman.' " 

It  was  impossible  to  be  long  in  Miller's  company  without  perceiv- 
ing the  ardor  of  his  devotion  to  science.  He  considered  literature 
inferior  to  science  as  a  gymnastic  of  the  mind.  For  the  facile  cult- 
ure of  the  age  he  had  great  contempt,  and  ranked  both  religion  and 
labor  as  stimulating,  training  agencies  for  mind  and  character,  higher 
than  what  is  commonly  called  education.  "As  for  the  dream,"  he 
says  in  one  of  his  books,  "that  there  is  to  be  some  extraordinary 
elevation  of  the  general  platform  of  the  race  achieved  by  means 
of  education,  it  is  simply  the  halucination  of  the  age — the  world's 
present  alchemical  expedient  for  converting  farthings  into  guineas, 
sheerly  by  dint  of  scouring."  All  that  he  had  won  had  been  won 
by  stern  effort,  and  he  had  no  faith  in  royal  roads  to  any  kind  of 
attainment. 

A  man  of  priceless  worth ;  fine  gold,  purified  sevenfold ;  delicate 
splendor  of  honor,  sensitive  and  proud ;  perfect  sincerity  and  faith- 
fulness in  heart  and  mind.  He  never  failed  a  friend.  His  comrade 
of  the  hewing-shed  sits  down  at  his  table  when  he  has  become  one 
of  the  most  distinguished  men  of  his  time ;  another  friend  is  discov- 
ered to  be  at  hand-grips  with  fortune,  and  he  applies  himself,  with 
cunning  delicacy,  to  solve  the  problem,  of  inducing  him  to  accept 
assistance.  This  was  the  manner  and  habit  of  the  man. 

Of  his  power  of  brain — of  his  genius  and  originality — his  books, 
viewed  in  connection  with  the  circumstances  of  his  career,  are  the  living 
witnesses.  To  their  testimony  must  be  added  the  fact  of  the  great 
influence  he  exerted  upon  his  contemporaries,  the  personal  weight, 
the  intellectual  mass  and  magnitude,  he  was  felt  to  possess.  Profes- 


ESTIMATE   OF   HIS  ABILITIES    AND    CHARACTER.    529 

sor  Masson,  commenting  on  the  curious  notion  of  a  Fleet  street  ora- 
cle, that  he  was  devoid  of  genius,  has  declared  his  conviction  that, 
"  if  the  word  was  applicable  to  the  description  of  any  mind,  it  was 
to  the  description  of  Hugh  Miller's."  If  we  estimate  the  amount 
of  obstruction  which  lay  between  the  mason  lad  of  Gairlock  and  Nid- 
dry,  and  the  Hugh  Miller  of  Edinburgh,  whom  Murchison,  Lyell, 
Agassiz  hailed  as  a  brother,  we  shall  admit  that  the  opinion  is  not 
prima  facie  unreasonable.  I  take  liberty  to  add  that,  if  genius 
means  an  indefinable  something,  conferred  by  nature,  inimitable,  in- 
communicable, never  given  twice  in  exactly  the  same  form  and  color — 
a  power  of  enchantment  which  all  men  feel,  but  no  man  can  quite 
describe — then  the  critic  who  denies  genius  to  Hugh  Miller  does 
not  understand  his  craft.  He  owed,  without  question,  much  to  cult- 
ure. Twenty  years  of  study  and  practice,  assiduous  reading,  careful 
self-correction,  were  required  to  perfect  his  prose  style  and  to  give 
him  the  complete  command  of  it  which  he  ultimately  obtained.  But 
all  this  only  brought  into  clearness  and  use  the  gift  born  with  him, 
a  gift  traceable  in  his  earliest  letters,  a  gift  of  tempered  mental 
strength,  of  brightly  keen  perception  and  broad  imaginative  vision, 
a  rare  gift  of  expression,  in  subtly  modulated  sentence,  and  exqui- 
sitely felicitous  image,  and  solemn  harmony  of  sense  and  sound,  and 
tenderly  brilliant  color  lighting  up  the  whole.  Mr.  Robert  Cham- 
bers proved  himself  to  have  the  true  critical  eye  when  be  referred, 
at  a  very  early  period  of  their  intercourse,  to  the  singular  interest  at- 
taching to  all  he  wrote.  The  omniscient  little  critics  who  deny  him 
genius  may  imitate  that  if  they  can ;  it  secured  Miller  a  large  and 
intelligent  audience  throughout  the  civilized  world,  an  audience  whose 
ear  he  caught  so  soon  as  his  power  was  revealed,  and  which  thirty 
years  after  the  publication  of  the  "Old  Red  Sandstone,"  continues 
to  extend. 

So  far  as  we  can  penetrate  the  charm  of  his  composition,  it  lies 
mainly  in  the  fine  continuity  of  it,  in  the  absence  of  all  jerking,  jolt- 
ing movement,  in  the  callida  junctura  not  of  word  to  word  merely, 
but  of  sentence  to  sentence,  thought  to  thought,  illustration  to  illus- 
tration. An  author's  peculiar  excellence,  if  we  have  rightly  discrim- 
inated it,  will  give  us  a  hint  as  to  where  we  should  look  for  his  beset- 
ting fault,  and  in  reading  Miller  long  at  one  time,  we  may  find  in 
his  billowy  regularity  and  smoothness  of  movement  a  sense  of 
monotony.  Yet,  after  all,  there  is  a  marvelous  enchantment  in  his 
books ;  the  breath  of  the  hills  is  in  them,  the  freshness  of  the  west 
wind  and  the  sea.  Shall  we  not  now  venture  to  decide — the  question 
was  left  open  when  it  last  came  before  us — that  it  was  advantageous  for 
him  to  break  away  from  school,  and  betake  himself  to  the  caves  and 
the  wood?  Nature  is  the  only  safe  nurse  of  genius;  education  is 
indispensable,  but  even  the  education  must  be  suggested  by  nature, 
and  come  at  her  prompting.  Shakespeare  was  an  educated  man ; 
he  had  a  large  knowledge  of  the  books  of  his  time;  but  all  genera- 
34 


530  HUGH     MILLER. 

tions  would  have  been  poorer  if  his  brain  had  been  drugged  in  boy- 
hood with  the  trite  erudition  of  Universities.  Books  came  to  Miller 
at  the  right  moment ;  when  he  had  already  so  filled  his  mind  with 
Nature's  imagery  that  they  could  do  no  more  than  genially  assist  him 
to  use  it.  To  read  him  is  like  taking  a  walk  with  him ;  we  are  never 
far  from  the  crags  and  the  waters,  the  dewy  branch  and  the  purple 
heather.  Compare  this  with  the  prim  urban  elegance  of  Jeffrey,  or 
the  hard  vehemence,  like  rainless  thunder,  or  the  full  gallop  of  cav- 
alry, of  the  style  of  Sir  William  Hamilton,  and  you  will  begin  to 
realize  how  much  Hugh  Miller  owed  to  the  circumstance  that  his 
Alma  Mater  was  his  mother  earth.  As  a  naturalist,  also,  and  as  a 
geologist,  his  power  came  essentially  from  the  same  source.  The 
hours  on  the  ebb  shore  with  Uncle  Sandy ;  the  tracing  of  the  subtle- 
ties of  life  among  the  minute  denizens  of  the  crystal  pools ;  the 
watching  of  the  race  of  the  waves  when  the  tide  turned,  first  slowly, 
tentatively,  listlessly,  each  timorous  wavelet  with  its  lifted  handful  of 
dusty  sand,  then  in  hurrying,  clamorous  advance  of  leaping  foam  and 
marshaled  surge  along  the  reaches  of  the  shore;  the  long  years  of 
toil  in  the  quarry,  and  of  wandering  among  the  hills,  to  mark  the 
fellowship  of  the  rocks,  and  learn  the  joints  and  curvature  of  the 
bones  of  the  world — these  gave  him  his  intuitive  sympathy  with 
Nature's  ways,  his  geological  eye  to  discern  how  THE  ARCHITECT  had 
put  together  this  and  that  bit  of  the  planet.  "  The  thing  was  done 
so,"  he  could  say,  "and  not  in  the  way  you  mention;  you  can  fold 
up  your  theoretical  demonstration  when  you  please." 

May  we  not  call  his  life,  first  and  last,  beautiful,  august,  heroic? 
From  the  father,  whose  very  image  he  in  later  years  became,  he  de- 
rived the  ground  work  of  his  character,  and  for  the  education  of 
conscience  he  was  primarily  indebted,  though  he  little  knew  it  at  the 
time,  to  his  Uncle  James.  In  early  manhood  he  was  encompassed 
with  hardship,  with  coarseness,  with  manifold  temptation.  His  soul 
took  no  taint.  He  rose  superior  to  every  form  of  vulgarity :  the 
vulgar  ambition  of  wealth,  the  vulgar  ambition  of  notoriety,  the 
vulgar  baseness  of  sensuality  and  license.  He  aspired  to  fame,  but 
it  was  to  fame  which  should  be  the  ratification  of  his  own  severe 
judgment.  "  I  have  myself,"  he  said,  "for  my  critic;"  and  while 
the  decision  of  this  sternest  censor  was  even  moderately  favorable, 
no  sneers  could  depress,  no  applause  elate  him.  His  course  was  a 
steadfast  pursuit  of  truth  and  of  knowledge,  an  unwearied  dedication 
of  himself  to  all  that  he  believed  to  be  true,  and  honest,  and  lovely, 
and  of  good  report. 


ROBERT  AND  WILLIAM  CHAMBERS, 


GRADUATES  OF  BOOK-STALLS, 


Printers,  Editors,  and  Publishers  of  the  "  Edinburgh  Journal,"  "  Chambers'  Information  for  the 

People,"  "  Chambers'  Cyclopedia  of  English  Literature,"  "  History  of 

the  Rebellion  of  1745,"  "  Book  of  Days,"  etc.,  etc. 


"HE    THAT    THOLES    OVERCOMES." 


PREFATORY  NOTE. 


ON  the  death  of  my  brother,  DR.  ROBERT  CHAMBERS,  numerous  biographic 
sketches  of  him  appeared,  both  in  Great  Britain  and  the  United  States,  all  of  them 
kind  and  complimentary,  but  in  many  cases  imperfect  or  erroneous  as  regards  certain 
leading  details.  It  seemed  to  me  that,  while  still  spared  life  and  opportunity,  I 
might  try  to  do  justice  to  the  memory  of  the  deceased,  by  giving  a  correct  history 
of  his  life  and  principal  writings. 

The  attempt,  however,  involved  a  difficulty.  Having  been  intimately  associated 
with  my  brother,  not  only  in  early  life,  but  in  literary  enterprises,  it  was  scarcely 
possible  to  relate  the  story  of  one  without  frequent  reference  to  the  other.  I  have 
so  far  yielded  to  this  necessity,  as  to  offer  some  Autobiographic  Reminiscences,  in 
subordination  to  the  principal  object  in  view.  To  this  extent  only  do  these  pages 
sketch  the  history  of  two  individuals. 

I  need  hardly  say  that  the  retrospect  of  some  early  events,  which  could  not  well 
be  omitted,  has  not  been  unaccompanied  with  poignant  recollections ;  but  if  a  perusal 
of  the  narrative  serves  in  any  degree  to  inspire  youth  with  notions  of  self-reliance, 
along  with  a  hopeful  dependence  on  Providence  when  pressed  by  adverse  circum- 
stances, I  shall  be  more  than  recompensed.  W.  C. 

January,  1872. 


ROBERT  AND  WM.  CHAMBERS. 

AUTOBIOGRAPHIC    REMINISCENCES,    ETC. 


EARLY  YEARS — l8oo  TO  1813. 

MY  brother  and  I  were  born  and  spent  our  early  years  in  a 
small  country  town  in  the  south  of  Scotland,  situated  amidst 
beautiful  scenery,  and  had  therefore  the  advantage — as  advantage  it 
might  be  called — of  being  acquainted  from  infancy  with  some  of  the 
noble  works  of  nature,  along  with  rural  objects  and  circumstances. 
The  place  of  our  birth  was  Peebles,  an  ancient  royal  burgh  on  the 
upper  part  of  the  Tweed,  where  our  ancestors  had  dwelt  from  time 
immemorial — the  tradition  among  them  being,  that  they  were  des- 
cended from  a  personage  inscribed  as  "  William  de  la  Chaumbre, 
Bailif  e  Burgois  de  Pebles,"  in  the  list  of  those  who  signed  bonds  of 
allegiance  to  Edward  I,  1296.  However  that  might  be,  I  was  born 
in  this  little  old  burgh,  i6th  April,  1800;  and  Robert,  coming  next 
in  order  in  the  family,  was  born  loth  July,  1802. 

For  the  place  of  birth  and  early  associations  almost  every  one  has 
a  peculiar  affection  ;  and  among  the  Scotch,  as  is  well  known,  this 
feeling  is  a  marked  national  characteristic.  It  will  not  seem  surpris- 
ing, therefore,  that  through  life  Robert  cherished  kindly  remembrances 
of  the  scenes  of  his  infancy.  A  few  years  previous  to  his  decease,  he 
began  notes  of  what  may  have  been  intended  as  a  memoir  of  himself, 
but  which  were  not  carried  farther  than  reminiscences  from  the  dawn 
of  intelligence  to  about  his  tenth  year.  Fragmentary  as  are  these 
memoranda,  they  abound  in  the  geniality  of  sentiment  for  which  the 
writer  was  remarkable,  and  serve  to  illustrate  the  state  of  things  in 
certain  by-corners  of  Scotland  sixty  to  seventy  years  since.  The  fol- 
lowing portions  may  accordingly  be  acceptable,  supplemented  here 
and  there  by  such  particulars  from  my  own  remembrance  as  may 
help  to  complete  the  picture: 

"In  the  early  years  of  this  century,"  he  proceeds,  "Peebles  was 
little  advanced  from  the  condition  in  which  it  had  mainly  rested  for 

(533) 


534  ROBERT      AND     WILLIAM      CHAMBERS. 

several  hundred  years  previously.  It  was  eminently  a  quiet  place — 
'As  quiet  as  the  grave,  or  as  Peebles',  is  a  phrase  used  by  Cockburn. 
It  was  said  to  be  a  finished  town,  for  no  new  houses  (exceptions  to 
be  of  course  allowed  for)  were  ever  built  in  it.  Situated,  however, 
among  beautiful  pastoral  hills,  with  a  singularly  pure  atmosphere,  and 
with  the  pellucid  Tweed  running  over  its  pebbly  bed  close  beside 
the  streets,  the  town  was  acknowledged  to  be,  in  the  fond  language 
of  its  inhabitants,  a  bonny  place.  An  honest  old  burgher  was  en- 
abled by  some  strange  chance  to  visit  Paris,  and  was  eagerly  questioned, 
when  he  came  back,  as  to  the  character  of  that  capital  of  capitals ; 
to  which,  it  is  said,  he  answered  that  '  Paris,  a'thing  considered,  was 
a  wonderful  place — but  still,  Peebles  for  pleesure  !'  and  this  has 
often  been  cited  as  a  ludicrous  example  of  rustic  prejudice  and  nar- 
rowness of  judgment.  But,  on  a  fair  interpretation  of  the  old  gentle- 
man's words,  he  was  not  quite  so  benighted  as  at  first  appears.  The 
'  pleesures '  of  Peebles  were  the  beauties  of  the  situation  and  the  op- 
portunities of  healthful  recreation  it  afforded,  and  these  were  certainly 
considerable. 

"There  was  an  old  and  a  new  town  in  Peebles — each  of  them  a 
single  street,  or  little  more ;  and  as  even  the  new  town  had  an  an- 
tique look,  it  may  be  inferred  that  the  old  looked  old  indeed.  It 
was  indeed  chiefly  composed  of  thatched  cottages,  occupied  by  weavers 
and  laboring  people — a  primitive  race  of  homely  aspect,  in  many  in- 
stances eking  out  a  scanty  subsistence  by  having  a  cow  on  the  town 
common,  or  cultivating  a  rig  of  potatoes  in  the  fields  close  to  the 
town.  Rows  of  porridge  luggies  (small  wooden  vessels)  were  to  be 
seen  cooling  on  window-soles ;  a  smell  of  peat  smoke  pervaded  the 
place ;  the  click  of  the  shuttle  was  every-where  heard  during  the  day; 
and  in  the  evening,  the  gray  old  men  came  out  in  their  Kilmarnock 
night- caps,  and  talked  of  Bonaparte,  on  the  stone  seats  beside  their 
doors.  The  platters  used  in  these  humble  dwellings  were  all  of  wood, 
and  the  spoons  of  horn  ;  knives  and  forks  rather  rare  articles.  The 
house  was  generally  divided  into  two  apartments  by  a  couple  of  box- 
beds,  placed  end  to  end — a  bad  style  of  bed  prevalent  in  cottages  all 
over  Scotland ;  they  were  so  close  as  almost  to  stifle  the  inmates. 
Among  these  humble  people,  all  costumes,  customs,  and  ways  of  liv- 
ing smacked  of  old  times.  You  would  see  a  venerable  patriarch 
making  his  way  to  church  on  Sunday,  with  a  long-backed,  swing- 
tailed,  light-blue  coat  of  the  style  of  George  II,  which  was  probably 
his  marriage  coat,  and  half  a  century  old.  His  head-gear  was  a 
broad-brimmed  blue  bonnet.  The  old  women  came  out  on  the  same 
occasions  in  red  scarfs,  called  cardinals,  and  white  mutches  (caps), 
bound  by  a  black  ribbon,  with  the  gray  hair  folded  back  on  the  fore- 
head. There  was  a  great  deal  of  drugget,  and  huckaback,  and  serge 
in  that  old  world,  and  very  little  cotton.  One  almost  might  think 
he  saw  the  humbler  Scotch  people  of  the  seventeenth  century  before 
his  eyes. 


ANECDOTES     OF     PECULIAR     PEOPLE.  535 

"  Apropos  of  the  box-beds,  there  was  a  carrier  named  Davie  Loch, 
who  was  reputed  to  be  rather  light  of  wits,  but  at  the  same  time  not 
without  a  sense  of  his  worldly  interests.  His  mother,  finding  her 
end  approaching,  addressed  her  son,  in  the  presence  of  a  number  of 
the  neighbors  : 

"  'The  house  will  be  Davie's,  of  course,  and  the  furniture  too.' 
"'Eh,  hear  her!'  quoth  Davie;  'sensible  to  the  last,  sensible  lo 
the  last.' 

"  '  The  lyin'  siller  '— 

"  '  Eh,  yes  ;  how  clear  she  is  about  every  thing  !' 
"  '  The  lyin'  siller  is  to  be  divided  between  my  two  daughters'— 
"'Steekthe  bed-doors,   steek  the  bed-doors,'   interposed   Davie? 
'she's  raving  now  !'     And  the  old  dying  woman  was  shut  up  accord 
ingly. 

"  In  this  old-town  population,  there  survived  two  or  three  aged 
persons  who  professed  an  adherence  to  the  Covenant  and  covenanted 
work  of  Reformation.  One  of  these,  designated  Laird  Baird,  remains 
clearly  daguerreotyped  on  my  memory, — a  tall,  bony,  grim  old  man, 
with  blue  rig-and-fur  stockings  rolled  half-way  up  his  thighs,  and  a 
very  umbrageous  blue  bonnet.  His  secular  business  consisted  in 
thatching  houses;  his  inner  life  was  a  constant  brooding  over  the  sins 
of  a  perjured  and  sinful  nation,  and  the  various  turns  of  public  affairs, 
in  which  he  traced  the  punishments  inflicted  upon  us  by  an  outraged 
Deity,  for  our  laying  aside  the  Solemn  League  and  Covenant.  He 
came  up  to  my  mother  one  summer  evening,  as  she  was  standing  at 
her  door  with  her  first-born  in  her  arms.  '  Ye're  mickle  pleased  wi' 
that  bairn,  woman,'  said  the  laird  gruffly.  •'  If  the  French  come, 
what  will  ye  do  wi'  him?  I  trow  ye'll  be  fleeing  wi'  him  to  the  tap 
o'  the  Pentland  Hills.  But  ye  should  rather  pray  that  they  may 
come.  Ye  should  pray  for  judgments,  woman, — judgments  on  a 
sinfu'  land.  Pray  that  the  Lord  may  pour  out  the  vials  of  his  wrath 
upon  us, — it  would  be  for  our  guid.'  And  then  he  went  on  his  way, 
leaving  the  pretty  young  mother  heart-chilled  by  his  terrible  words. 
Having  known  something  of  old-town  worthies  of  this  kind,  there  was 
no  novelty  or  surprise  to  me,  a  few  years  thereafter,  when  I  read  of 
Habakkuk  Mucklewrath  in  Scott's  'Old  Mortality.' 

"  I  had  reason  to  know  the  old  town  in  my  earliest  years,  for  our 
family  then  dwelt  in  it,  though  in  a  modern-slated  house,  which  my 
father  had  had  built  for  him  by  his  father  when  about  to  be  married. 
Our  ancestors  had  been  woolen  manufacturers,  substantial  and  respect- 
able people,  although  living  in  a  very  plain  style.  My  father  growing 
up  at  the  time  when  the  cotton  manufacture  was  introduced  into 
Glasgow,  had  there  studied  it,  and  now  conducted  it  on  a  pretty  ex- 
tensive scale  at  Peebles,  having  spmetimes  as  many  as  a  hundred 
looms  in  his  employment.  My  earliest  recollections  bring  before  me 
a  neat,  small  mansion,  fronting  to  the  Eddleston  Water;  a  tastefully 
furnished  sitting  room,  containing  a  concealed  bed,  one  or  two  other 


536  ROBERT     AND     WILLIAM     CHAMBERS. 

little  rooms  and  a  kitchen,  a  ground-floor  full  of  looms,  and  a  garret 
full  of  webs  and  weft.  Games  at  marbles  played  with  my  elder  brother 
on  the  figures  of  the  parlor  carpet,  when  recovering  from  an  illness, 
come  back  upon  me  as  among  the  pleasantest  things  I  have  experienced 
in  life ;  or  wandering  into  the  workshop  below ;  it  was  a  great 
entertainment  to  sit  beside  one  of  the  weavers,  and  watch  the  move- 
ments of  the  heddles  and  treadles,  and  hear  the  songs  and  the  gossip 
of  the  man.  Weavers  were  topping  operatives  in  those  days,  for  they 
could  realize  two  pounds  a  week,  sometimes  even  more,  and  many 
young  men  of  good  connections  had  joined  the  trade.  My  father, 
as  agent  for  Mr.  Henry  Monteith,  for  Mr.  Mcllroy,  and  others,  in 
Glasgow,  realized  a  good  income,  which  enabled  him  to  live  on  an 
equality  with  the  best  families  of  the  place. 

"  To  a  child,  of  course,  all  things  were  new,  and  the  first  occur- 
rence of  any  thing  to  his  awakened  senses,  never  fails  to  make  a  deep 
impression.  I  think  I  yet  remember  the  first  time  I  observingly  saw 
the  swelling  green  hills  around  our  little  town.  I  am  sure  I  could 
point  to  within  ten  yards  of  the  spot  where  I  saw  the  first  gowan  and 
the  first  buttercup ;  first  heard  the  hum  of  the  mountain  bee ;  first 
looked  with  wonder  into  a  hedge-sparrow's  nest,  with  its  curious 
treasure  of  blue  eggs.  A  radius  of  half  a  mile  would  have  described 
the  entire  world  of  my  infancy ;  of  that  world  every  minute  feature 
remains  deeply  stamped  within  me,  and  will  while  life  and  conscious- 
ness endure.  There  is  a  great  deal  of  studious  observation  in  a  child. 
Casual,  trivial,  and  thoughtless  words  spoken  by  his  seniors  in  his 
presence  go  into  him,  to  be  afterwards  estimated  and  judged  of;  so 
it  is  a  great  mistake  to  speak  indecorously  before  children. 

"  At  the  time  when  I  was  coming  upon  the  stage  of  the  world,  a 
number  of  old  things  were  going  out  of  it.  The  Rev.  Dr.  Dalgliesh, 
the  minister  of  the  parish,  still  wore  a  cocked  hat.  He  died  in  1808  ; 
and  I  can  just  remember  seeing  him  one  Sunday,  as  he  walked  home 
from  church,  with  that  head-gear  crowning  his  tall  and  dignified 
figure.  There  were  still  a  few  men  with  pigtails  whisking  constantly 
over  the  collars  of  their  coats.  Spencers  still  lingered  in  use.  Boots, 
formerly  used  only  in  riding  and  traveling,  were  also  in  vogue  with 
men  who  desired  to  be  smartly  dressed.  One  could  either  have  top- 
boots,  that  is,  boots  with  a  movable  cinture  of  pale  leather  at  top,  or 
tassel-boots,  by  which  was  meant  what  were  afterwards  called  Hes- 
sians, terminating  in  a  wavy  line  under  the  knee,  with  a  tassel  hang- 
ing out  over  the  middle  in  front.  A  buckish  weaver,  called  Willie 
Paterson,  had  got  a  pair  of  tassel  boots,  on  which  he  could  fasten 
tops,  and  thus  enjoy  tops  or  tassels  at  his  pleasure.  People  meeting 
him  when  he  went  to  church  would  say :  '  Willie,  I  see  this  is  top- 
day  with  you.'  Top-day  or  tassel -day  for  Willie  Paterson's  boots 
was  a  favorite  joke.  As  an  alternative  for  boots  were  gaiters  to  the 
knee,  originally  tight,  but  latterly  lax,  with  vertical  foldings. 
" '  Lax  in  their  gaiters,  laxer  in  their  gait,' 


SHOP-KEEPERS      OF      PEEBLES.  537 

is  a  line   in  the  '  Rejected  Addresses,'  which  strongly  recalls  to  me 
the  year  1812. 

"  The  new  town  was  a  smarter  place  than  the  old ;  yet  it  con- 
tained many  homely  old  thatched  houses,  and  few  of  any  elegance. 
The  shops  were  for  the  most  part  confined  and  choky  places,  with 
what  were  called  half-doors,  a  bell  being  generally  rung  by  customers 
to  summon  the  worthy  trader.  The  shop  of  the  candle-maker  was 
provided  with  a  bell-pull  consisting  of  an  old  key  dangling  at  the 
end  of  a  cord,  which  was  put  in  requisition  to  summon  '  Candle 
Nell,'  as  the  female  in  charge  of  the  establishment  was  familiarly 
called.  No  attempt  was  made  to  keep  up  an  appearance  of  business. 
All  was  quiet  and  sombre  by  day,  and  in  the  evenings  a  dim  candle 
on  the  counter  made  the  only  difference.  A  favorite  position  of  the 
shop-keeper  was  to  lean  on  his  arms  over  the  half-door,  gazing  abroad 
into  the  vacant  street,  or  chatting  with  a  casual  bystander.  I  do  not 
think  there  were  more  than  three  traders  in  the  town  who  had  any 
apprentice  or  hired  assistant.  If  the  husband  was  out  for  a  fore- 
noon's fishing  in  the  Tweed,  his  wife  was  his  sufficient  lieutenant. 
It  seems  to  me  remarkable  that  small  as  the  concerns  generally  were, 
the  family  life  of  these  people  was  of  a  somewhat  refined  character. 
The  tone  of  the  females  was  far  from  being  vulgar.  Accomplish- 
ments, such  as  are  now  so  common,  were  unknown  :  but  all  had  a 
good  education  in  English,  and  their  conversation  was  not  deficient 
in  intelligence." 

Considering  how  little  business  was  done,  and  also  the  easy  way  in 
which  things  were  conducted,  one  would  scarcely  be  prepared  for  the 
genteel  interior  of  many  of  the  dwellings,  or  for  the  tasteful  dresses 
and  courteous  manners  of  the  wives  of  the  tradesmen.  Though  a  trifle 
too  obese,  Candle  Nell  herself,  when  the  shop  was  shut,  could  receive 
company  in  style,  and,  addressed  in  her  proper  name,  do  the  honors 
of  her  brother's  household.  A  considerable  number  of  persons,  as 
has  been  said,  kept  a  cow.  The  going  forth  of  the  town  cows  to 
their  pasturage  on  a  neighboring  hill,  and  their  return,  constituted 
leading  events  of  the  day.  Early  in  the  summer  mornings  the  in- 
habitants were  roused  by  inharmonious  sounds  blown  from  an  ox-horn 
by  the  town-herd,  who  leisurely  perambulated  the  streets  with  a  gray 
plaid  twisted  around  his  shoulders.  Then  came  forth  the  cows,  de- 
liberately, one  by  one,  from  their  respective  quarters,  and  took  their 
way  instinctively  by  the  bridge  across  the  Tweed,  their  keeper  coming 
up  behind  to  urge  forward  the  loiterers.  Before  taking  the  ascent 
to  the  hill,  the  cows,  in  picturesque  groups,  might  have  been  seen 
standing  within  the  margin  of  the  Minister's  Pool,  a  smooth  part  of 
the  river,  which  reflected  on  its  glistening  surface  the  figures  of  the 
animals  in  various  attiudes,  along  with  the  surrounding  scenery  ;  the 
whole — river,  cows,  and  trees — forming  a  tableaux  such  as  would  have 
been  a  study  for  Berghem  or  Wouvermans. 


538  ROBERT    AND     WILLIAM     CHAMBERS. 

There  was  much  pleasant  intercourse  among  families  at  a  small 
cost.  Scarcely  any  gave  ceremonious  dinners.  Invitations  to  tea  at 
six  o'clock  were  common.  After  tea  there  were  songs,  with  perhaps 
a  round  of  Scottish  proverbs — a  class  of  sayings  which,  from  their 
agreeable  tartness,  found  scope  for  exercise  in  ordinary  transactions, 
and  were  more  especially  useful  in  snubbing  children,  and  keeping 
them  in  remembrance  of  their  duty.  The  Peebles  people  were  not 
behind  their  neighbors  in  the  art  of  applying  these  maxims.  As,  for 
example,  if  a  fastidious  youth  presumed  to  complain  that  his  porridge 
was  not  altogether  to  his  mind,  he  would  have  for  reply,  "Lay  your 
wame  to  your  winnin' ;  "  that  is,  "Suit  your  stomach  to  your  earn- 
ings,"— a  staple  observation  in  all  such  cases.  Or,  if  one  of  unset- 
tled habits  got  into  a  scrape,  such  as  "slumping"  in  the  ice,  and 
coming  home  half-drowned,  instead  of  being  commisserated,  he  would 
be  coolly  reminded  that  "An  unhappy  fish  gets  an  unhappy  bait." 
Or,  if  one  hinted  that  he  was  hungry,  and  would  not  be  the  worse 
of  something  to  eat,  he  would,  if  the  application  was  inopportune, 
be  favored  with  the  advice  in  dietetics,  "You'll  be  the  better  o' 
findin'  the  grunds  o'  your  stamick."  Or,  if  he,  on  the  other  hand, 
asked  for  a  drink  of  water  shortly  after  dinner,  he  would  be  told  that 
"  Mickle  meat  taks  mickle  weet ;  "  by  which  wholesome  rebuke  he 
was  instructed  in  the  excellent  virtue  of  moderation  in  eating.  Or, 
if  one,  when  put  to  some  kind  of  difficult  task,  said  he  wanted 
assistance,  he  would  get  the  proverb  pitched  at  him,  "  Help  your- 
sel',  and  your  friends  will  like  you  the  better."  Or,  when  a  family 
of  children  quarreled  among  themselves,  and  appealed  to  their 
mother  for  an  edict  of  pacification,  she  would  console  them  with  the 
remark,  "You'll  all  agree  better  when  ye  gang  in  at  different  kirk 
doors."  A  capital  thing  were  these  proverbs  and  sayings  for  stamp- 
ing out  what  were  called  notions  of  "uppishness"  in  children,  or 
hopes  of  having  every  thing  their  own  way. 

It  must  not,  however,  be  inferred,  from  a  proficiency  in  hurling 
these  repressive  maxims,  that  there  was  any  actual  deficiency  in  the 
affections.  Along  with  a  singular  absence  of  demonstrativeness,  there 
was  often  a  spirit  of  true  kindness.  At  that  period,  and  till  com- 
paratively recent  times,  there  was  no  demoralizing  poor-law,  such  as 
now  exists,  to  steal  the  hearts  of  the  people,  and  create  paupers  by 
wholesale.  Those  in  easy  circumstances  helped,  and  gave  some  little 
personal  attention  to,  their  poorer  neighbors ;  and  I  can  remember 
that,  on  the  occasion  of  a  sudden  death  by  a  distressing  accident  in 
the  family  of  a  laboring  man,  the  feelings  of  the  whole  community 
were  munificently  stirred  up  in  compassion. 

The  country  was  still  haunted  by  medicants  of  various  orders,  in- 
cluding old  decrepit  women,  who  were  carried  about  on  hand-bar- 
rows from  door  to  door,  begging  meal  or  half-pence.  The  town, 
also,  was  never  without  two  or  three  natural  idiots,  generally  harmless 
in  character.  The  most  interesting  and  amusing  of  these  was  Daft 


DAFT  JOCK  GREY'S   SONG.  539 

Jock  Grey — or,  to  give  him  his  proper  title,  "Daft  Jock  Grey  of 
Gilmanscleugh," — a  wanderer  through  Roxburgh,  Selkirk,  and  Peebles 
shires,  who  was  known  to  Sir  Walter  Scott,  and  possessed  qualities 
not  unlike  those  assigned  to  the  character  of  Davie  Gellatley.  Jock 
was  a  kind  of  genius,  had  a  great  command  of  songs,  and  composed 
a  ballad,  which,  commencing  with  an  allusion  to  his  own  infirmity, 
recited,  in  jingling  rhymes,  the  names  and  qualities  of  a  number  of 
persons  whose  houses  he  frequented  in  his  extensive  rambles.  It  may 
be  amusing  to  read  this  curious  jingle  of  names  and  places,  which, 
as  far  as  I  remember,  ran  as  follows,  though  it  is  proper  to  mention 
that  Jock  seldom  sang  it  twice  the  same  way — sometimes  throwing  in 
a  new  verse,  or  leaving  out  an  old  one : 

'DAFT  JOCK  GREY'S  SONG. 

"There's  Daft  Jock  Grey  o'  Gilmanscleugh, 

And  Davie  o'  the  Inch, 
And  when  ye  come  to  Singley, 
They'll  help  ye  in  a  pinch. 

And  the  laddie  he's  but  young, 

And  the  laddie  he's  but  young, 
And  Robbie  Scott  ca's  up  the  rear, 
And  Caleb  beats  the  drum.* 

"  There  are  the  Tails  o'  Caberston, 

The  Taits  o'  Holylee, 
The  ladies  o'  the  Juniper  Bank,f 
They  carry  a'  the  gree. 

And  the  laddie  he's  but  young,  etc. 

"  There's  Lockie  o'  the  Skirty  Knows, 

There's  Nicol  o'  Dick-neuk, 
And  Bryston  o'  the  Priestrig, 
And  Hall  into  the  Heap. 

And  the  laddie  he's  but  young,  etc. 

"  The  three  Scott's  o'  Commonside, 

The  Tamson's  o'  the  Mill, 

There's  Ogilvy  o'  Branxholm, 

And  Scoon  o1  Todgiehill. 

And  the  laddie  he's  but  young,  etc. 

"  The  braw  lads  o'  Fawdonside,  % 

The  lasses  o'  the  Peel, 
And  when  ye  gang  to  Firnielee, 

Ye'll  ca'  at  Ashestiel-t 

And  the  laddie  he's  but  young,  etc. 

•  Caleb  Rutherford,  town-drummer  of  Hawick. 

f  The  Misses  Thorburn.  Mr.  Thorburn,  farmer  at  Juniper  Bank,  is  reputed  to 
have  had  some  characteristics  of  Dandie  Dinmont. 

J  At  Ashestiel,  Ettrick  Forrest,  Sir  Walter  Scott  resided  with  his  family  for  sev- 
eral years  prior  to  1810;  from  this  place  he  dates  some  of  his  beautiful  introduc- 
tions to  the  different  cantos  of  Marmion. 


540  ROBERT    AND     WILLIAM     CHAMBERS. 

"  There's  Lord  Napier  o'  the  Lodge, 

And  Gawin  in  the  Hall, 
And  Mr.  Charters  o'  Wilton  Manse, 
Preaches  lectures  to  us  all. 

And  the  laddie  he's  but  young,  etc. 

"  There  are  three  wives  in  Hassendean, 

And  ane  in  Braddie-Yards, 
And  they're  away  to  Gittenscleugh, 
And  left  their  wheel  and  cards.* 

And  the  laddie  he's  but  young,  etc. 

"  There's  Bailie  Nixon,  merchant,! 

The  Miss  Moncrieflfs  and  a', 
And  if  ye  gang  some  farther  east, 
You'll  come  to  Willie  Ha'. 

And  the  laddie  he's  but  young, 

And  the  laddie  he's  but  young, 
And  Robbie  Scott  ca's  up  the  rear, 
And  Caleb  beats  the  drum." 

Jock  was  also  a  mimic,  and  as  such  gave  acceptable  imitations  of 
the  style  of  preaching  of  all  the  ministers  in  his  rounds.  Before 
commencing  an  imitation,  he  required  to  have  an  apron  thrown  over 
his  head,  and  thus  he  stood,  like  a  veiled  prophet,  for  a  few  mo- 
ments, as  if  recalling  the  appropriate  inspiration.  Attempts  had  been 
made  to  get  him  to  attend  to  regular  labor,  but  without  effect.  The 
minister  of  Selkirk  on  one  occasion  addressed  him  somewhat  pcAnp- 
ously:  "John,  you  are  an  idle  fellow;  why  don't  you  work?  You 
could  at  least  herd  a  few  cows." 

"Me  herd  !  "  replied  Jock;  "I  dinna  ken  corn  frae  gress."  That 
answer  settled  the  minister. 

Hogmanay,  the  last  day  of  the  year,|  was  the  grand  festival  of  all 
varieties  of  mendicants,  daft  folk,  and  children  generally ;  for  there 
was  a  universal  distribution  of  oat-cakes,  cheese,  short  bread,  and 
buns  at  the  doors  of  the  inhabitants.  Among  those  who  secured  a 
respectable  dole  on  such  occasions  was  the  town-piper,  dressed  in  a 
red  uniform  and  cocked  hat,  as  befitted  a  civic  official.  Piper  Ritchie, 
for  such  was  his  name,  enjoyed  a  munificent  salary  of  a  pound  a 
year  from  the  corporation,  along  with  a  pair  of  shoes ;  and  it  was  un- 
derstood that,  besides  his  dole  at  Hogmanay,  he  was  entitled  to  re- 
ceive at  least  a  groat  annually  from  all  well-disposed  householders. 
His  emoluments  were  completed  by  certain  small  fees  for  playing  at 

*  Hand-cards  for  carding  wool. 

t  In  Hawick. 

J  The  origin  of  the  word  Hogmanay  has  been  very  puzzling.  None  of  the 
ordinary  explanations  is  worth  any  thing.  I  venture  to  suggest  that  it  is  a  fa- 
miliar corruption  from  an  old  cry  in  French :  Aux  gufujc  mener  (bring  to  the 
beggars.)  The  calling  out  of  the  word  at  doors  by  children  and  mendicants  is  in 
this  view  quite  appropriate. 


DOMESTIC    FESTIVITIES.  541 

weddings.  In  escorting  a  marriage-party,  he  marched  with  becoming 
importance  in  front,  playing  with  might  and  main  a  tune  called 
"Welcome  Hame,  my  Dearie," — which  air  I  would  be  glad  to  re- 
cover. 

On  Hogmanay  Day,  tradesmen  called  personally  with  their  yearly 
accounts,  of  which  they  received  payment  along  with  some  appro- 
priate refreshment.  There  was  first-footing  on  New  Year's  morning. 
And  Handsel  Monday — the  first  Monday  in  the  year — was  marked 
by  tossing  a  profusion  of  ballads  and  penny  chap-books  from  win- 
dows among  a  crowd  of  clamorous  youngsters.  New  Year  was  also 
signalized  by  various  domestic  festivities.  The  severity  of  manners 
of  a  hundred  years  earlier  had  worn  off.  There  was  unrebuked  jovi- 
ality at  births  and  marriages,  and  even  in  a  solemn  way  at  deaths. 
In  the  house  of  the  deceased,  on  the  morning  before  the  funeral, 
there  was  a  Lyke-wake,  consisting  of  a  succession  of  services  of  re- 
freshments, presided  over  by  an  undertaker,  one  of  whose  profes- 
sional recommendations  consisted  in  saying  a  fresh  grace  to  each 
batch  of  mourners.  Laird  Grieve,  an  aged  and  facetious  carpenter, 
carried  off  the  chief  business  in  coffin-making,  in  consequence 
of  being  able  to  say  seven  graces  of  considerable  length  with- 
out repetition.  The  consumption  of  whisky  at  these  lugubrious  en- 
tertainments was  incredible,  and  sometimes  encroached  seriously  on 
the  means  of  families.  After  the  funeral,  there  was  an  entertainment 
called  the  Dredgy,  which  was  a  degree  more  cheerful  than  the  pre- 
ceding potations. 

Although  the  belief  in  witchcraft  had  died  out  generally,  it  was 
still  entertained  in  a  limited  way  by  the  less  enlightened  classes.  I 
have  a  recollection  of  a  poor  old  woman  being  reputed  as  a  witch, 
and  that  it  was  not  safe  to  pass  her  cottage,  without  placing  the 
thumb  across  the  fourth  finger,  so  as  to  form  the  figure  of  the  cross. 
This  species  of  exorcism  I  practiced  under  instructions  from  boys 
older  than  myself.  I  likewise  remember  seeing  salt  thrown  on  the 
fire,  as  a  guard  against  the  evil  eye,  when  aged  women,  suspected 
of  not  being  quite  canny,  happened  to  call  at  a  neighbor's  dwelling. 
The  aged  postman,  as  was  confidently  reported,  never  went  on  his 
rounds  with  the  letters  without  a  sprig  of  rowan-tree  (mountain  ash) 
in  his  pocket,  as  a  preservative  against  malevolent  influences.  There 
was  no  police.  Offenders  against  the  law  were  usually  captured  by 
a  town-officer,  at  the  verbal  command  of  the  provost,  who  adminis- 
tered justice  in  an  off-hand  way  behind  his  counter,  amidst  miscel- 
laneous dealings  with  customers,  and  ordered  off  alleged  delinquents 
to  prison  without  keeping  any  record  of  the  transaction.  Dismission 
from  confinement  took  place  in  the  like  abrupt  and  arbitrary  manner. 

As  will  be  observed,  there  was  still  much  of  an  old-world  air  about 
Peebles.  The  transit  to  and  from  it  was  tedious  and  expensive.  In 
winter  there  was  a  dearth  of  fuel,  causing  the  poorer  classes  to  rely 
for  warmth  on  that  species  of  deposit  from  cows,  mixed  with  coal- 


542  ROBERT    AND     WILLIAM    CHAMBERS. 

culm  and  baked  in  the  sun,  which  we  learn  from  the  Malmesbury 
Papers  was  used  as  fuel  in  Cambridgeshire  after  the  middle  of  last 
century.  Although  the  town  had  existed  for  a  thousand  years  or 
more,  it  possessed  no  printing-press.  Only  two  or  three  newspapers 
came  to  it  in  the  course  of  a  week,  and  these  were  handed  about  till 
they  were  in  tatters.  Advertisements  were  made  by  tuck  of  drum; 
the  official  employed  for  the  purpose  being  an  old  soldier,  a  tough 
little  man  with  a  queue,  known  as  "Drummer  Will."  It  was  told 
of  him  that  he  had  gallantly  beat  a  drum  at  the  battle  of  Quebec 
until  the  whole  regiment  had  perished,  he  alone  being  the  survivor, 
and  still  vigorously  beating  his  drum  like  a  hero  amidst  fire  and  shot. 
Now  settled  down  as  an  officer  of  the  civic  corporation,  Drummer 
Will  usefully  performed  the  triple  duty  of  acting  as  jailer,  constable, 
and  agent  for  advertisements,  which,  after  collecting  an  audience,  he 
read  by  means  of  a  pair  of  Dutch  spectacles,  and  always  pronounced 
adverteesements. 

Robert  describes  the  way  the  more  affluent  burghers  often  spent 
their  evenings : 

"The  absence  of  excitement  in  the  ordinary  life  of  a  small  town, 
made  it  next  to  impossible  for  a  man  of  social  spirit  to  avoid  convi- 
vial evening  meetings,  and  these  were  frequent.  The  favorite  howff 
was  an  old-fashioned  inn  kept  by  a  certain  Miss  Ritchie,  a  clever, 
sprightly  woman  of  irreproachable  character,  who,  so  far  from  the 
obsequiousness  of  her  profession,  required  to  be  treated  by  her  guests 
with  no  small  amount  of  deference,  and,  in  especial,  would  never 
allow  them  to  have  liquor  after  a  decent  hour.  When  that  hour  ar- 
rived—  I  think  it  was  the  Forbes-Mackenzie  hour  of  eleven  —  it  was 
vain  for  them  to  ask  a  fresh  supply.  '  Na,  na ;  gang  hame  to  your 
wives  and  bairns,'  was  her  dictum,  and  it  was  impossible  for  them 
to  sit  much  longer.  'Meg  Dods,'  in  'St.  Ronan's  Well,'  is  what  I 
would  call  a  rough  and  strong  portraiture  of  Miss  Ritchie,  a  Miss1 
Ritchie  of  a  lower  sphere  of  life ;  and  if  I  may  judge  from  a  conver- 
sation I  once  had  with  Sir  Walter  Scott  regarding  the  supposed  pro- 
totype, I  think  he  knew  little  about  her.  The  tout-ensemble  of  the 
actual  inn — a  laird's  town-house  of  the  seventeenth  century,  with  a 
grande  cour  in  front,  accessible  by  an  arched  gate  surmounted  by  a 
dial— with  the  little  low-ceiled  rooms  and  Miss  Ritchie  herself  ruling 
house,  and  servants,  and  guests  with  her  clear  head  and  ready  tongue, 
jocosely  sharp  with  every  body,  forms  a  picture  in  my  mind  to  which 
1  should  now  vainly  seek  to  find  a  parallel. 

"Into  one  of  Miss  Ritchie's  parlors,  or  some  similar  place,  would 
little  groups  of  the  burghers  converge  every  evening  after  the  shut- 
ting up  of  their  shops,  there  to  talk  over  the  last  public  news,  or  any 
petty  occurrence  that  might  have  taken  place  nearer  home.  There 
was  hardly  any  declared  liberalism  among  them,  for  the  exigencies  of 
the  country,  under  the  great  struggle  with  Bonaparte,  had  extinguished 
nearly  all  differences  of  opinion.  Dear  to  man  is  the  face  of  his 


VILLAGE     NEWS    AND     SOCIAL    LIFE.  543 

brother  man ;  pleasant  it  is  every  where  to  hear  that  brother  man's 
voice,  and  have  an  interchange  of  ideas  with  him.  In  that  lifeless 
little  town,  to  have  denied  the  inhabitants  these  social  meetings  would 
have  been  to  practice  the  greatest  cruelty ;  and  on  a  liberal  view,  ad- 
mitting that  the  means  of  a  more  legitimate  excitement  were  not  to 
be  had,  the  jug  of  whisky-toddy  at  Miss  Ritchie's  in  the  evening 
puts  on  a  defensible  aspect.  Toddy  might  there  be  regarded  as  the 
very  cement  of  society,  an  attraction  of  cohesion,  without  which  a 
small  country  town  would  have  been  pulverized  and  dispersed  into 
space.  I  suppose  the  same  end  was  served  in  former  times  by  two- 
penny ale,  a  liquor  of  which  only  the  fame  remained  in  my  youthful 
days ;  but  since  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth  century,  usquebaugh 
had  been  coming  into  general  use,  and  a  hot  solution  of  it  with 
sugar,  under  a  name  introduced  (strange  to  say)  from  the  East  Indies, 
namely,  toddy,  was  already  universal.  The  decoction  was  made  in 
stone-ware  quart  jugs,  and  poured  into  the  glasses  of  the  company, 
again  and  again,  in  successive  rounds,  as  soon  as  each  person  had 
drained  off  what  was  before  him;  those  who  lagged  in  their  pota- 
tions being  always  duly  prompted  and  pushed  on  by  their  neighbors. 
They  always  met  under  the  belief  that  they  were  going  to  have  just 
one  jug ;  but  somehow,  when  that  was  ended,  there  was  always  a  pain- 
ful feeling  of  surprise,  and  to  have  a  second  seemed  only  a  doing 
of  justice  to  themselves,  under  an  unaccountable  wrong  continually 
inflicted  upon  them  by  the  nature  of  things.  Matters  being  so  far 
righted,  they  might  have  been  expected  to  see  the  propriety  of  going 
home  to  their  beds ;  but  here  came  in  a  local  circumstance  which  inter- 
ested them  to  an  opposite  conclusion.  The  burgh  happened  to  have 
a  most  bibulous  coat  armorial,  consisting  of  three  fishes  (by  the  way, 
I  suspect  that  fishes  drink  no  more  than  land  animals  do,  though  the 
contrary  is  always  supposed) ;  and  so,  when  the  second  jug  was 
emptied,  some  one  was  sure  to  mention  '  Peebles  Arms,'  thereby 
hinting  the  duty  they  were  under,  in  loyalty  to  the  town,  to  have  a 
third  jug.  Such  an  argument  in  such  circumstances  was  irresistible ; 
and  thus  it  came  about  that  the  one  virtuous  jug  of  the  intention 
always  proved  to  be  three  in  the  guilty  event. 

"Our  neighbor,  Laird  Grieve,  the  aged  joiner  and  undertaker, 
had  a  son  '  Tarn,'  who  succeeded  to  his  business.  Tarn  was  a  blithe, 
hearty  man,  with  an  old-fashioned  gentility  in  his  aspect,  and  was  a 
general  favorite  in  the  town,  which  he  served  for  many  years  in  the 
capacity  of  a  bailie.  He  had  a  small  carpenter's  shop,  and  a  saw-pit, 
and  an  appearance  of  uncut  logs  about  his  premises ;  but  I  never 
could  connect  the  idea  of  either  work  or  business  with  Bailie  Grieve. 
He  continued,  however,  all  through  life  to  have  a  kind  of  eminence 
as  a  maker  of  fishing-rods.  He  was  also  an  excellent  angler,  in  which 
capacity  he  was  well  known  to  the  late  Professor  Wilson. 

"  It  used  to  be  very  pleasant,  in  returning  to  Peebles  as  a  visitor, 
to  call  upon  Tarn  at  his  neat,  small,  white  house,  near  the  bottom  of 


544  ROBERT    AND    WILLIAM     CHAMBEBS. 

the  old  town,  where,  in  a  miniature.terraced  garden  with  a  neat  white 
railing,  I  saw  tulips  for  the  first  time,  and  thought  them  the  prettiest 
objects  in  creation.  Being  a  widower  and  without  children,  the  bailie 
had  an  old  woman,  Bet,  for  a  general  servant  and  housekeeper ;  and 
her  reception  of  us,  as  she  opened  the  door,  and  showed  us  into  her 
master's  little,  low-ceiled  parlor,  was  always  of  an  enthusiastic  char- 
acter. Presently  there  would  be  a  gust  of  kindly  and  somewhat  vo- 
ciferous talk,  Bet  standing  within  the  door  (but  holding  it  by  the 
handle)  all  the  time,  and  lending  in  her  word  whenever  she  had  oc- 
casion. Dear  traits  of  the  old  simple  world,  how  delightful  to  recall 
you  in  these  scenes  of  comparative  refinement  and  comparative  stiff- 
ness and  frigidity!" 

Among  that  considerable  part  of  the  population  who  lived  down 
closes  and  in  old  thatched  cottages,  news  circulated  at  third  or  fourth 
hand,  or  was  merged  in  conversation  on  religious  or  other  topics. 
My  brother  and  I  derived  much  enjoyment,  not  to  say  instruction, 
from  the  singing  of  old  ballads,  and  the  telling  of  legendary  stories, 
by  a  kind  old  female  relative,  the  wife  of  a  decayed  tradesman,  who 
dwelt  ih  one  of  the  ancient  closes.  At  her  humble  fireside,  under  the 
canopy  of  a  huge  chimney,  where  her  half-blind  and  superannuated 
husband  sat  dozing  in  a  chair,  the  battle  of  Corunna  and  other  pre- 
vailing news  was  strangely  mingled  with  disquisitions  on  the  Jewish 
wars.  The  source  of  this  interesting  conversation  was  a  well-worn 
copy  of  L'Estrange's  translation  of  "  Josephus,"  a  small  folio  of  date 
1720.  The  envied  possessor  of  the  work  was  Tarn  Fleck,  "  a  flichty 
chield,"  as  he  was  considered,  who,  not  particularly  steady  at  his  legit- 
imate employment,  struck  out  a  sort  of  profession  by  going  about  in 
the  evenings  with  his  "  Josephus,"  which  he  read  as  the  current  news; 
the  only  light  he  had  for  doing  so  being  usually  that  imparted  by  the 
flickering  blaze  of  a  piece  of  parrot  coal.  It  was  his  practice  not 
to  read  more  than  from  two  to  three  pages  at  a  time,  interlarded  with 
sagacious  remarks  of  his  own  by  way  of  foot-notes,  and  in  this  way 
he  sustained  an  extraordinary  interest  in  the  narrative.  Retailing  the 
matter  with  great  equability  in  different  households,  Tarn  kept  all 
at  the  same  point  of  information,  and  wound  them  up  with  a 
corresponding  anxiety  as  to  the  issue  of  some  moving  event  in  He- 
brew annals.  Although  in  this  way  he  went  through  a  course  of 
"Josephus  "  yearly,  the  novelty  somehow  never  seemed  to  wear  off. 

"  Weel,  Tam,  what's  the  news  the  nicht?"  would  old  Geordie 
Murry  say,  as  Tam  entered  with  his  "Josephus"  under  his  arm,  and 
seated  himself  at  the  family  fireside. 

"Bad  news,  bad  news,"  replied  Tam.  "Titus  has  begun  to  be- 
siege Jerusalem;  it's  gaun  to  be  a  terrible  business;"  and  then  he 
opened  his  budget  of  intelligence,  to  which  all  paid  the  most  rever- 
ential attention.  The  protracted  and  severe  famine  which  was  en- 
dured by  the  besieged  Jews  was  a  theme  which  kept  several  families 


MODES     OF     LIVING EIGHTEENTH     CENTURY.     545 

in  a  state  of  agony  for  a  week ;  and  when  Tarn  in  his  readings  came 
to  the  final  conflict  and  destruction  of  the  city  by  the  Roman  general, 
there  was  a  perfect  paroxysm  of  horror.  At  such  seances  my  brother 
and  I  were  delighted  listeners.  All  honor  to  the  memory  of  Tam 
Fleck. 

In  the  old-town  community,  where  he  often  figured,  our  more  im- 
mediate paternal  ancestors,  as  enjoying  the  fruits  of  uninterrupted 
frugality  and  industry  for  centuries,  had  attained  to  a  somewhat  en- 
viable position.  My  grandfather,  William  Chambers,  continuing  the 
occupation  of  his  predecessors,  carried  on  the  manufacture  of  woolen 
and  linen  cloths,  on  what  would  now  be  called  an  antiquated  and 
meager  scale,  in  a  long,  thatched  building  at  the  corner  of  a  quad- 
rangle which  in  old  times  had  formed  the  market-place  of  the  town. 
One  end  of  this  homely  structure  was  his  dwelling,  consisting  of  two 
apartments ;  and  in  the  other  were  several  hand-looms  and  warping 
machines.  All  the  family  labored  according  to  their  ability,  'and  the 
whole  arrangements  were  of  a  thrifty  kind,  not  absolutely  enjoined 
by  the  pressure  of  daily  wants,  but  conformable  to  the  ordinary  usages 
of  the  period. 

The  whole  establishment  might  be  taken  as  a  type  of  a  state  of 
society  once  common  in  the  smaller  provincial  towns  of  Scotland ; 
and  contrasting  it  with  the  present  state  of  things,  we  may  observe 
the  remarkable  advances  which  have  been  made  in  the  country  since 
the  latter  part  of  the  eighteenth  century.  Here  was  ~a  man  of  some 
consideration — an  independent  manufacturer,  so  to  speak — and  in  no 
respect  penurious,  living  in  a  style  inferior  to  that  of  any  mechanic 
in  the  present  day  with  a  wage  of  only  twenty  shillings  a  week.  No 
elegances,  nor  what  we  now  deem  indispensable  comforts.  When 
people  are  inclined  to  grumble  with  their  accommodations,  and  to 
speak  of  the  dearth  of  luxuries,  would  it  not  be  well  for  them,  in 
however  small  a  degree,  to  compare  their  condition  with  that  of  their 
grandfathers  three-quarters  of  a  century  ago  ? 

Upright,  pious,  and  benevolent,  my  grandfather  very  acceptably 
held  the  office  of  an  elder  of  the  church  for  the  last  thirty  years  of 
his  existence.  To  the  poor  and  wretched  he  was  an  ever  ready 
friend,  adviser,  and  consoler.  I  have  heard  it  related  that  on  Sunday 
evenings  he  would  return  exhausted  with  his  religious  peregrinations 
and  exercises,  having,  in  the  course  of  a  few  hours,  visited  perhaps 
as  many  as  a  dozen  sick  or  dying  persons,  and  offered  up  an  extem- 
pore and  suitable  prayer  with  each.  At  his  death,  in  1799,  this 
worthy  man  left  his  widow  and  second  son,  William,  to  carry  on  the 
business,  my  father  James,  the  elder  son,  having  about  the  same  pe- 
riod begun  his  cotton  manufacturing  concern. 

Of  this  widow,  my  grandmother,  I  retain  some  recollections.     Ac- 
cording to   an   old  custom   in  Scotland,   she  was,  though  married, 
known  only  by  her  maiden  name,  which  was  Margaret  Kerr.     Mar- 
garet was  a   little  woman,  of  plain    appearance,  a  great  stickler  on 
35 


54<>  ROBERT    AND     WILLIAM     CHAMBERS. 

points  of  controversial  divinity,  a  rigorous  critic  of  sermons,  and  a 
severe  censor  of  what  she  considered  degenerating  manners.  She 
possessed  a  good  deal  of  "  character,"  and  might  almost  be  taken  for 
the  original  of  Mause  Headrigg.  As  the  wife  of  a  ruling  elder,  she 
possibly  imagined  that  she  was  entitled  to  exercise  a  certain  authority 
in  ecclesiastical  matters.  An  anecdote  is  told  of  her  having  once 
taken  the  venerable  Dr.  Dalgliesh,  the  parish  minister,  through  hands. 
In  presence  of  a  number  of  neighbors,  she  thought  fit  to  lecture  him 
on  that  particularly  delicate  subject,  his  wife's  dress:  "It  was  a  sin 
and  a  shame  to  see  sae  mickle  finefy." 

The  minister  did  not  deny  the  charge,  but  dexterously  encountered 
her  with  the  Socratic  method  of  argument :   "  So,  Margaret,  you  think 
that  ornament  is  useless  and  sinful  in  a  lady's  dress?" 
"Certainly  I  do." 

"  Then  may  I  ask  why  you  wear  that  ribbon  around  your  cap  ?  A 
piece  of  cord  would  surely  do  quite  as  well." 

Disconcerted  with  this  unforeseen  turn  of  affairs,  Margaret  deter- 
minedly rejoined  in  an  undertone:  "Ye'll  no  hae  lang  to  speer  sic 
a  like  question." 

Next  day  her  cap  was  bound  with  a  piece  of  white  tape;  and  never 
afterwards,  till  the  day  of  her  death,  did  she  wear  a  ribbon,  or  any 
morsel  of  ornament.  I  am  doubtful  if  we  could  match  this  out  of 
Scotland.  For  a  novelist  to  depict  characters  of  this  kind,  he  would 
require  to  see  them  in  real  life;  no  imagination  could  reach  them. 
Sir  Walter  Scott  both  saw  and  talked  with  them,  for  they  were  not 
extinct  in  his  day. 

The  mortifying  rebuff  about  the  ribbon,  perhaps,  had  some  influ- 
ence in  making  my  ancestress  a  Seceder.  As  she  lived  near  the 
manse,  I  am  afraid  she  must  have  been  a  good  deal  of  a  thorn  in  the 
side  of  a  parish  minister,  notwithstanding  all  the  palliatives  of  her 
good-natured  husband,  the  elder.  At  length  an  incident  occurred, 
which  sent  her  abruptly  off  to  a  recently  erected  meeting-house,  to 
which  a  promising  young  preacher,  Mr.  Leckie,  had  been  appointed. 
It  was  a  bright  summer  morning  about  five  o'clock,  when  Margaret 
left  her  husband's  side  as  usual,  and  went  out  to  see  her  cow  attended 
to.  Before  three  minutes  had  elapsed,  her  husband  was  aroused  by 
her  coming  in  with  dismal  cries:  "Eh,  sirs!  eh,  sirs!  did  I  ever 
think  to  live  to  see  the  day?  O  man,  O  man,  O  William,  this  is  a 
terrible  thing  indeed!  Could  I  ever  have  thought  to  see't?" 

"Gracious,  woman!"  exclaimed  the  worthy  elder,  by  this  time 
fully  awake,  "what  is't?  Is  the  coo  deid?"  for  it  seemed  to  him 
that  no  greater  calamity  could  have  been  expected  to  produce  such 
doleful  exclamations. 

"The  coo  deid  !"   responded  Margaret:   "waur,  waur,  ten  times 
waur.     There's  Dr.  Dalgliesh  only  now  gaun  hame  at  five  o'clock  in 
the  morning.     It's  aufu',  it's  aufu'  !     What  will  things  come  to?" 
The  elder,  though  a  pattern  of  propriety  himself,  is  not  recorded 


FOOD     IN    SCOTLAND,     MIDDLE     OF    LAST    CENTURY.    547 

as  having  taken  any  but  a  mild  view  of  the  minister's  conduct,  more 
particularly  as  he  knew  that  the  patron  of  the  parish  was  at  Miss 
Ritchie's  inn,  and  that  the  reverend  divine  might  have  been  detained 
rather  late  with  him  against  his  will.  The  strenuous  Margaret  drew 
no  such  charitable  conclusions.  She  joined  the  Secession  congrega- 
tion next  day,  and  never  again  attended  the  parish  church. 

EARLY  YEARS  CONTINUED l8oO  TO  1813. 

Before  introducing  my  mother  to  the  modest  mansion,  the  first 
home  of  her  married  life,  situated  on  the  north  bank  of  the  Eddies- 
ton  Water,  a  small  tributary  of  the  Tweed,  something  characteristic 
of  old  Scotland  may  be  said  of  her  parentage :  and  here  we  return 
to  Robert's  manuscript. 

"In  the  middle  of  the  last  century,  the  farm  of  Jedderfield,  situated 
on  the  hill-face  above  Neidpath  Castle,  a  mile  from  Peebles,  the 
property  of  the  Earl  of  March,  was  occupied,  at  the  rent  of  eighteen 
pounds,  by  an  honest  man  named  David  Grieve.  While  the 
noble  proprietor  was  pursuing  his  career  of  sport  and  debauchery  in 
London — the  course  which  was  consummated  by  him  many  years 
after,  under  the  title  which  he  finally  acquired  of  Duke  of  Queens- 
berry  (familiarly  Old  (?.), — the  tenant,  David  Grieve,  reared  on  that 
small  bit  of  his  lordship's  domains  a  family  of  fourteen  children, 
most  of  whom  floated  on  by  their  own  merits  to  much  superior  posi- 
tions in  life  :  one  to  be  a  merchant  in  Manchester,  two  to  similar 
positions  in  Edinburgh,  one  to  be  a  surgeon  in  the  East  India 
Company's  service,  and  so  forth.  This  family  afforded  an  example 
of  the  virtuous,  frugal  life  of  the  rural  people  of  Scotland  previous  to 
that  extension  of  industry  which  brought  wealth  and  many  comforts 
into  our  country.  The  breakfast  was  oatmeal  porridge ;  the  supper, 
a  thinner  farinaceous  composition  named  sowens ;  for  the  dinner, 
there  was  seldom  butcher-meat :  the  ordinary  mess  was  a  thin  broth 
called  Lenten  keil,  composed  of  a  ball  of  oat-meal  kneaded  up  with 
butter,  boiled  in  an  infusion  of  cabbage,  and  eaten  with  barley  or 
pease  meal  bannocks.  Strange  as  it  may  seem,  a  people  of  many 
fine  qualities  were  reared  in  this  plain  style,  a  people  of  bone  and 
muscle,  mentally  as  well  as  physically — '  buirdly  chiels  and  clever 
hizzies,'  as  Burns  says.  There  was  not  a  particle  of  luxury  in  that 
Sabine  life;  hardly  a  single  article  of  the  kind  sold  in  shops  was 
used.  The  food  was  all  obtained  from  the  farm,  and  the  clothing  was 
wholly  of  homespun.  I  can  not  be  under  any  mistake  about  it,  for 
I  have  often  heard  the  household  and  its  ways  described  by  my  ma- 
ternal grandmother,  who  was  David  Grieve's  eldest  daughter.  Even 
the  education  of  the  children  was  conducted  at  home,  the  mother 
giving  them  lessons  while  seated  at  her  spinning-wheel. 

"  Janet,  the  eldest  girl,  was  wedded  at  eighteen  by  a  middle-aged 


548  ROBERT     AND     WILLIAM    CHAMBERS. 

farmer,  named  William  Gibson,  who  rented  a  large  tract  of  pasturage 
belonging  to  Dr.  Hay,  of  Haystoun.  This  farm,  called  Newby,  was 
not  less  than  seven  miles  long;  it  commenced  near  Haystoun,  about 
two  miles  from  Peebles,  and  at  the  other  extremity  bordered  on 
Blackhouse,  in  Selkirkshire,  where  the  Ettrick  Shepherd  spent  his 
youthful  days.  The  Gibsons  were  a  numerous  clan  in  Tweeddale, 
and  some  of  them,  including  the  tenant  of  Newby,  were  comparatively 
wealthy.  William  Gibson  had  never  less  than  a  hundred  score  of 
sheep  on  his  farm,  and  such  was  the  abundance  of  ewe-milk,  that, 
for  a  part  of  the  year,  his  wife  made  a  cheese  of  that  material  every 
day."  The  ewes  were  milked  early  in  the  morning  by  lassies,  who 
for  this  purpose  trooped  off  with  bowies,  or  pails,  on  their  heads  from 
the  homestead  to  sheep-pens  among  the  hills, — a  fashion  of  rural  life 
commemorated  in  the  songs  of  Ramsey  and  other  Scottish  poets : 

"  I've  heard  the  liltin'  at  the  ewe  milkin', 

Lasses  a-liltin'  before  dawn  of  day  ; 
Now  there's  a  moanin'  on  ilka  green  loanin' — 
The  Flowers  of  the  Forest  are  a'  wede  away." 

In  marrying  William  Gibson,  the  reputedly  rich  farmer  of  Newby, 
Janet  Grieve  was  thought  to  make  an  enviable  match,  and  of  this 
there  was  some  outward  tokens.  The  marriage  took  place  in  1768. 
On  the  day  preceding  the  event,  Janet's  "  providing,"  which  was 
sumptuous,  was  dispatched  in  a  cart  from  Jedderfield  to  what  was  to 
be  her  new  home ;  the  load  of  various  articles  being  conspicuously 
surmounted  by  a  spinning-wheel,  decorated  with  ribbons  of  different 
colors.  The  marriage  was  signalized  by  more  than  the  customary 
festivities,  in  the  midst  of  which  the  young  and  blooming  bride  was 
placed  behind  her  husband  on  horseback ;  and  thus,  after  pacing 
grandly  through  Peebles  with  a  following  of  rustic  cavaliers,  the  wed- 
ded pair  arrived  at  Newby.  In  the  present  day,  we  should  in  vain 
look  for  this  old  farm-establishment,  for  every  vestige  of  it  is  gone ; 
and  we  only  discover  the  spot,  which  is  the  edge  of  a  gowany  bank 
overhanging  Haystoun  Burn,  by  a  decayed  tree  that  flourished  in  the 
corner  of  the  small  garden. 

"  There  was  a  much  Jess  frugal  style  of  life  at  Newby  than  at  Jedder- 
field. Although  the  homestead  consisted  of  only  a  cottage,  containing 
a  but  and  a  ben,  that  is,  a  kitchen  and  parlor,  with  the  usual  append- 
ages of  a  barn,  etc.,  it  gave  shelter  every  night  to  groups  of  the  va- 
grant people,  the  multitude  of  whom  was  a  matter  of  remark  and  lam- 
entation a  few  years  before  to  Fletcher,  of  Salton,  and  other  patriots. 
On  a  Saturday  night  there  would  be  as  many  as  twenty  of  these  poor 
creatures  received  by  the  farmer  for  food  and  lodging  till  Monday 
morning.  Some  of  them,  who  had  established  a  good  character,  were 
entertained  in  the  farmer's  Aa',  where  himself,  his  wife,  and  servants 
ordinarily  sat,  as  was  the  fashion  of  that  time.  -  The  family  rather 
relished  this  society,  for  from  hardly  any  other  source  did  they  ever 


THEIR     GRAND- MOTHER    AND     HER     FRIENDS.        549 

obtain  any  of  the  news  of  the  country.  One  well-remembered  guest 
of  this  order  was  a  robust  old  man  named  Andrew  Gemmells,  who  had 
been  a  dragoon  in  his  youth,  but  had  long  assumed  the  blue  gown  and 
badge  of  a  king's  bedesman,  or  licensed  beggar,  together  with  the  meal- 
pocks  and  long  staff.  A  rough  and  ready  tongue,  and  a  picturesque 
if  not  venerable  aspect,  had  recommended  Andrew  in  many  house- 
holds superior  to  my  grandfather's. 

"  Sir  Walter  Scott,  who  commemorates  him  under  the  name  of 
Edie  Ochiltree,  tells  how  a  laird  was  found  one  day  playing  at  draughts 
with  Gemmells,  the  only  mark  of  distinction  of  rank  presented  in  the 
case  being  that  the  laird  sat  in  his  parlor,  and  the  blue-gown  in  the 
court  outside,  the  board  being  placed  on  the  sill  of  the  open  window 
between.  I  can  corroborate  the  view  which  we  thus  acquire  of  the 
old  beggar's  position,  by  stating  that  the  guidwife  of  Newby  learned 
the  game  of  draughts — commonly  called  in  Scotland  the  dam-brod — 
from  Andrew  Gemmells,  and  often  played  with  him  at  her  hall  fire- 
side. Somewhat  to  his  disgust,  the  pupil  became  in  time  the  equal 
of  the  master,  and  a  visitor  one  day  backed  her  against  him  for  a 
guinea,  which  the  old  man  did  not  scruple  to  stake,  and  which  he 
could  easily  have  paid  if  unsuccessful,  as  he  carried  a  good  deal  of 
money  about  his  person.  When  it  appeared,  however,  that  she  was 
about  to  gain  the  game,  Andrew  lost  his  temper,  or  affected  to  do  so, 
and,  hastily  snatching  up  the  board,  threw  the  '  men  '  into  the  ash- 
pit. Andrew  circulated  all  through  the  counties  of  Peebles,  Selkirk, 
and  Roxburgh,  going  from  house  to  house,  and  getting  an  awmos 
(alms),  with  lodging  if  necessary,  at  each,  appreciated  as  an  original 
wherever  he  came — every-where  civilly  and  even  kindly  treated.  It 
must  have  been,  on  the  whole,  a  pleasant  life  for  the  old  man,  but 
one  that  could  only  be  so  while  the  primitive  simple  style  of  farm- 
life  subsisted,  that  is,  while  the  farmer,  his  wife,  and  children,  still 
herded  in  the  same  room  with  their  servants,  and  were  not  above 
holding  converse  with  the  remembered  beggar.  Perhaps  poor 
Andrew  found  at  last  that  things  were  taking  an  unfavorable  turn 
for  him,  for  he  died  in  an  outhouse  at  a  farm  in  the  parish  of  Rox- 
burgh, in  the  month  of  February  too  (1794). 

"  My  grandmother  was  wedded,  and  went  home  to  her  husband's 
house  at  Newby,  in  1768.  She  was  a  remarkably  good  looking,  portly 
woman,  bearing  a  considerable  resemblance  to  a  profile  portrait  of 
Madame  Roland,  the  famous  heroine  of  the  French  Revolution.  The 
'  leddies '  of  Haystoun,  sisters  and  daughters  of  the  landlord,  Dr.  Hay, 
felt  an  interest  in  the  pretty  young  wife,  and  put  themselves  on  famil- 
iar terms  with  her.  They  would  send  a  message  to  her  on  Saturday, 
asking  if  she  designed  to  go  to  church  at  Peebles  next  day,  and  if 
so,  making  an  appointment  with  her  to  join  their  party.  The  five  or 
six  '  leddies,'  and  the  young  guidwife  of  Newby,  might  have  been 
seen  next  morning  picking  their  steps  along  the  road  to  Peebles, 
each  wearing  her  pretty  checked  plaid  or  mantilla  over  her  head,  such 


550  ROBERT    AND     WILLIAM     CHAMBERS. 

being  the  old  Scottish  succedaneum  for  a  bonnet.  A  most  interest- 
ing group  it  must  have  been,  for  the  Hays  were  all  handsome  people, 
and  the  young  guidwife  was  reckoned  the  bonniest  woman  in  Peebles- 
shire  in  her  day.  A  lively  gossiping  conversation  was  kept  up.  The 
'  leddies  '  would  be  telling  their  young  rustic  friend  of  the  assemblies 
they  had  been  attending  in  Edinburgh,  where  Miss  Nicky  Murray 
(sister  of  the  Chief-justice  Earl  of  Mansfield)  was  in  the  height  of 
her  authority ;  the  guidwife  probably  telling  them  in  turn  of  the  re- 
sults of  the  lambing  season,  or  some  bit  of  country  news. 

"  In  the  second  year  of  my  grandmother's  married  life,  one  of 
her  Haystoun  friends,  the  daughter  of  Dr.  Hay,  was  married,  and 
taken  to  a  permanent  residence  in  Edinburgh,  by  Sir  Wm.  Forbes, 
the  banker,  a  man  who  enjoyed  as  much  of  the  public  esteem  in 
Scotland  as  any  man  living  during  his  time,  whose  memory  has  been 
embalmed  in  the  verse  of  Scott,  and  whose  autobiography  I  had  much 
pleasure  in  editing  a  few  years  ago,  through  the  impression  made 
upon  me  regarding  him  by  my  grandmother's  recollections.  Two 
unmarried  Misses  Hay,  who  survived  to  an  extreme  old  age,  always 
kept  up  their  intimacy  with  my  grandmother,  and  I  remember  '  Miss 
Ailie '  calling  upon  her  in  Edinburgh  about  1855.  Miss  Ailie  was 
understood  to  be  above  ninety  at  that  time,  but  she  never  seemed  to 
admit  or  acknowledge  the  progress  of  time,  and  time  really  seemed 
to  have  very  little  to  do  with  her.  A  question  about  somebody's 
age  arose,  and  I  recollect  the  old  lady  saying,  rather  snappishly,  and 
with  the  air  of  one  whose  words  admitted  of  no  reply :  '  As  to  age, 
it's  a  subject  that  was  never  mentioned  in  my  father's  family.'  Misses 
Ailie  and  Bettie  Hay  spent  their  latter  days  in  a  flat  in  West  Nicol- 
son  street,  Edinburgh,  and  only  once  during  a  great  number  of 
years  revisited  the  ancient  paternal  mansion  in  Peeblesshire.  I  was 
at  Newby  not  long  after,  and  heard  from  the  farmer  how  the  old 
ladies  came  and  wandered  about  the  place,  lingering  fondly  in  every 
romantic  nook  which  they  had  known  in  former  years,  and  declaring 
that  they  thought  they  could  have  recognized  the  place  by  the  smell 
of  the  flowers. 

"  I  feel  impelled  here  to  remark  the  pleasant  old-fashion  of  calling 
ladies  by  some  familiar  form  of  their  Christian  name.  The  world 
was  full  of  Miss  Betties,  Miss  Peggies,  and  Miss  Beenies,  long  ago ; 
nay,  the  daughters  of  dukes  and  earls  were  Lady  Madies,  Lady  Liz- 
zies, and  Lady  Kates.  There  was  something  very  endearing  in  the 
custom.  It  brought  high  and  low  together  on  the  common  ground 
of  family  fireside  life.  Your  Miss  Elizabeths  and  Lady  Catharines 
seem  a  people  in  a  different  sphere,  beyond  the  range  of  our  sym- 
pathies. I  have  heard  a  gentleman  say  that,  in  the  family  of  which 
he  was  one,  all  went  well  while  they  continued  to  call  each  other  by 
the  pet  names  of  their  nursery  days ;  and  that,  on  a  resolution  being 
formed  to  exchange  these  for  the  formal  Christian  names,  there  en- 
sued a  marked  diminution  of  their  mutual  affection,  and  they  never 


SHEPHERD     DOG     SAGACITY.  551 

afterwards  were  the  same  thing  to  each  other  that  they  had  been. 
This  fact  seems  to  me  one  well  worth  bearing  in  mind. 

"  My  grandmother  and  her  maids  were  generally  up  at  an  early 
hour  in  the  morning  to  attend  to  the  ewes,  and  their  time  for  going 
to  rest  must  have  consequently  been  an  early  one.  There  was  always, 
however,  a  period,  called  '  between  gloaming  and  supper-time,"  dur- 
ing which  another  industry  was  practiced.  Then  'it  was  that  the 
wheels  were  brought  out  for  the  spinning  of  the  yarn  which  was  to 
constitute  the  clothing  of  the  family.  And  I  often  think  that  it 
must  have  been  a  pleasing  sight  in  that  humble  hall — the  handsome 
young  mistress  amidst  her  troop  of  maidens,  all  busy  with  foot  and 
finger,  while  the  shepherds  and  their  master,  and  one  or  two  favored 
gaberlunzies,  would  be  telling  stories  or  cracking  jokes  for  the  gen- 
eral entertainment,  or  some  one  with  a  good  voice  would  be  singing 
the  songs  of  Ramsay  and  Hamilton.  At  a  certain  time  of  the  year, 
the  guidwife  had  to  lay  aside  the  ordinary  little  wheel,  by  which  lint 
was  spun,  and  take  to  the  'muckle  wheel,'  which  was  required  for"  the 
production  of  woolen  thread,  the  material  of  the  goodman's  clothes, 
or  else  the  'reel,'  on  which  she  reduced  the  product  of  the  little 
wheel  to  hanks  for  the  weaver.  Even  the  Misses  Hay  were  great  lint 
spinners,  and  I  suspect  that  their  familiar  acquaintance  with  the  guid- 
wife of  Newby  depended  somewhat  on  their  common  devotion  to 
the  wheel. 

"It  was  on  this  farm  of  Newby,  while  in  the  possession  of  Mr. 
Gibson,  in  the  year  1772,  that  there  occurred  a  case  of  the  sagacity 
of  the  shepherd's  dog,  which  has  often  been  adverted  to  in  books, 
but  seldom  with  correctness  ^as  to  the  details.  A  store-farmer,  in  an- 
other part  of  the  county,  had  commenced  a  system  of  sheep-stealing, 
which  he  was  believed  to  have  practiced  without  detection  for  several 
years.  At  length  a  ewe,  which  had  been  taken  among  other  sheep 
from  Newby,  reappeared  on  the  farm,  bearing  a  birn  (Anglice,  brand) 
on  her  face  in  addition  to  that  of  her  true  owner.  The  animal  was 
believed  to  have  been  attracted  to  her  former  home  by  the  instinct 
of  affection  towards  the  lamb  from  whom  she  had  been  separated, 
and  her  return  was  the  more  remarkable  as  it  involved  the  necessity 
of  her  crossing  the  river  Tweed.  The  shepherd,  James  Hislop,  did 
not  fail  to  report  the  reappearance  of  the  ewe  to  his  master,  and  it 
was  not  long  before  they  ascertained  whose  brand  it  was  which  had 
been  impressed  over  Mr.  Gibson's.  As  many  sheep  had  been  for  some 
time  missed  out  of  the  stock,  it  was  thought  proper  that  Hislop 
should  pay  a  visit  to  Mr.  Murdison's  farm,  where  he  quickly  discov- 
ered a  considerable  number  of  sheep  bearing  Mr.  Gibson's  brand  O, 
all  having  Mr.  Murdison's,  the  letter  T,  superimposed.  In  short, 
Murdison  and  his  shepherd  Miller  were  apprehended,  tried,  convicted, 
and  duly  hanged  in  the  grassmarket — a  startling  exhibition,  consid- 
ering the  position  of  the  sufferers  in  life,  and  made  the  more  so  by 
the  humbler  man  choosing  to  come  upon  the  scaffold  in  his  '  dead- 


552  ROBERT    AND     WILLIAM    CHAMBERS. 

clothes.'  The  long-continued  success  of  the  crime  of  these  wretched 
men  was  found  to  have  depended  on  the  wonderful  human-like  sense 
of  Miller's  dog  'Yarrow.'  Accompanied  by  'Yarrow,'  the  man  would 
take  an  opportunity  of  visiting  a  neighboring  farm  and  looking 
through  the  flocks.  He  had  there  only  to  point  out  certain  sheep 
to  his  sagacious  companion,  who  would  come  that  night,  select  each 
animal  so  pointed  out,  bring  them  together,  and  drive  them  across  the 
country,  and,  moreover,  across  the  Tweed,  to  his  master's  farm,  never 
once  undergoing  detection.  The  story  ran  that  the  dog  was  hanged 
soon  after  his  master,  as  being  thought  a  dangerous  creature  in  a 
country  full  of  flocks ;  but  I  would  hope  that  this  was  a  false  rumor, 
and  my  grandmother,  who  might  have  known  all  the  circumstances 
connected  with  the  case,  never  affirmed  its  truth." 

About  1780,  Mr.  Gibson  retired  with  a  moderate  competency  to 
Peebles,  where  he  concluded  his  days.  Here  were  born  to  him  a 
girl  and  boy,  who  at  his  death  were  left  in  charge  of  their  mother 
and  several  appointed  guardians.  Unfortunately,  as  regards  these 
children,  their  mother  made  a  second  marriage  with  a  teacher,  Mr. 
Robert  Noble,  and  in  the  short  space  of  two  or  three  years  she  was 
again  left  a  widow,  with  an  addition  of  two  boys,  Robert  and  David, 
without  any  provision  whatever  from  this  new  connection.  To  the 
two  young  Gibsons,  Jean  and  her  brother  William,  this  affair  led  to 
much  domestic  unhappiness,  along  with  a  desire  to  escape  from  it  in 
the  best  way  possible.  Jean  grew  up  an  uncommonly  beautiful  girl, 
and  being  in  some  small  degree  an  heiress,  had  a  number  of  admirers, 
one  of  them  being  my  father,  to  whom  she  was  married ;  and  the 
young  pair  began  housekeeping  in  the  neat  mansion  already  de- 
scribed. 

This  marriage  took  place  in  May,  1799.  I  was  born  in  less  than  a 
year  afterwards,  and,  as  has  been  said,  Robert  was  born  in  1802.  My 
furthest  stretch  of  memory  pictures  my  mother  as  a  gentle,  lady  like 
person,  slender  in  frame,  punctiliously  tasteful  in  dress,  and  beautiful 
in  features,  but  with  an  expression  of  blended  pensiveness  and  cheer- 
fulness indicative  of  the  position  into  which  she  had  been  brought. 
Even  as  a  child  I  could  see  she  had  sorrows — perhaps  regrets.  It 
might  have  been  safe  to  say  that  her  union  had  been  "  ill-fated." 

It  is  not,  however,  to  be  assumed  from  this  circumstance  that  my 
father  was  undeserving  of  regard.  He  possessed  numerous  estimable 
qualities,  but,  in  association  with  these,  a  pliancy  of  disposition  which, 
according  to  the  language  of  the  world,  renders  a  man  "  his  own  worst 
enemy."  In  my  experience  in  private  life,  I  have  never  known  any 
one  more  keenly  conscientious  in  matters  concerning  others,  and  less 
so  in  things  concerning  himself.  Accurate,  upright,  aspiring  in  his 
tastes  and  notions,  with  a  fund  of  humor,  and  an  immense  love  for 
music,  he  may  be  said  to  have  taken  a  lead  in  the  town  for  his  gen- 
eral knowledge.  He  made  some  progress  in  scientific  attainments. 


THEIR    MOTHER    AND     FATHER.  553 

Affected,  like  others  at  the  time,  with  the  fascinating  works  of  James 
Ferguson  on  astronomy,  he  had  a  kind  of  range  for  that  branch  of 
study,  which  he  pursued,  by  means  of  a  tolerably  good  telescope,  in 
company  with  Mungo  Park,  the  African  traveler,  who  had  settled  as 
a  surgeon  in  Peebles,  and  one  or  two  other  acquaintances. 

He  often  lamented  that  his  parents  had  not  followed  out  a  design 
of  bestowing  on  him  a  liberal  education.  Supposing  him  to  have 
been  under  some  delusion  in  this  respect,  it  could,  I  think,  have  been 
nothing  but  a  sincere  love  of  literature  that  induced  him  to  acquire 
a  copy  of  the  "  Encyclopaedia  Britannica,"  at  a  time  when  works  of 
this  expensive  nature  were  purchased  only  by  the  learned  and  affluent. 
The  possession  of  this  voluminous  mass  of  knowledge  in  no  small 
degree  helped  to  create  a  taste  for  reading  in  my  own,  and  more 
particularly  my  brother's  mind;  at  all  events  a  familiarity  with  the 
volumes  of  this  great  work  is  among  the  oldest  of  my  recollections. 
Nor  can  I  omit  to  mention  other  agreeable  reminiscences  of  these 
early  days.  My  father,  as  an  amateur,  was  an  excellent  and  untiring 
performer  on  the  German  flute,  an  instrument  which  shared  his  affec- 
tions with  his  telescope.  Seated  at  the  open  window  of  his  Jit  tie 
parlor  in  calm  summer  gloamings,  he  would  play  an  endless  series  of 
Scottish  airs,  which  might  be  heard  along  the  Eddleston  Water;  then, 
as  the  clear,  silvery  moon  and  planets  arose  to  illumine  the  growing 
darkness,  out  would  be  brought  his  telescope,  which  being  planted 
carefully  on  its  stand  on  my  mother's  tea-table,  there  ensued  a  critical 
inspection  of  the  firmament  and  its  starry  host.  From  circumstances 
of  this  kind,  discussions  about  the  satellites  of  Jupiter  and  the  belts 
of  Saturn  are  embedded  in  reminiscences  of  my  early  years. 

Once  or  twice  a  year  my  father  had  occasion  to  go  to  Glasgow  in 
connection  with  business  arrangements.  The  journey,  upwards  of 
forty  miles,  was  performed  on  foot,  in  company  with  Jamie  Hall,  a 
stocking  manufacturer,  who  was  an  oddity.  They  were  usually  two 
days  on  the  road.  Hall  made  a  point  of  paying  his  way  in  pairs  of 
stockings,  of  which  he  carried  a  choice  stock  on  his  back,  calculated 
to  settle  all  the  reckonings  till  he  arrived  at  the  Spoutmouth  in  the 
Gallowgate.  In  one  of  these  visits  to  Glasgow,  my  father,  through 
his  love  of  music,  purchased  a  spinet,  which,  arriving  on  the  top  of 
the  carrier's  cart,  created  some  perturbation  in  the  household.  It 
was  a  heedless  acquisition,  for  there  was  no  place  to  put  it  except  in 
the  garret,  among  heaps  of  warps  and  bundles  of  weft.  There,  ac- 
cordingly, where  there  was  barely  standing-room,  the  unfortunate 
spinet  was  deposited,  and  became  an  object  of  musical  indulgence, 
sometimes  for  hours,  in  which  enjoyment  all  sublunary  cares  were 
forgot. 

With  these  tastes  and  accomplishments,  it  was,  as  just  stated,  my 
father's  misfortune  to  have  a  remarkable  facility  of  disposition.  With 
a  power  of  penetrating  character,  and  a  correct  knowledge  of  physiog- 
nomy, he  was  disqualified  to  battle  with  the  realities  of  life  through 


554  ROBERT     AND     WILLIAM     CHAMBERS. 

his  guilelessness  and  goodness  of  heart.  Notwithstanding  all  his 
boasted  shrewdness,  he  was  constantly  exposed  to  imposition,  being 
cheated,  as  it  were,  with  his  eyes  open.  Desirous  to  please,  he  could 
not  resist  importunities  to  lend  money  or  give  credit,  though  con- 
scious that  by  doing  so  he  would  almost  inevitably  incur  a  loss.  Yet, 
with  this  pliancy,  he  could  fire  up  on  occasions,  particularly  when 
his  word  was  doubted,  or  his  principles  attacked.  Careless  of  con- 
sequences, he  avowed  his  hatred  of  political  subserviency  at  a  time 
when  independent  principle,  as  far  as  Scotland  was  concerned,  was 
very  nearly  trampled  out  of  existence.  Henry  Cockburn,  in  his 
"  Memorials,"  speaks  of  the  deplorable  state  of  things  in  Edinburgh. 
In  country  towns,  matters  were  fully  worse.  My  father's  views  of 
public  policy  were  not  calculated  to  make  friends  in  an  age  of  politi- 
cal sycophancy.  In  1807,  on  the  occasion  of  a  contested  election 
for  a  member  of  parliament  for  the  group  of  burghs  of  which  Peebles 
was  a  member,  he  was  threatened  with  oppressive  measures  for  simply 
refusing  to  advise  his  brother  to  vote  in  a  particular  manner. 

The  circumstances  of  the  case  were  these  :  My  uncle,  as  a  member 
of  the  town -council,  having  at  the  election  stuck  to  the  liberal  side 
along  with  nine  other  members, — constituting,  as  they  were  called, 
the  steady  ten, — my  father  was  earnestly  solicited  to  remonstrate  with 
his  brother,  and,  if  possible,  induce  him  to  vote  for  the  opposite 
party.  Money  had  been  tendered,  a  place  had  been  offered,  but  all 
would  not  do.  Every  overture  was  rejected.  To  employ  a  new  kind 

of  persuasive,  my  father  was  visited  by  Mr.  C ,  of  K — — ,  a  land 

proprietor  in  the  neighborhood,  who  spoke  rather  freely.  My  father 
was  unyielding,  would  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  affair ;  besides, 
he  thought  his  brother  was  in  the  right.  "Well,  then,"  concluded 
his  visitor,  "  if  you  are  resolved  on  being  obstinate,  we  know  what 
to  do.  I  think  I  possess  some  influence  among  the  manufacturers  of 
Glasgow  with  whom  you  are  connected,  and  will  get  them  to  remove 
their  commissions ;  in  short,  either  help  us,  or  lay  your  account  with 
being  ruined."  This,  of  course,  was  too  much  for  my  father's  equa- 
nimity. Bursting  with  rage,  he  ordered  the  political  emissary  out 
of  the  house,  telling  him  at  the  same  time,  that  he  alike  despised 
and  defied  him.  The  menace  had  been  idly  made ;  at  least,  it  came 
to  nothing.  I  have  just  a  bare  recollection  of  this  strange  scene, 
which  was  called  to  mind  some  years  ago,  when  I  saw  my  father's 
old  oppressor  walking  about  Edinburgh,  a  decayed  gentleman,  in 
somewhat  melancholy  mood,  having,  from  reverses  of  fortune,  been 
obliged  to  sell  his  estate  and  retire  into  obscurity.  He  was  undoubt- 
edly a  man  of  amiable  character,  who,  from  a  too  eager  spirit  of 
partisanship,  had  been  led  to  commit  a  mean  and  disreputable  act, 
as  his  threatened  attempt  to  crush  my  father  must  be  considered  to 
have  been.  Such  is  now  the  improved  tone  of  society  and  manners, 
that,  in  mentioning  the  above  incident,  one  feels  as  if  digging  fossils 
from  the  submerged  strata  of  an  antediluvian  world. 


THEIR    PARENTS;    SCHOOLS,    ETC.  555 

His  musical  accomplishments  rendered  my  father's  society  peculiarly 
attractive.  He  had  a  good  voice,  and  sung  the  Scottish  songs  with 
considerable  effect ;  consequently  he  was  much  in  request  at  con- 
vivialities, to  which,  from  a  fondness  for  lively  conversation,  he  had 
no  particular  objection.  There,  indeed,  lay  my  father's  weakness, — 
too  slight  a  regard  for  personal  responsibilities.  His  indifference  in 
this  respect  could  not  fail  to  throw  additional  obligations  on  my 
mother,  whose  destiny  it  was  to  confront  and  overcome  innumerable 
embarrassments.  Acquainted  with  only  the  elementary  branches  of 
education,  and  unskilled  in  any  fashionable  accomplishments,  she 
nevertheless  possessed  a  strong  understanding.  I  might  truly  say 
that,  both  in  appearance  and  manners,  she  was  by  nature  a  lady, 
and  circumstances  made  her  a  heroine.  Delicate  in  frame,  and  with 
generally  poor  health,  she  was  ill-adapted  for  the  fatigues  and  anxie- 
ties which  she  had  to  encounter ;  but  such  was  her  tact  and  dexterity, 
as  well  as  her  determined  resolution,  that  she  bore  and  overcame 
trials  which  I  feel  assured  would  have  sunk  many  in  like  circumstances 
to  the  depths  of  despair.  "What  she  did  may  afterwards  appear. 
Meanwhile,  a  number  of  young  children  demanded  her  care. 

Robert  and  I  had  a  strange  congenital  malformation.  We  were 
sent  into  the  world  with  six  fingers  on  each  hand,  and  six  toes  on 
each  foot.  By  the  neighbors,  as  I  understand,  this  was  thought 
particularly  lucky ;  but  it  proved  any  thing  but  lucky  for  one  of  us. 
In  my  own  case,  the  redundant  members  were  easily  removed,  leaving 
scarcely  a  trace  of  their  presence  ;  but  in  the  case  of  Robert,  the  re- 
sult was  very  different.  The  supernumerary  toes  on  the  outside  of 
the  foot  were  attached  to,  or  formed  part  of,  the  metatarsal  bones, 
and  were  so  badly  amputated  as  to  leave  delicate  protuberances,  cal- 
culated to  be  a  torment  for  life.  This  unfortunate  circumstance,  by 
producing  a  certain  degree  of  lameness  and  difficulty  in  walking,  no 
doubt  exerted  a  permanent  influence  over  my  brother's  habits  and 
feelings.  Indisposed  to  indulge  in  the  boisterous  exercise  of  other 
boys, — studious,  docile  in  temperament,  and  excelling  in  mental 
qualifications, — he  shot  ahead  of  me  in  all  matters  of  education. 
Though  dissimilar  in  various  ways,  we,  however,  associated  together 
from  our  earliest  years.  It  almost  seemed  as  if  a  difference  of  tastes 
and  aptitudes  produced  a  degree  of  mutual  reliance  and  co-operation. 
With  a  more  practical  and  exigent  tone  of  mind  than  Robert,  I 
might  possibly  have  made  a  decent  progress  at  school,  had  my 
teachers  at  all  sympathized  with  me.  As  it  happened,  I  look  back 
upon  my  school  experiences  with  any  thing  but  satisfaction.  A  very 
few  particulars  will  suffice. 

My  first  school  was  one  kept  by  a  poor  old  widow,  Kirsty  Cranston, 
who,  according  to  her  own  account,  was  qualified  to  carry  forward 
her  pupils  as  far  as  reading  the  Bible ;  but  to  this  proficiency  there 
was  the  reasonable  exception  of  leaving  out  difficult  words,  such  as 
Maher-shalal-hash-baz.  These,  she  told  the  children,  might  be  made 


556  ROBERT    AND     WILLIAM     CHAMBERS. 

"a  pass-over,"  and  accordingly,  it  was  the  rule  of  the  establishment 
to  let  them  alone.  From  this  humble  seminary  I  was  in  time  trans- 
ferred to  the  burgh  school,  then  under  the  charge  of  Mr.  James  Gray, 
author  of  a  popular  treatise  on  arithmetic.  The  fee,  here,  was  two 
shillings  and  twopence  per  quarter  for  reading  and  writing,  and  six- 
pence additional  for  arithmetic.  The  pupils  were  the  children  of 
nearly  all  classes  Jn  the  town  and  rural  districts  around.  They 
numbered  about  zr  hundred  and  fifty  boys  and  girls.  Probably  a 
third  of  them  in  summer  were  barefooted,  but  this  was  less  a  neces- 
sity than  a  choice ;  at  any  rate,  it  well  suited  the  locality.  In  front 
of  the  school-house  lay  the  town  green,  and  beside  it  was  the  Tweed, 
in  which  the  school-boys  were  constantly  paddling. 

Gray  was  a  man  of  mild  temperament,  and  a  good  teacher,  but 
his  pupils  entertained  little  respect  for  his  abilities.  Yielding,  like 
too  many  others  at  the  time,  to  over-indulgence,  he  sometimes  went 
off  on  a  carouse,  and  entered  the  school  considerably  inebriated, 
which  was  deemed  vastly  amusing.  Nor  did  this  sort  of  conduct 
incur  any  public  censure.  The  magistrates  and  council,  whose  duty 
it  was  to  call  him  to  account,  were  associates  in  his  revels,  and  ap- 
preciated him  as  a  boon-companion.  When  elevated  to  a  certain 
pitch,  he  sung  a  good  song  about  Nelson  and  his  brave  British  tars ; 
and  this  in  itself,  in  the  heat  of  the  French  War,  extenuated  many 
shortcomings.  At  this  school,  too,  as  is  usual  with  such  seminaries 
in  Scotland,  the  Bible  was  read  as  a  class-book,  but  with  no  kind  of 
reverence,  or  even  decorum.  The  verses  were  bawled  out  at  the 
pitch  of  the  voice,  without  the  slightest  regard  to  intonation  or  elo- 
cutionary effect.  When  the  teacher  was  temporarily  absent,  there 
took  place  a  battle  of  the  books — one  side  of  the  school  against  the 
other.  On  such  occasions  the  girls,  not  choosing  to  be  belligerents, 
discreetly  retired  under  the  tables,  leaving  the  boys  to  carry  on  the 
war,  in  which  dog-eared  Bibles  without  boards,  resembling  bunches 
of  leaves,  handily  flew  about  as  missiles.  To  have  to  look  back  on 
this  as  a  place  of  youthful  instruction ! 

There  was  another  stage  in  my  educational  career.  I  was  advanced 
to  the  grammar-school,  as  it  is  called,  a  superior  burgh  establishment, 
of  which  Mr.  James  Sloan  was  head-master.  Here  I  was  introduced 
to  Latin,  for  which  the  fee  was  five  shillings  a  quarter.  My  progress 
was  very  indifferent.  Of  course  it  was  very  stupid  of  me  not  intui- 
tively appreciating  this  branch  of  learning,  and  likewise  in  feeling 
that  its  acquisition  was  a  cheerless  drudgery.  Like  others,  perhaps, 
in  like  circumstances,  I  have  lived  to  regret  my  inattention,  or  call 
it  incapacity;  for  even  the  small  knowledge  of  Latin  which  I  did 
acquire  during  two  years  of  painful  study,  has  not  failed  to  be  of 
considerable  service  in  various  respects. 

Mr.  Sloan  was  held  in  general  esteem,  and  justly  reputed  as  an 
excellent  teacher.  He  grounded  well,  and  apt  scholars  got  on  fa- 
mously with  him.  My  brother,  who,  like  myself  was  advanced  from 


FLOGGING    IN    SCHOOL,     BRUTALITY    OUT.  557 

the  burgh  to  the  grammar-school,  became  a  proficient  and  favorite 
pupil ;  his  mind,  as  it  were,  taking  naturally  to  his  instruction  in  the 
classics.  The  healthy  locality  of  the  school  was  much  in  its  favor, 
and  attracted  boarders  from  Edinburgh,  the  colonies,  and  elsewhere. 
The  association  of  town  scholars  with  boys  from  a  distance  was  a 
pleasing  feature  in  the  establishment,  and  proved  mutually  advan- 
tageous. I  could  have  nothing  to  say  derogatory  of  the  method  of 
culture  but  for  the  severity  of  discipline  which  was  heedlessly  pur- 
sued, according  to  what,  unfortunately,  was  too  common  at  the  pe- 
riod. 

The  truth  is,  violence  held  rule  almost  every-where;  the  desperate 
warlike  struggle  in  which  the  country  was  engaged,  apparently  post- 
poning all  pacific  and  humane  notions.  Boys — the  boy-nature  being 
neither  studied  nor  understood — were  flogged  and  buffeted  unmerci- 
fully, both  at  home  and  at  school;  and  they  in  turn  beat  and  dom- 
ineered over  each  other  according  to  their  capacity,  harried  birds' 
nests,  pelted  cats,  and  exercised  every  other  species  of  cruelty  within 
their  power.  A  coarse,  bustling  carter  in  Peebles,  known  by  the 
facetious  nickname  of  "  Puddle  Mighty,"  used  to  leave  his  old,  worn- 
out  and  much  abused  horses  to  die  on  the  public  green,  and  there, 
without  incurring  reprobation,  the  boys  amused  themselves  by,  day 
after  day,  battering  the  poor  prostrate  animals  with  showers  of  stones 
till  life  was  extinct.  In  the  business  of  elementary  instruction,  the 
law  of  kindness  was  as  yet  scarcely  thought  of.  Orders  were  some- 
times given  to  teachers  not  by  any  means  to  spare  the  rod.  "I've 
brought  you  our  Jock;  mind  ye,  lick  him  weel!  "  would  a  mother  of 
Spartan  temperament  say  to  Mr.  Gray,  at  the  same  time  dragging  for- 
ward a  struggling  young  savage  to  be  entered  as  a  pupil ;  and  so  Jock 
was  formally  resigned  to  the  dominion  of  the  tawse. 

I  can  never  forget  a  scene  which  took  place  in  Mr.  Sloan's  semi- 
nary one  summer  afternoon.  In  the  morning  of  that  day  a  sensation 
had  been  created  by  the  intelligence  that  two  of  the  boarders,  gen- 
tlemen's sons  from  Edinburgh,  had  absconded,  and  that  two  town- 
constables — one  of  them  Drummer  Will — had  been  dispatched  in 
search  of  them.  The  youths  were  caught,  brought  back  in  disgrace, 
and  were  now  to  suffer  a  punishment  suitable  to  the  gravity  of  the 
offense.  Sullen  and  terrified,  the  two  culprits  stood  before  the  assem- 
bled school ;  the  two  town-officers  in  their  scarlet  coats  sitting  as  a 
guard  within  the  doorway.  The  usual  hum  ceased.  There  was  a 
death-like  stillness.  First  reproaching  the  offenders  with  their  highly 
improper  conduct,  the  teacher  ordered  them  instantly  to  strip  for 
flogging.  The  boys  resisted,  and  were  seized  by  an  assistant  and  the 
two  officers.  With  clothes  in  disorder,  they  were  laid  across  a  long, 
desk-like  table,  the  rise  of  which  in  the  middle  offered  that  degree  of 
convexity  which  was  favorable  to  the  application  of  the  tawse.  Kick- 
ing and  screaming,  they  suffered  the  humiliating  infliction,  and  the 
school  was  forthwith  dismissed  for  the  day.  •  Such  things  at  the 


558  ROBERT    AND     WILLIAM     CHAMBERS. 

period  were  matters  of  course,  even  of  approbation,  and  therefore  it 
would  be  wrong  to  condemn  teachers  who  fell  in  with  the  general 
fashion.  Teaching,  it  was  imagined,  could  not  be  conducted  other- 
wise; school,  like  army  flogging,  was  an  authorized  national  insti- 
tution. 

,  Laying  aside  any  consideration  of  the  elementary  branches  and  the 
classics,  the  amount  of  instruction  at  these  schools  was  exceedingly 
slender.  At  not  one  of  them  was  there  taught  any  history,  geogra- 
phy, or  physical  science.  There  was  not  in  my  time  a  map  in  any 
of  the  schools,  in  which  respect  the  place  had  fallen  off;  for  at  the 
sale  of  the  effects  of  Mr.  Oman,  a  previous  teacher,  my  father  bought 
a  pair  of  old  globes,  and  it  was  chiefly  from  these  that  my  brother 
and  I  obtained  a  competent  knowledge  of  the  terrestrial  and  celes- 
tial spheres.  Possibly  I  have  said  more  than  enough  of  my  school 
remembrances;  and  I  finish  with  stating  that  my  entire  education, 
which  terminated  when  I  was  thirteen  years  of  age,  cost,  books  in- 
cluded, somewhere  about  six  pounds.  So  little  was  taught  in  the  way 
of  general  knowledge,  that  my  education,  properly  speaking,  began 
only  when  I  was  left  to  pick  it  up  as  opportunities  offered  in  after 
life. 

There  are  a  few  circumstances  of  a  pleasing  nature  mixed  up  with 
these  dismal  recollections.  I  refer  to  rural  rambles  and  books.  I 
spent  many  hours  on  the  picturesque  banks  of  the  Tweed,  and  in 
angling  excursions  to  Manor  Water.  Half-holiday  visits  to  Neidpath 
Castle,  a  deserted  residence  of  the  Dukes  of  Queensberry,  were  a 
frequent  amusement.  The  castle  was  appropriated  as  a  depot  for  the 
clothing  and  accoutrements  of  the  local  militia,  placed  under  charge 
of  a  worthy  old  soldier,  Sergeant  Veitch ;  and  through  my  acquaint- 
ance with  one  of  his  sons,  I  had  the  entree  to  the  fortalice.  The 
sergeant  was  generally  looked  up  to.  In  virtue  of  his  military  knowl- 
edge, he  was  appointed  drill-master  to  the  awkward  squad,  and  for 
the  same  reason  was  intrusted  with  the  custody  of  the  local  militia 
arms.  Bred  a  weaver,  he  worked  at  a  loom  which  was  placed  in  a 
deep  window  recess,  in  what  was  usually  styled  the  Duke's  Drawing- 
room.  At  times,  he  condescended  to  speak  to  me,  and  to  mention 
incidents  in  his  career,  while  a  sergeant  in  a  foot  regiment,  at  Bunker 
Hill  and  other  places  of  note  during  the  great  American  war,  all 
of  which  contributed  to  my  small  stock  of  knowledge. 

Two  annual  fairs,  with  their  concourse  of  traveling  merchants, 
shows,  gingergread,  and  wheel  of  fortune  men,  made  a  pleasing 
break  in  the  monotony  of  the  place.  For  many  years  these  fairs  were 
frequented  by  a  personage  known  as  "Beni  Minori,"  who  carried 
about  a  singularly  attractive  raree  show.  The  real  name  of  this  hum- 
ble showman  was  Robert  Brown  ;  that  of  Beni  Minori  having  been 
assumed  for  professional  reasons.  Brown  was  born  in  London  in 
1737,  and  reared  under  the  charge  of  his  grandparents  near  Carlisle, 
where  he  remembered  the  passing  of  Prince  Charles  Stuart  on  his 


AMUSING     AND     PECULIAR     PERIPATETICS.  559 

way  into  and  out  of  England,  the  subsequent  surrender  of  the  High- 
land garrison  to  the  Duke  of  Cumberland,  and  the  still  later  and  more 
agitating  sight  of  the  bloody  heads  over  the  gates  of  the  city.  The 
early  years  of  Brown's  life  were  spent  as  a  post-boy.  He  then  went 
to  sea  in  1759,  was  captured  by  the  French,  and  remained  a  pris- 
oner till  the  end  of  the  "Seven  Years'  War."  Next  he  went  to  the 
West  Indies,  and  had  a  perfect  recollection  of  the  famous  victory 
achieved  by  Rodney,  April  12,  1782.  Eeturning  to  England,  he 
purchased  the  show-box  of  an  old  and  dying  Italian,  named  Beni 
Minori,  and  assuming  his  name,  he  was,  from  some  resemblance  to 
the  deceased,  universally  recognized  as  the  same  personage.  Now 
began  the  wanderings  of  Beni,  otherwise  Brown,  through  the  north 
of  England  and  southern  counties  of  Scotland,  every-where  carrying 
his  show-box  on  his  back,  and  resorting  to  all  the  fairs  within  his 
rounds.  Our  first  interview  with  Beni  was  in  Peebles  about  1805, 
and  the  last  time  we  saw  him  was  in  1839,  in  the  Edinburgh  Charity 
Work-house,  where  this  aged  and  industrious  man  had  at  length  found 
a  sheltering  roof  under  which  to  die.  Here  were  learned  the  leading 
particulars  of  Beni's  variegated  life.  He  mentioned  that  his  mother 
had  been  dead  a  hundred  and  two  years ;  for,  in  giving  him  birth, 
she  survived  only  a  quarter  of  an  hour.  He  had  long  ceased  to  have 
a  single  relation  in  the  world.  Twelve  years  ago  he  had  lost  his 
wife,  to  whom  he  had  been  united  sixty-four  years.  There  was  no 
living  being  to  whom  he  could  look  with  the  eyes  of  affection.  The 
only  thing  he  cared  for  was  his  show-box,  which  he  daily  cleaned 
and  arranged;  every  picture,  ring,  and  cord  being  to  him  like  the 
face  of  an  old  friend.  Though  thus  cast  a  living  wreck  on  the  shores 
of  time,  Beni  always  retained  the  liveliness  which  had  procured  for 
him  the  attachment  of  the  boys  of  Peebles.  His  appearance  was 
still  that  of  a  weather-beaten  foreigner.  He  wore  ear-rings,  chewed 
tobacco,  and  joked  till  the  last.  With  some  little  assuagement  of  his 
condition,  provided  by  the  kindness  of  a  few  acquaintances,  Beni 
survived  till  June,  1840,  when  he  died  at  the  age  of  103  years. 

Among  the  musical  geniuses,  vocal  and  instrumental,  who  enliv- 
ened, or  perhaps  troubled  the  fairs,  there  was  a  venerable  violinist, 
John  Jameson  byname,  a  kind  of  type  of  "  Wandering  Willie." 
Aged  and  blind,  John  wandered  through  the  county,  playing  at  kirns, 
penny-weddings,  and  fairs ;  all  his  journeys  being  on  foot,  and  per- 
formed with  the  assistance  of  two  faithful  companions,  his  wife,  Jenny, 
and  an  old  white  horse,  probably  worth  ten  shillings.  The  manner 
in  which  this  humble  trio  went  about  from  place  to  place,  generally 
getting  lodgings  at  farm-steadings  for  nothing,  or  at  most  for  a  tune 
on  the  violin,  was  so  remarkable  as  to  deserve  commemoration.  First 
came  the  wife,  limping  with  one  hand  pressed  on  that  unfortunately 
rheumatic  side,  the  other  leading  the  old  horse  by  a  halter.  Second, 
the  horse,  which  never  seemed  very  willing  to  get  along,  and  needed 
to  be  pulled  with  all  the  vigor  which  Jenny's  spare  hand  could 


560  ROBERT     AND     WILLIAM     CHAMBERS. 

impart.  Across  its  back,  pannier  fashion,  hung  on  one  side  John's 
weather-worn  fiddle-case,  while  on  the  other  was  a  bag  of  apples,  an 
article  in  which  the  wife  dealt  in  a  small  way.  Last  of  all  came 
John,  led  by  the  tail  of  the  reluctant  quadruped ;  so  that  the  whole 
cavalcade  moved  in  a  piece — Jenny  pulling  at  the  horse,  and  the 
horse  pulling  at  John ;  and  in  this  way  the  party  managed  to  make 
out  their  journeys  through  Peebleshire. 

Though  not  disposed  to  be  so  sedentary  as  my  brother,  I  had 
scarcely  a  less  ardent  attachment  to  books.  These,  however,  I  pos- 
sessed no  means  of  purchasing.  To  procure  the  objects  of  my  de- 
sire, I  executed  with  a  knife  various  little  toys,  which  I  exchanged 
for  Juvenile  books  with  my  better  provided  companions.  The  room 
occupied  by  my  brother  and  myself  was  more  like  a  workshop  than 
a  sleeping  apartment,  on  account  of  the  disorder  which  was  caused 
by  these  mechanical  operations. 

Let  us  again  return  to  Robert's  account  of  these  early  school- 
days: 

"My  first  two  years  of  schooling  were  spent  amidst  the  crowd  of 
children  attending  Mr.  Gray's  seminary.  On  the  easy  terms  of  two 
shillings  and  twopence  per  quarter  I  was  well  grounded  by  the  mas- 
ter and  his  helper  in  English.  The  entire  expense  must  have  been 
only  about  eighteen  shillings,  a  fact  sufficient  to  explain  how  Scotch 
people  of  the  middle  class  appear  to  be  so  well  educated  in  compari- 
son with  their  southern  compatriots.  It  was  prior  to  the  time  when 
the  intellectual  system  was  introduced.  We  were  taught  to  read  the 
Bible  and  Barrie's  'Collection,'  and  to  spell  words.  No  attempt  was 
made  to  enlighten  us  as  to  the  meaning  of  any  of  the  lessons.  The 
most  distressing  part  of  our  school  exercises  consisted  in  learning 
by  heart  the  Catechism  of  the  Westminster  Assembly  of  Divines,  a 
document  which  it  was  impossible  for  any  person  under  maturity  to 
understand,  or  to  view  in  any  other  light  than  as  a  torture.  It  was 
a  strange,  rough,  noisy,  crowded  scene,  this  burgh  school.  No  refine- 
ment of  any  kind  appeared  in  it.  Nothing  kept  the  boys  in  any  sort 
of  order  but  flagellation  with  the  tawse.  Many  people  thought  the 
master  did  not  punish  enough.  This  idea,  in  fact,  was  the  cause  of 
an  act  of  wild  justice,  which  I  saw  executed  one  day  in  the  school. 

"The  reader  must  imagine  the  school-hum  going  on  in  a  dull 
monotone,  when  suddenly  the  door  burst  open,  and  in  walked  a  mid- 
dle-aged woman  of  the  humbler  class,  carrying  something  in  her  right 
hand  under  her  apron.  The  school  sunk  into  silence  in  an  instant. 
With  flashing  eyes  and  excited  vision,  she  called  out,  '  Where  is  Jock 
Forsyth.'  Jock  had  maltreated  a  son  of  hers  on  the  green,  and  she 
had  come  to  inflict  vengeance  upon  him  before  the  whole  school. 
Jock's  conscious  soul  trembled  at  the  sight,  and  she  had  no  difficulty 
in  detecting  him.  Ere  the  master  had  recovered  his  astonishment 
which  her  intrusion  had  created,  the  fell  virago  had  pounced  upon 
the  culprit,  had  dragged  him  into  the  middle  of  the  floor,  and  there 


ELDER,  THE  PEEBLES*   BOOKSELLER.       561 

began  to  belabor  him  with  the  domestic  tawse,  which  she  had  brought 
for  the  purpose.  The  screams  of  the  boy,  the  anxious  entreaties  of 
the  master,  with  his  constant  '  Wifie,  wifie,  be  quiet,  be  quiet,'  and  the 
agitated  feeling  which  began  to  pervade  the  school,  formed  a  scene 
which  defies  words  to  paint  it.  Nor  did  Meg  desist  till  she  had  given 
Master  Forsyth  reason  to  remember  her  to  the  latest  day  of  his  ex- 
istence. She  then  took  her  departure,  only  remarking  to  Mr.  Gray, 
as  she  prepared  to  close  the  door,  '  Jock  Forsyth  will  no'  meddle 
with  my  Jamie  again  in  a  hurry." 

"  Boys  for  whom  a  superior  education  was  desired  were  usually 
passed  on  at  the  beginning  of  their  third  year  to  the  grammar- 
school,  the  school  in  which  the  classics  were  taught,  but  which  also 
had  one  or  two  advanced  classes  for  English  and  writing.  This  was 
an  example  of  an  institution  which  has  affected  the  fortunes  of  Scots- 
men not  much  less  than  the  parish  schools.  Every  burgh  has  one, 
partly  supported  out  of  public  funds.  For  a  small  fee  (in  the  Peebles 
grammar-school  it  was  only  five  shillings  a  quarter),  a  youth  of  the 
middle  classes  gets  a  good  grounding  in  Latin  and  Greek,  fitting  him 
for  the  university;  and  it  is  mainly,  I  believe,  through  this  superior 
education,  so  easily  attained,  that  so  many  of  the  youth  of  our  north- 
ern region  are  inspired  with  the  ambition  which  leads  them  upwards 
to  professional  life  in  their  own  country,  or  else  sends  them  abroad 
in  quest  of  the  fortune  hard  to  find  at  home.  I  observe,  while  writ- 
ing these  pages,  the  advertisement  of  an  academy  in  England,  where, 
beside  sixty  pounds  by  way  of  board,  the  fees  for  tuition  amount  to 
twenty-five.  For  this  twenty-five  pounds,  a  Scottish  burgher  of  my 
young  days  could  have  five  sons  carried  through  a  complete  classical 
course.  The  difference  is  overwhelmingly  in  favor  of  the  Scotch 
grammar-school,  as  far  as  the  money  matter  is  concerned.  And  thus 
it  will  appear  that  the  good  education  which  has  enabled  me  to  ad- 
dress so  much  literature,  of  whatever  value,  to  the  public  during  the 
last  forty-five  years,  never  cost  my  parents  so  much  as  ten  pounds. 

"  There  was  a  bookseller  in  Peebles,  a  great  fact.  There  had  not 
always  been  one ;  but  some  years  before  my  entrance  upon  existence, 
a  decent  man  named  Alexander  Elder  had  come  to  the  town,  and 
established  himself  as  a  dealer  in  intellectual  wares.  He  was  a  very 
careful  and  sober  man,  and  in  the  end,  as  was  fitting,  became  rich  in 
comparison  with  many  of  his  neighbors.  It  seems  a  curious  reminis- 
cence of  my  first  bookseller's  shop,  that,  on  entering  it,  one  always 
got  a  peep  of  a  cow,  which  quietly  chewed  her  cud  close  behind  the 
book-shelves,  such  being  one  of  Sandy's  means  of  providing  for  his 
family.  Sandy  was  great  in  Shorter  Catechisms,  and  what  he  called 
spells,  and  school  Bibles,  and  Testaments,  and  in  James  Lumsden's 
(of  Glasgow)  halfpenny  colored  pictures  of  the  '  World  Turned  Up- 
side Down,'  the  '  Battle  of  Trafalgar,1  etc.,  and  in  penny  chap-books 
of  an  extraordinary  coarseness  of  language.  He  had  stores,  too,  of 
school  slates  and  skecly,  of  paper  for  copies,  and  of  pens,  or  rather 
36 


562  ROBERT     AND     WILLIAM     CHAMBERS. 

quills,  for  *  made  '  pens  were  never  sold  then,  one  of  which  he  would 
hand  us  across  his  counter  with  a  civil  glance  over  the  top  of  his 
spectacles,  as  if  saying,  'Now,  laddie,  see  and  mak'  a  guid  use  o't.' 
But  Sandy  was  enterprising  and  enlightened  beyond  the  common 
range  of  booksellers  in  small  country  towns,  and  had  added  a  circu- 
lating library  to  his  ordinary  business.  My  father,  led  by  his  strong 
intellectual  tastes,  had  early  become  a  supporter  of  this  institution, 
and  thus  it  came  about  that  by  the  time  we  were  nine  or  ten  years 
of  age,  my  brother  and  1  had  read  a  considerable  number  of  the 
classics  of  English  literature,  or  heard  our  father  read  them ;  were 
familiar  with  the  comicalities  of  'Gulliver,'  'Don  Quixote,'  and 
'  Peregrine  Pickle ;'  had  dipped  into  the  poetry  of  Pope  and  Gold- 
smith, and  indulged  our  romantic  tendencies  in  books  of  travel  and 
adventure,  which  were  to  us  scarcely  less  attractive  than  the  works 
of  pure  imagination.  When  lately  attending  the  Wells  of  Homburg, 
I  had  but  one  English  book  to  amuse  me,  Pope's  translation  of  the 
'Iliad,'  and  I  felt  it  as  towards  myself  an  affecting  reminiscence,  that 
exactly  fifty  years  had  elapsed  since  I  perused  the  copy  from  Elder's 
library,  in  a  little  room  looking  out  upon  the  High  Street  of  Peebles, 
where  an  English  regiment  was  parading  recruits  raised  for  Welling- 
ton's Peninsular  campaign. 

"  There  was  certainly  something  considerably  superior  to  the  com- 
mon book-trader  in  my  friend  Alexander  Elder,  for  his  catalogue  in- 
cluded several  books  striking  far  above  the  common  taste,  and  some- 
what costly  withal.     There  was,  for  example,  a  copy  of  a  strange  and 
curious  book  of  which  Sir  Walter  Scott  speaks  on  several  occasions 
with   great  interest,  a  metrical   history  of  the   clan    Scott,    written 
about  the  time  of  the  Revolution  by  one  Walter  Scott,  a  retired  old 
soldier  of  the  Scottish  legions   of  Gustavus  Adolphus,  who  describes 
himself  unnecessarily  as  '  no   scholar,'    for  in  its  rhyme,  metre,  and 
entire   frame  of  language  it   is  truly  wretched,  while  yet  interesting 
on  account  of  the  quaintness  of  its  ideas  and  the  information  it  con- 
veys.    Another  of  Sandy's  book  treasures — and  the  money  value  of 
them   makes   the   term   appropriate — was  the   '^Eneidos    of  Virgil," 
translated  into  Scottish  verse  by  Gavin  Douglas,  Bishop  of  Dunkeld, 
well  known  as  a  most   interesting   product  of  the   literary  mind  of 
Scotland  at  the  beginning  of  the  sixteenth  century,  and  gratifying  to 
our  national  vanity  as  prior  to  any  translations  of  Virgil  into  English. 
"In   a   fit   of  extraordinary  enterprise,  Sandy  had  taken  into  his 
library  the  successive  volumes  of  the  fourth  edition  of  the  '  Encyclo- 
paedia Britannica,'   and  had   found    nobody   but  my   father   in   the 
slightest  degree  interested  in  them.     My  father  made  a  stretch  with 
his  moderate  means,  and  took  the  book  off  Sandy's  hands.     It  was 
a  cumbrous  article  in  a  small  house ;  so,  after  the  first  interest  in  its 
contents  had  subsided,  it  had  been  put  into  a  chest  (which  it  filled), 
and  laid  up  in  an  attic  beside  the  cotton  wefts   and   the  meal  ark. 
Roaming  about  there  one  day,  in  that  morning  of  intellectual  curi- 


TAUGHT     BY     VALUABLE     BOOKS.  563 

osity,  I  lighted  upon  the  stored  book,  and  from  that  time  for  weeks 
all  my  spare  time  was  spent  beside  the  chest.  It  was  a  new  world  to 
me.  I  felt  a  profound  thankfulness  that  such  a  convenient  collection 
of  human  knowledge  existed,  and  that  here  it  was  spread  out  like  a 
well-plenished  table  before  me.  What  the  gift  of  a  whole  toy-shop 
would  have  been  to  most  children,  this  book  was  to  me.  I  plunged 
into  it.  I  roamed  through  it  like  a  bee.  I  hardly  could  be  patient 
enough  to  read  any  one  article,  while  so  many  others  remained  to  be 
looked  into.  In  that  on  Astronomy,  the  constitution  of  the  material 
universe  was  all  at  once  revealed  to  me.  Henceforth  I  knew — what 
no  other  boy  in  the  town  then  dreamed  of — that  there  were  infinite 
numbers  of  worlds  besides  our  own,  which  was  by  comparison  a  very 
insignificant  one.  From  the  zoological  articles,  I  gathered  that  the 
animals,  familiar  and  otherwise,  were  all  classified  into  a  system 
through  which  some  faint  traces  of  a  plan  were  discernible.  Geog- 
raphy, of  which  not  the  slightest  elements  were  then  imparted  at 
school,  here  came  before  me  in  numberless  articles  and  maps,  expand- 
ing my  narrow  village  world  to  one  embracing  the  uttermost  ends  of 
earth.  I  pitied  my  companions  who  remained  ignorant  of  what 
became  to  me  familiar  knowledge.  Some  articles  were  splendidly 
attractive  to  the  imagination;  for  example,  that  entitled  Aerostation, 
which  illustrated  all  that  had  been  done  in  the  way  of  aerial  travel- 
ing from  Montgolfier  downwards.  Another  paper  interested  me 
much, — that  descriptive  of  the  inquiries  of  Dr.  Saussure  regarding 
the  constitution  and  movement  of  glaciers.  The  biographical  articles, 
introducing  to  me  the  great  men  who  had  laid  up  these  stores  of 
knowledge,  or  otherwise  affected  the  destinies  of  their  species,  were 
devoured  in  rapid  succession.  What  a  year  that  was  to  me,  not 
merely  in  intellectual  enjoyment,  but  in  mental  formation !  I  believe 
it  was  my  eleventh,  for  before  I  was  twelve,  misfortune  had  taken 
the  book  from  us  to  help  in  satisfying  creditors.  It  appears  to  me 
somewhat  strange  that,  in  a  place  so  remote-,  so  primitive,  and  con- 
taining so  little  wealth,  at  a  time  when  the  movement  for  the  spread 
of  knowledge  had  not  yet  been  thought  of,  such  an  opportunity  for 
the  gratification  of  an  inquiring  young  mind  should  have  been  pre- 
sented. It  was  all  primarily  owing  to  the  liberal  spirit  of  enterprise 
which  animated  this  cow-keeping  country  bookseller. 

"  The  themes  first  presented  to  the  young  mind  certainly  sink  into 
it  the  deepest.  The  sciences  of  which  I  obtained  the  first  tracings 
through  the  "  Encyclopaedia,"  have  all  through  life  been  endeared 
to  me  above  the  rest.  The  books  of  imagination  which  I  first  read 
from  Elder's  library  have  ever  borne  a  preference  in  my  heart,  what- 
ever may  be  the  judgment  of  modern  taste  regarding  them.  It  pains 
me  to  this  day  to  hear  severe  remarks  made  upon  Fielding  and 
Sterne.  I  should  feel  myself  to  be  a  base  ingrate  if  I  could  join  in 
condemning  men  who  first  gave  me  views  of  social  life  beyond  my 
natal  village  sphere,  and  who,  by  their  powers  of  entertainment,  lent 


564  ROBERT    AND     WILLIAM     CHAMBERS. 

such  a  charm  to  years  during  which  material  enjoyments  were  few. 
These  intellectual  '  loves  of  life's  young  day  '  sometimes  led  literary 
men  in  the  choice  of  themes  for  their  own  pens.  It  was  from  such 
a  feeling  regarding  Smollett,  that  I  was  induced  to  make  an  effort  to 
set  his  life  in  a  more  respectful  light  before  the  world  than  it  had 
previously  enjoyed,  while  assuredly  invited  to  other  tasks  in  several 
respects  more  promising.  It  strikes  me  that  gratitude  to  an  author, 
also  to  a  teacher,  to  any  one  who  has  benefited  us  intellectually,  is  as 
desirable  a  form  of  the  feeling  as  any.  I  raise  statues  in  my  heart  to 
the  fictionists  above-named,  and  to  many  others  who  nowhere  have 
statues  of  bronze  or  marble,  and  I  likewise  deem  it  not  unfitting  that 
there  should  be  flower-crowned  miniatures  in  my  bosom  of  James 
Sloan  and  Sandy  Elder." 

I  can  unite  in  these  commendations.  With  Elder's  field  of  litera- 
ture laid  open  to  us,  Robert  and  I  read  at  a  great  rate,  going  right 
through  the  catalogue  of  books  without  much  regard  to  methodized 
study.  In  fact,  we  had  to  take  what  we  could  get  and  be  thankful. 
Permitted  to  have  only  one  volume  at  a  time,  we  made  up  for  short 
allowance  by  reading  as  quickly  as  possible,  and,  to  save  time,  often 
read  together  from  the  same  book,  one  having  the  privilege  of  turn- 
ing over  the  leaves.  Desultory  as  was  this  course  of  reading,  it  un- 
doubtedly widened  the  sphere  of  our  ideas ;  and  it  would  be  ungrate- 
ful not  to  acknowledge  that  some  of  my  own  success,  and  not  a  few 
of  the  higher  pleasures  experienced  in  life,  are  primarily  due  to  that 
library  in  the  little  old  burgh. 

Enough — perhaps  more  than  enough — has  been  given  of  these  rem- 
iniscences of  boyish  days,  and  something  may  now  be  said  of  the 
circumstances  which,  in  a  strangely  unexpected  manner,  sent  my 
brother  and  myself  adrift  into  the  world  that  lay  beyond  our  hitherto 
limited  horizon. 

The  calm  tenor  of  my  father's  affairs  was  at  length  abruptly  ruffled. 
The  introduction  of  the  power-loom  and  other  mechanical  appliances 
had  already  begun  to  revolutionize  the  cotton  trade.  Down  and 
down  sank  hand-loom  weaving,  till  it  was  threatened  with  extinction, 
and  ultimately  the  trade  was  followed  only  as  a  desperate  necessity. 
Happy  were  those  who  gave  it  up  in  time,  and  betook  themselves  to 
something  else.  Moved  by  the  declining  aspect  of  his  commission 
business,  by  father  bethought  himself  of  commencing  as  a  draper. 
For  this  purpose,  he  alienated  the  small  property  in  which  my  brother 
and  I  were  born,  and  removed  to  a  central  part  of  the  town.  Here 
he  began  his  new  line  of  business,  for  which,  excepting  his  obliging 
manners,  he  had  no  particular  qualification.  As,  however,  there  was 
then  little  of  that  eager  striving  which  is  now  conspicuous  every- 
where, matters  would  have  gone  on  pretty  well,  but  for  one  untoward 
circumstance. 

As  an  out-of-the-way  country  town,  Peebles  had  been  selected  by 


PRISONERS     OF    WAR.  565 

government  as  a  place  suitable  for  the  residence  of  prisoners  of  war  on 
parole,  shortly  after  the  re-commencement  of  hostilities  in  1803. 
Not  more,  however,  than  twenty  or  thirty  of  these  exiles  arrived  at 
this  early  period.  They  were  mostly  Dutch  and  Walloons,  with 
afterwards  a  few  Danes — unfortunate  mariners  seized  on  the  coast  of 
the  Netherlands,  and  sent  to  spend  their  lives  in  an  inland  Scottish 
town.  These  men  did  not  repine.  They  nearly  all  betook  them- 
selves to  learn  some  handicraft,  to  eke  out  their  scanty  allowance.  At 
leisure  hours  they  might  be  seen  fishing,  in  long  leather  boots,  as  if 
glad  to  procure  a  few  trouts  and  eels,  and  at  the  same  time  satisfy 
the  desire  to  dabble  in  the  water.  In  1810,  a  large  accession  was 
made  to  this  body  of  prisoners  of  war,  by  the  arrival  of  upwards  of  a 
hundred  officers  of  an  entirely  different  quality.  They  consisted  of 
French,  Poles,  and  Italians,  in  a  variety  of  strange,  tarnished  uni- 
forms, fresh  from  the  seat  of  war  in  the  Peninsula.  These  unfortunate 
gentlemen,  a  few  of  them  very  young,  were  accommodated  with 
lodgings  in  the  town,  and  being  scarcely  under  any  sort  of  restriction, 
they  gradually  became  domesticated  in  several  families.  For  their 
own  amusement,  as  well  as  to  repay  acts  of  hospitality, — perhaps, 
also,  to  make  friends  among  the  trades-people, — they  set  up  a  private 
theater  in  an  old  ball-room,  in  which  they  enlivened  the  town  by 
performing  gratuitously  some  of  the  plays  of  Corneille  and  Moliere 
To  these  performances  I  was  freely  admitted,  on  my  father's  account; 
and  so  reaped  the  double  advantage  of  having  my  ear  accustomed  to 
the  French  language,  and  of  being  made  acquainted  with  some  of 
the  French  dramatists.  Nor  did  I  dislike  the  French  on  other  ac- 
counts. The  kitchen  of  their  mess  offered  a  market  for  my  rabbits, 
which  I  bred  as  an  article  of  commerce  to  aid  in  purchasing  books. 

My  mother,  even  while  lending  her  dresses  and  caps  to  enable 
performers  to  represent  female  characters,  never  liked  the  intimacy 
which  had  been  formed  between  the  French  officers  and  my  father. 
Against  his  giving  them  credit,  she  constantly  remonstrated  in  vain. 
It  was  a  tempting  but  perilous  trade.  For  a  time  they  paid  wonder- 
fully well.  A  number  of  them,  when  captured  in  Spain,  had  secreted 
sums  of  money  about  their  person,  and  gold  ducats  and  sequins,  as 
I  remember,  were  for  a  period  as  common  as  guineas  in  Peebles ; 
though  that,  perhaps,  is  not  saying  very  much.  These  exiles  likewise 
occasionally  received  remittances  from  France ;  for  although  the  war 
was  going  on  very  hotly,  there  was  still,  as  a  matter  of  public  con- 
venience, some  kind  of  postal  intercourse  maintained  with  the  French 
coast.  With  such  allurements,  my  father  confidingly  gave  extensive 
credit  to  these  strangers,  men  who,  by  their  position,  were  not  amen- 
able to  the  civil  law,  and  whose  obligations,  according,  were  alto- 
gether debts  of  honor.  The  consequence  was  what  might  have  been 
anticipated.  An  order  suddenly  arrived  from  the  government,  com- 
manding the  whole  of  the  prisoners  to  quit  Peebles,  and  march  chiefly 
to  Sanquhar  in  Dumfriesshire,  the  cause  of  the  movement  being  the 


566  ROBERT     AND     WILLIAM    CHAMBERS. 

prospective  arrival  of  a  militia  regiment.  The  intelligence  came  one 
Sunday  afternoon.  What  a  gloom  prevailed  at  several  firesides  that 
fatal  evening  ! 

On  their  departure,  the  French  prisoners  made  many  fervid 
promises  that,  should  they  ever  return  to  their  own  country,  they 
would  have  pleasure  in  discharging  their  debts.  They  all  got  home 
at  the  peace  in  1814,  but  not  one  of  them  ever  paid  a  farthing.  A 
list  of  their  names,  debts,  and  official  position  in  the  army  of  Napo- 
leon, remains  as  a  curiosity  in  my  possession.  It  is  not  unlikely  that 
a  number  of  these  returned  exiles  found  a  grave  on  the  field  of 
Waterloo.  Whatever  became  of  them,  there  was  soon  a  crisis  in  my 
father's  affairs.  The  pressure  might  have  been  got  over,  for  with 
patience  there  were  means  to  satisfy  all  demands ;  but  the  possibility 
of  rectifying  affairs  was  defeated  by  weakly  taking  the  advice  of  an 
interested  party,  a  relative  of  my  mother,  who  recommended  a  seques- 
tration. The  result  was  that  the  sage  adviser,  as  trustee,  managed 
every  thing  so  adroitly  for  his  own  benefit,  that  the  creditors  received 
but  a  small  dividend,  and  the  family  lost  almost  every  thing.  It  is 
hateful  to  refer  to  this  piece  of  folly  and  villainy,  because  it  reminds 
me  of  poignant  distresses ;  but  it  is  necessary  to  give  it  some  degree 
of  prominence,  for  it  forms  the  pivot  on  which  the  present  narrative 
turns. 

By  various  shifts,  the  family  continued  to  struggle  on  for  a  year  or 
two  in  Peebles  after  this  catastrophe.  The  penury  which  was  endured 
was  less  painful  than  the  acute  sense  of  social  degradation.  My 
mother  looked  for  some  sympathy  and  assistance  from  her  brother 
and  also  from  other  relatives  at  a  distance,  but  without  avail.  Feel- 
ing, with  a  too  keen  susceptibility,  that  he  had  lost  caste,  my  father 
never  quite  held  up  his  head  after  this  event ;  yet,  deplored  at  the  time, 
it  really  proved  a  fortunate  circumstance.  Like  a  wholesome  though 
unpleasant  storm  in  a  stagnating  atmosphere,  it  cleared  the  way  for 
a  new  and  better  order  of  things.  A  seemingly  great  misfortune 
ultimately  proved  to  be  no  misfortune  at  all,  in  fact,  a  blessing,  for 
which  my  brother  and  I,  as  well  as  other  members  of  the  family, 
could  not  be  sufficiently  thankful. 

The  wise  resolution  was  adopted  of  quitting  Peebles.  My  mother, 
animated  by  keen  anxiety  and  foresight,  was  particularly  solicitous  to 
remove,  with  a  view  to  procure  means  of  advancement  for  her  sons. 
Accordingly,  impelled  alike  by  necessity  and  inclination,  the  family 
removed  to  Edinburgh,  Robert  being  alone  left  to  pursue  his  educa- 
tion for  a  short  time  longer.  Crowded  into  the  Fly,  then  the  only 
engine  of  public  conveyance  to  the  Scottish  capital,  we  crossed  the 
Kingside-Edge,  as  a  high  ridge  of  land  is  called,  on  a  bleak  day  in 
December,  1813,  my  mother  with  an  infant  daughter  on  her  knee, 
and  a  heart  full  of  mingled  hopes  and  fears  of  the  future.  It  was  a 
five  hours'  journey,  of  which  one  entire  hour  was  spent  at  Venture- 
fair  to  rest  the  horses.  Here  the  party  were  hospitably  entertained 


REMOVAL     TO     EDINBURGH.  567 

with  warm  kail  by  Jenny  Wilson,  who  kept  the  small  inn  along  with 
her  brother  William.  So  reinvigorated,  we  drove  on  in  somewhat 
better  spirits,  entering  Edinburgh  by  the  Causeway  side;  my  mother 
with  but  a  few  shillings  in  her  pocket — there  was  not  a  half-penny  in 
mine. 

SETTLING   IN   EDINBURGH — 1813-1814. 

Families  falling  by  misfortune  into  straightened  circumstances,  of 
course  lose  many  old  friends  and  acquaintances,  at  least  as  far  as  fa- 
miliar personal  intercourse  is  concerned.  This  loss,  though  often  the 
subject  of  sorrowful  and  angry  remark,  is  not  an  unmitigated  evil. 
Sympathy  is  doubtless  due,  throughout  all  perplexing  social  distinc- 
tions; gracious  are  the  acts  of  a  true  friend;  kindness  to  the  unfor- 
tunate will  ever  command  approbation  ;  but  let  us  not  forget  that  it 
is  better  for  personal  intimacies  to  suffer  some  modification,  than  for 
the  impoverished  to  lose  self-respect  and  become  dependent  on  a 
system  of  habitual  condescension.  It  seems  hard  to  take  this  view 
of  the  matter,  but  I  fear  that  on  no  other  basis  can  the  indigent  as- 
pire to  be  the  associates  of  the  affluent.  Could  matters  be  seen  rightly, 
they  would  appear  to  be  as  well  ordered  in  this  as  in  other  things 
which  concern  our  welfare. 

Happily,  the  defection,  real  or  apparent,  of  old  friends  is  not  un- 
compensated.  Sinking  into  a  lower  sphere,  a  new  and  hitherto  un- 
discovered region  is  disclosed.  A  higher  class,  as  we  are  apt  to  feel, 
has  cruelly  turned  its  back  on  us;  but  we  are  received  with  open  arms 
by  a  very  good  and  agreeable  sort  of  people,  in  whose  moderate  in- 
comes, and,  it  may  be,  misfortunes  and  struggles,  we  feel  the  pleas- 
ures of  fellowship.  The  Vicar  of  Wakefield,  it  will  be  recollected, 
did  not  find  the  jail  such  a  bad  thing  after  all. 

My  parents,  on  settling  in  Edinburgh,  may  be  presumed  to  have 
found  consolations  of  this  nature.  According  to  immemorial  usage, 
families  with  limited  means  from  the  southern  counties  of  Scotland, 
who  seek  a  home  in  the  capital,  sagaciously  pitch  on  one  of  the  second- 
rate  streets  in  the  southern  suburbs.  There,  sprinkled  about  in  com- 
mon stairs,  they  form  a  kind  of  colony,  possessing  a  community  of 
south-country  recollections  and  gossip. 

Following  the  established  rule,  our  first  home  was  a  floor  entering 
from  a  common  stair  in  West  Nicolson  street.  Beneath  us,  level 
with  the  ground,  resided  a  poor  widow,  who  drew  a  scanty  living  from 
a  small  huckstery  concern.  Immediately  above  us  dwelt  the  widow 
of  a  Roxburgshire  clergyman,  a  motherly  person,  with  two  grown-up 
daughters.  Over  this  respectable  family,  and  highest  of  all,  was  a 
tailor,  who,  working  in  the  window-sole  of  his  apartment,  had  the 
reputation  of  doing  things  cheaply.  On  a  level  with  us,  next  tene- 
ment, but  entering  by  a  different  stair,  was  a  family  of  some  distinc- 
tion, consisting  ol  the  two  ladies,  Miss  Betty  and  Miss  Ailie  Hay, 


568  ROBERT     AND     WILLIAM     CHAMBERS. 

already  spoken  of  by  my  brother.  The  kitchen  fire-places  of  both 
dwellings  being  back  to  back,  with  a  thin  and  imperfect  wall  between, 
the  servant  girls  of  the  two  families,  both  exiles  from  Tweedside, 
were  able  to  carry  on  comforting  conversations  by  removing  a  brick 
at  pleasure  in  the  chimney ;  through  which  irregular  channel  much 
varied  intelligence  from  Peebles-shire  was  interchanged  between  the 
two  families.  Here  we  lived  till  Whitsunday,  1814,  when  we  removed 
to  a  floor  of  a  like  quality  in  Hamilton's  Entry,  Bristo  street,  the 
back  windows  of  the  house  overlooking  the  small  court  in  which  is 
situated  a  little  old  building,  with  a  tiled  roof,  that  had  been  Walter 
Scott's  first  school  in  Edinburgh. 

If  any  thing,  the  families  hereabout  were  more  hard-up,  and,  to  be 
plain,  we  were  more  hard-up  too.  Our  dwelling  was  on  the  second 
floor  of  the  stair,  and  on  the  flat  immediately  beneath  resided  Eben- 
ezer  Picken,  a  scholarly  gentleman  in  reduced  circumstances,  who, 
after  trying  various  shifts  to  secure  a  living  for  himself  and  family, 
now  professed  to  teach  languages,  and  endeavored  to  sell  by  subscrip- 
tion one  or  two  volumes  of  poems,  which,  I  fear,  did  not  do  much 
for  him.  He  died  in  1816.  His  son,  Andrew,  who  was  also  a  poetic 
genius,  and  about  my  own  age,  became  affected  with  the  mania  con- 
cerning Poyais,  and  emigrated  with  a  number  of  others  to  that  pesti- 
lential marsh,  where  most  of  the  settlers  died  shortly  after  landing, 
Andrew  kindly  acting  as  chaplain,  with  a  shirt  for  surplice,  and  read- 
ing the  funeral  service.  From  a  fellow-feeling  in  circumstances,  we 
formed  an  intimacy  with  our  neighbors  the  Pickens,  while  residing 
in  the  same  tenement,  and  the  friendship  was  extended  over  a  series 
of  years,  until  the  remaining  members  of  the  family  went  to  America. 

As  regards  ways  and  means.  On  coming  to  Edinburgh,  my  father 
had  resumed  his  commission  business  from  Glasgow  cotton-manufac- 
turers, but  this  trade  had  long  been  declining,  and  was  but  a  meager 
dependence.  To  aggravate  his  difficulties,  he  was  not  qualified  by 
knowledge  of  the  world  to  deal  with  the  class  of  workmen  to  whom 
he  furnished  employment.  Some  of  them  were  decent  enough  old 
sinewy  men,  sufficiently  tnistworthy;  but  others,  accustomed  to  go 
on  the  tramp,  used  artifices  that  baffled  his  ingenuity.  Carrying  on 
their  handicraft  in  obscure  recesses  in  Fountainbridge,  St.  Ann's 
Yards,  the  Back  of  the  Canongate,  or  Abbey  Hill,  it  was  sometimes 
as  difficult  to  trace  them  out  as  to  get  any  right  clew  to  their  ma- 
neuvers. It  was  by  no  means  unusual  to  find  that  the  materials  in- 
trusted to  them  were  dishonestly  pawned,  and  that  sums  of  money 
advanced  for  half-done  work  on  piteous  appeals  of  distress  were  irre- 
coverable. In  short,  my  father  was  much  too  soft  for  this  kind  of 
business;  and  the  result  was  what  might  have  been  expected.  With 
resources  on  the  verge  of  exhaustion,  there  ensued  privations  against 
which  it  required  no  small  degree  of  composure  to  bear  up.  The  old 
German  flute,  preserved  as  a  precious  relic  throughout  all  the  vicissi- 
tudes of  the  family,  was  sometimes  resorted  to  as  a  solace,  although 


RESIDENCE     IN     EDINBURGH.  569 

the  favorite  airs,  such  as  "Corn  Rigs,"  did  not  sound  half  so  sweetly, 
it  was  thought,  in  the  dingy  atmosphere  of  Hamilton's  Entry,  as  they 
had  done  along  the  Eddleston  Water. 

The  dark  Ages,  as  we  have  since  jestingly  called  them,  had  begun, 
and  for  a  number  of  successive  years  an  acquaintance  was  contracted 
with  families  and  individuals,  who,  if  not  experiencing  a  similar  de- 
pression, occupied  an  unpretending  position  in  society.  I  can  recol- 
lect some  of  them,  and  also  the  shifty  scenes  to  which  they  were  less 
or  more  impelled,  by  the  necessities  of  their  situation.  Widows  of 
decayed  tradesmen,  who  were  moving  heaven  and  earth  to  get  their 
sons  into  hospitals,  and  their  daughters  taught  to  be  governesses. 
Teachers  in  the  decline  of  life,  like  poor  Picken,  endeavoring  to  draw 
a  subsistence  from  the  fees  of  most-difficult-to-be-procured  pupils. 
Licensed  preachers  to  whom  fate  had  not  assigned  a  kirk,  and  who, 
after  years  of  pining,  now  made  a  livelihood  by  preparing  young  men 
for  university  degrees.  Genteel  unmarried  women,  left  destitute  by 
improvident  fathers,  who  contrived  to  maintain  themselves  by  color- 
ing maps,  or  by  sewing  fine  needle-work  for  the  Repository — a  benev- 
olent and  useful  institution,  to  which  be  all  praise.  Why  continue 
the  catalogue? 

There  was  some  use  in  knowing  and  being  known  to  these  kinds 
of  people.  I  speak  not  of  the  value  to  myself,  as  having  an  oppor- 
tunity of  studying  some  of  the  humbler  and  more  characteristic 
phases  of  society.  To  my  father  and  mother,  these  persons,  with 
their  varied  experience,  could  furnish  hints  as  to  how  petty  difficul- 
ties incidental  to  their  condition  might  be  overcome.  One  or  two 
things  they  seem  to  have  made  their  special  study.  They  knew  the 
proper  methods  of  applying  for  situations  in  public  offices,  and  what 
expedients  could  be  attempted  to  elude  the  payment  of  rates  and 
taxes.  For  the  most  part,  they  entertained  a  high  respect  for,  and 
duly  stood  in  awe  of,  magistrates,  ministers,  and  great  men  generally ; 
for  it  was  only  through  such  distinguished  authorities  that  certificates 
of  character  and  help  in  various  ways  could  be  obtained  in  cases  of 
emergency.  Far  be  it  from  me  to  impute  dishonesty  to  these  in- 
geniously struggling  and  scheming  classes.  On  the  whole,  in  the 
darkest  of  their  days,  so  far  as  I  knew,  they  maintained  a  wonderful 
determination  to  keep  square  with  the  world.  It  must  be  admitted, 
however,  that  the  classes  to  which  I  allude  too  frequently  partici- 
pated in  loose  notions  concerning  taxes.  Demands  of  this  nature 
seemed  to  be  little  better  than  asking  money  for  nothing.  Rates  and 
taxes  might  be  right  in  the  abstract ;  that  they  did  not  question.  But 
the  collector  who  came  periodically  to  your  door  with  a  portentious 
pocket-book,  and  made  point-blank  demands  for  sums  of  money — 
such  as  fifteen  shillings  and  ninepence  half-penny,  or  one  pound 
eleven  and  threepence — which  it  was  exceedingly  inconvenient  to  pay, 
was  clearly  a  nuisance ;  and  with  no  stretch  of  conscience,  he  might 


570  ROBERT     AND    WILLIAM     CHAMBERS. 

be  coaxed,  wheedled,  put  off,  and  told  to  call  again  as  long  as  it  was 
safe  to  do  so. 

In  the  midst  of  the  straits  to  which  these  remarks  refer,  my  father, 
through  congeniality  of  taste,  made  the  acquaintance  of  several  per- 
sons possessed  of  musical  and  poetical  acquirements.  One  of  these 
was  Mr.  John  Hamilton,  author  of  the  song,  "  Up  in  the  Morning 
Early,"  who,  drawing  to  the  conclusion  of  his  days,  lived  in  a  stair 
at  the  south  end  of  Lothian  street,  and  in  good  weather  might  be 
seen  creeping  feebly  along  the  walks  in  the  Meadows,  deriving  pleas- 
ure from  the  sunshine,  to  which  he  was  soon  to  bid  adieu.  Another 
was  Mr.  Samuel  Clarke,  noted  for  his  musical  genius,  who  acted  as 
organist  of  the  Episcopal  Chapel  in  the  Cowgate,  the  services  of 
which  place  of  public  worship  were  at  that  time  conducted  by  the 
Rev.  Archibald  Alison,  author  of  the  "Essay  on  Taste,"  and  "Ser- 
mons on  the  Seasons,"  and  whose  son  was  the  late  Sir  Archibald 
Alison,  author  of  the  "History  of  Europe."  As  music  was  my 
father's  overwhelming  passion,  his  introduction  to  the  church  organ 
under  the  auspices  of  Clarke  was  a  matter  of  extreme  exultation. 
Entranced  with  the  performances  of  the  organ  and  choir,  he  became 
a  frequent  attender  on  the  ministrations  of  Mr.  Alison,  whose  per- 
suasive piety,  refined  sentiments,  and  elegant  diction,  possessed,  as  is 
well  known,  an  indescribable  charm. 

Charged  more  especially  with  family  cares,  my  mother  had  other 
considerations  than  church  music.  What  was  to  be  done  with  rne 
was  a  primary  concern.  I  was  in  my  fourteenth  year.  Further 
schooling  was  out  of  the  question.  Robert  might  go  on  with  his 
education  as  long  as  seemed  expedient,  but  it  was  time  I  should  get 
to  work.  What  would  I  be?  My  tastes  lay  in  the  direction  of  books; 
any  department  would  do.  A  friend,  put  on  the  scent,  reported  that 
on  inquiry  of  a  leading  member  of  the  profession,  bookselling  was  a 
poor  business ;  at  best,  it  was  very  precarious,  and  could  not  be  rec- 
ommended. Not  discouraged,  I  still  thought  my  vocation  lay 
towards  literature  in  some  shape  or  other. 

Since  our  arrival  in  town,  I  had  read  all  that  could  be  read  for 
nothing  at  the  booksellers'  windows,  and  at  the  stalls  which  were 
stuck  about  the  College  and  High  School  Wynds.  I  had  also  be- 
come a  great  frequenter  of  the  evening  book-auctions.  The  principal 
were  Carfrae's  in  Drummond  street,  and  that  of  Peter  Cairns  in  the 
Agency  Office,  opposite  the  University.  At  present,  book-auctions 
are  only  during  the  day;  then  they  took  place  in  the  evening,  and 
were  a  favorite  resort.  The  sales  were  indicated  by  a  lantern,  with 
panes  of  white  calico,  at  the  door,  on  which  was  inscribed,  "Auction 
of  Books."  My  attendance,  punctual  on  the  hanging  of  the  lantern, 
was  a  new  and  delightful  recreation.  The  facetiae  ol  the  auctioneers, 
their  observations  on  books  and  authors,  and  the  competitions  in  the 
biddings,  were  all  interesting  to  a  lad  fresh  from  the  country.  Car- 
frae's was  the  more  genteel  and  dignified.  Cairns'  was  the  more 


AN     EDINBUGH    AUCTIONEER.  571 

amusing  of  these  lounges,  wherefore  it  suited  best  for  those  who  went 
for  fun,  and  not  for  buying,  on  which  account  it  chiefly  secured  my 
patronage. 

Peter  was  a  dry  humorist,  somewhat  saturnine  from  business  misad- 
ventures. Professedly,  he  was  a  bookseller  in  South  College  street, 
and  exhibited  over  his  door  a  huge  sham  copy  of  Virgil  by  way  of 
sign.  His  chief  trade,  however,  was  the  auctioning  of  books  and 
stationery  at  the  Agency  Office,  a  place  with  a  strong  smell  of  new 
furniture,  amidst  which  it  was  necessary  to  pass  before  arriving  at  the 
saloon  in  the  rear  where  the  auctions  were  habitually  held.  Warm, 
well  lighted,  and  comfortably  fitted  up  with  seats  within  a  railed  in- 
closure,  environing  the  books  to  be  disposed  of,  this  place  of  evening 
resort  was  as  good  as  a  reading  room  ;  indeed,  rather  better,  for  there 
was  a  constant  fund  of  amusement  in  Peter's  caustic  jocularities,  as 
when  he  begged  to  r.emind  his  audience  that  this  was  a  place  for  sell- 
ing, not  for  reading  books,  sarcasms,  which  always  provoked  a  round 
of  ironical  applause.  His  favorite  author  was  Goldsmith*  an  edition 
of  whose  works  he  had  published,  which  pretty  frequently  figured  in 
his  catalogue.  On  coming  to  these  works,  he  always  referred  to  them 
with  profound  respect;  as,  for  example,  "The  next  in  the  catalogue, 
gentlemen,  is  the  works  of  Oliver  Gooldsmith,  the  greatest  writer  that 
ever  lived,  except  Sheakespeare ;  what  do  you  say  for  it?  I'll  put  it 
up  at  ten  shillings."  Some  one  would  perhaps  audaciously  bid  two- 
pence, which  threw  him  into  a  rage,  and  he  would  indignantly  call 
out,  "  Tippence,  man;  keep  that  for  the  brode"  meaning  the  plate 
at  the  church  door.  If  the  same  person  dared  to  repeat  the  insult 
with  regard  to  some  other  work,  Peter  would  say,  "  Dear  me,  has 
that  poor  man  not  got  rid  of  his  tippence?"  which  turned  the  laugh, 
and  effectually  silenced  him  all  the  rest  of  the  evening.  Peter's 
temper  was  apt  to  get  ruffled  when  biddings  temporarily  ceased.  .  He 
then  declared  that  he  might  as  well  try  to  auction  books  in  the  poor- 
house.  On  such  occasions,  driven  to  desperation,  he  would  try  the 
audience  with  a  bunch  of  quills,  a  dozen  black-lead  pencils,  or  a 
"quare"  of  Bath-post,  vengefully  knocking  which  down  at  the  price 
bidden  for  them,  he  would  shout  to  "  Wully,"  the  clerk,  to  look  after 
the  money.  Never  minding  Peter's  querulous  observations  further 
than  to  join  in  the  general  laugh,  I,  like  a  number  of  other  penniless 
youths,  got  some  good  snatches  of  reading  at  the  auctions  in  the 
Agency  Office.  I  there  saw  and  handled  books  which  I  had  never 
heard  of,  and  in  this  manner  obtained  a  kind  of  notion  of  bibliog- 
raphy. My  brother,  who,  like  myself,  became  a  frequenter  of  the 
Agency  Office,  relished  Peter  highly,  and  has  touched  him  off  in  one 
of  his  essays. 

Inquiries  for  the  situation  of  apprentice  in  a  bookseller's  shop  not 
proving  successful,  and  time  wearing  on,  I  relinquished  my  precon- 
ceived fancies,  and  stated  that  I  should  be  glad  to  be  put  to  any 
line  of  business  whatever.  No  sooner  had  this  been  concluded  on 


572  ROBERT    AND     WILLIAM    CHAMBERS. 

than  an  opening  seemed  to  cast  up  in  a  grocer's  shop  situated  in  the 
Tolbooth  Wynd,  Leith.  Unfortunately,  Leith  was  two  miles  distant, 
but  it  was  announced  that  the  grocer  munificently  imparted  board 
and  lodging  to  his  apprentices,  and  that,  in  present  circumstances, 
was  of  some  importance.  It  was  resolved  I  should  look  after  the 
place.  Accordingly,  I  one  day  went  off  to  Leith,  trudging  down 
from  Edinburgh  towards  the  Tolbooth  Wynd,  not  greatly  elated  with 
the  prospect  before  me,  but  determined  not  to  be  nice  in  accepting 
terms.  A  friend  of  the  family  resident  in  Leith,  was  to  introduce 
me. 

On  reaching  the  spot  with  him,  nearly  opposite  the  public  fountain, 
I  paused  a  moment  outside  to  reconnoiter  the  grocer's  premises,  be- 
fore proceeding.  The  windows  exhibited  quantities  of  raw  sugar  in 
different  varieties  of  brownness,  hovering  over  which  were  swarms 
of  flies  in  a  state  of  frantic  enjoyment.  Sticks  of  black  liquorice 
leaned  coaxingly  on  the  second  row  of  panes,  flanked  by  tall  glass 
jars  of  sweeties  and  peppermint  drops;  behind  these  outward  attrac- 
tions, there  were  observable  yellow-painted  barrels  of  whisky,  rows 
of  bottles  of  porter,  piles  of  cheeses  of  varied  complexions,  firkins  of 
salt  butter,  and  boxes  of  soap.  At  the  counter  were  a  number  of 
women  and  children  buying  articles,  such  as  quarter-ounces  of  tea 
and  ounces  of  sugar;  and  the  floor  was  battered  with  dirt  and  debris. 

I  was  not  much  pleased  with  the  look  of  the  place,  but  I  had  no 
choice.  Entering,  somewhat  timidly,  with  my  conductor,  I  was  de- 
scribed as  the  boy  who  had  been  recommended  as  an  apprentice, 
and  was  ushered  into  the  back  room  to  be  examined  as  to  my  capa- 
bilities. It  was  immediately  seen  that  I  was  physically  incompetent 
to  fill  the  situation.  The  chief  qualification  in  demand  was  muscular 
vigor.  The  boy  wanted  would  have  to  draw  a  truck  loaded  with 
several  hundredweights  of  goods,  to  be  delivered  to  customers,  it 
might  be  miles  distant.  Instead  of  an  apprentice,  it  was  in  reality  a 
horse  that  might  have  been  advertised  for,  or  at  the  least  an  able- 
bodied  porter.  I  was  at  once  pronounced  to  be  unfit  for  this  envi- 
able post ;  a  much  too  delicately  made  youth,  a  day's  work  with  the 
barrow  or  the  bottle-basket  would  finish  me.  I  had  better  abandon 
the  idea  of  being  a  grocer.  With  these  remarks  pronounced  for 
doom,  I  retired,  not  a  little  down -cast  at  the  unfortunate  issue  of 
the  expedition,  and  sorrowfully  returned  up  the  Walk  to  Edinburgh. 

MY   APPRENTICESHIP — 1814   TO    1819. 

How  little  are  we  able  to  penetrate  the  future!  The  journey  to 
Leith  was  not  thrown  away.  In  returning  homewards,  I  had  occa- 
sion to  pass  the  shop  of  Mr.  John  Sutherland,  bookseller,  Calton 
street,  an  establishment  opposite  the  Black  Bull  Hotel,  the  starting- 
place  of  the  mail-coaches  for  London.  In  the  window  was  the  an- 
nouncement, "An  Apprentice  Wanted."  Here  was  the  right  thing 


WILLIAM   A   BOOKSELLER'S   APPRENTICE.        573 

at  last.  I  did  not  lose  time  in  communicating  this  piece  of  intelli- 
gence. 

Having  in  the  first  place  narrated  the  failure  of  the  Leith  affair,  I 
proceeded  to  describe  the  discovery  I  had  "made  in  Calton  street. 
There  was  forthwith  a  family  cogitation  on  the  subject,  and  it  was  re- 
solved that  next  day  I  should  accompany  my  mother  on  a  tour  of  in- 
vestigation into  the  nature  of  the  place.  Next  morning,  accordingly, 
after  being  brushed  up  for  the  occasion,  I  set  out  for  Sutherland's.  Our 
reception  was  gratifyingly  polite.  The  bookseller  expressed  himself 
satisfied  with  my  appearance  and  the  extent  of  my  education.  He 
said  that  in  all  respects  I  should  be  perfectly  qualified  for  the  situa- 
tion. My  principal  duties  for  one  or  two  years  would  be  very  easy. 
I  would  only  have  to  light  the  fire,  take  off  and  put  on  the  shutters, 
clean  and  prepare  the  oil  lamps,  sweep  and  dust  the  shop,  and  go 
all  the  errands.  When  I  had  nothing  else  to  do,  I  was  to  stand  be- 
hind the  counter,  and  help  in  any  way  that  was  wanted ;  and  talking 
of  that,  it  would  be  quite  contrary  to  rule  for  me  ever  to  sit  down, 
or  to  put  off  time  reading. 

In  laying  down  the  law,  Sutherland  admitted  that  at  first  the  du- 
ties, though  no  way  burdensome,  might  not,  perhaps,  be  very  pleas- 
ant, but  the  routine  was  sanctioned  by  immemorial  usage.  Constable 
and  all  the  other  great  booksellers  had  begun  in  this  way.  Every 
one  who  aspired  to  take  a  front  rank  in  the  profession  must  begin  by 
being  a  junior  apprentice.  The  period  of  service  was  five  years  at 
four  shillings  a  week ;  not  high  pay,  to  be  sure,  but  it  was  according 
to  universal  rule,  from  which  he  could  see  no  departure. J 

My  mother,  who  conducted  the  negotiation,  found  no  fault  with  the 
proposed  duties  and  terms;  still  she  had  her  misgivings,  and  ventured 
to  remark  that  her  son  was  surely  wrong  in  wishing  to  follow  the  busi- 
ness. "We  may  manage,"  she  said  "  to  get  him  through  his  appren- 
ticeship, but  I  have  serious  fears  of  what  is  to  follow.  We  can  not 
set  him  up  in  business,  and  how"  (looking  around)  "can  he  ever  be 
able  to  get  a  stock  of  books  like  that?" 

The  bookseller  endeavored  to  allay  her  apprehensions,  and  his  re- 
marks are  worth  repeating:  "There  is  no  fear  of  any  one  getting 
forward  in  the  world,  if  he  be  only  steady,  obliging,  attentive  to  his 
duties,  and  exercise  a  reasonable  degree  of  patience.  I  can  assure 
you,  when  I  was  the  age  of  your  son,  I  had  as  poor  prospects  as  any 
one;  yet  I  have  so  far  got  on  tolerably  well.  In  the  outset  of  life  it 
is  needless  to  look  too  far  in  advance.  We  must  just  do  the  best 
we  can  in  the  mean  time,  and  hope  that  all  will  turn  out  rightly  in 
the  end."  These  sensible  observations  left  nothing  further  to  be  said. 
The  bargain  was  struck.  I  was  to  come  next  Monday  morning  to  be 
initiated  by  an  elder  apprentice.  And  so,  on  the  8th  of  May,  1814, 
I  was  launched  into  the  business  world. 

About  a  year  and  a  half  after  this  event,  the  family  quitted  Edin- 
burgh. My  father  was  appointed  commercial  manager  of  a  salt  man- 


574  ROBERT    AND     WILLIAM     CHAMBERS. 

ufactory,  called  Joppa  Pans,  a  smoky  odorous  place,  consisting  of  a 
group  of  sooty  buildings,  situated  on  the  sea-shore  half-way  between 
Portobello  and  Musselburgh ;  and  thither,  to  a  small  dwelling  amidst 
the  steaming  salt-pans,  they  all  removed  except  myself.  Robert,  who 
had  now  come  from  Peebles,  and  been  for  some  time  at  an  academy 
in  Edinburgh,  accompanied  them,  the  arrangement  being  that  he 
should  walk  to  and  from  town  daily.  I  was  left  to  pursue  my  business, 
being  for  this  purpose  consigned  to  a  lodging  that  may  merit  some 
notice. 

Until  this  disruption,  I  had  no  occasion  to  rely  on  myself.  Now 
matters  were  changed.  I  was  to  have  an  opportunity  of  learning 
practically  how  far  my  weekly  earnings  would  go  in  defraying  the  cost 
of  board  and  lodging.  In  short,  at  little  above  fourteen  years  of  age, 
I  was  thrown  on  my  own  resources.  From  necessity,  not  less  than 
from  choice,  I  resolved  at  all  hazards  to  make  the  weekly  four  shil- 
lings serve  for  every  thing.  I  can  not  remember  entertaining  the 
slightest  despondency  on  the  subject.  As  with  other  lads  of  my  age, 
I  had  something1  to  interest  me  in  the  circumstances  attending  the 
close  of  the  war,  and  the  excitement  which  followed  on  various  mat- 
ters of  public  concern. 

As  favorable  for  carrying  out  my  aims  at  an  independent  style  of 
living,  I  had  the  good  fortune  to  be  installed  in  the  dwelling  of  a 
remarkably  precise  and  honest  widow,  a  Peebles  woman,  who,  with 
two  grown-up  sons,  occupied  the  top  story  of  a  building  in  the  West 
Port.  My  landlady  had  the  reputation  of  being  excessively  parsimo- 
nious, but  as  her  honesty  was  of  importance  to  one  in  my  position, 
and  as  she  consented  to  let  me  have  a  bed,  cook  for  me,  and  allow 
me  to  sit  by  her  fireside  —  the  fire,  by  the  way,  not  being  much  to 
speak  of — for  the  reasonable  charge  of  eighteen  pence  a  week,  I  was 
thought  to  be  lucky  in  finding  her  disposed  to  receive  me  within  her 
establishment.  To  her  dwelling,  therefore,  I  repaired  with  my  all, 
consisting  of  a  few  articles  of  clothing  and  two  or  three  books,  in- 
cluding a  pocket  Bible — the  whole  contained  in  a  small  blue-painted 
box,  which  I  carried  on  my  shoulder  along  the  Grassmarket. 

This  abode,  the  uppermost  floor  in  Boak's  Land,  was  more  ele- 
vated than  airy.  The  back  of  the  tall  edifice  overhung  a  tannery 
and  a  wild  confusion  of  mean  inclosures,  with  an  outlook  beyond  to 
the  castle,  perched  on  its  dark,  precipitous  rock.  The  thoroughfare 
in  front  was  then,  as  it  is  still,  one  of  the  most  crowded  and  wretched 
in  the  city.  The  apartment  assigned  to  me  was  a  bed-closet,  with  a 
narrow  window  fronting  the  street.  Yet  this  den  was  not  all  my 
own.  For  a  time,  it  was  shared  with  a  student  of  divinity,  a  youth 
of  my  own  age  from  the  hills  of  Tweeddale ;  and  afterwards  with  my 
brother  Robert,  when  it  was  found  inexpedient  for  him  to  live  in 
the  country,  and  go  to  and  from  town  daily. 

Being  all  of  us  from  Peeblesshire,  there  was  much  to  speak  of  in 
common,  though  with  no  great  cordiality  of  intercourse.  In  the 


YOUTHFUL     ASSOCIATIONS.  575 

evenings,  when  mason  and  carpenter  lads  dropped  in,  the  conversa- 
tion turned  chiefly  on  sermons.  Each  visitor  brought  with  him  expe- 
riences as  to  how  texts  had  been  handled  on  the  preceding  Sunday ; 
on  which  there  ensued  discussions  singularly  characteristic  of  a  well- 
known  phase  in  the  Scotch  mind.  , 

"Weel,  Tammie,"  inquired  the  widow  one  evening  of  Tammie 
Tod,  a  journeyman  mason  lately  arrived  from  the  country,  "what  was 
the  doctor  on  last  afternoon?" 

"  He  was  on  the  Song," — meaning  the  Song  of  Solomon. 

"Ah,  the  Song  !  that  would  be  grand.  He's  a  wonderfu'  man  the 
doctor;  and  what  was  his  text?" 

"It  was  a  real  fine  text,"  said  Tammie,  "the  deepest  ever  I  heard: 
'  For  my  head  is  filled  with  dew,  and  my  locks  with  the  drops  of  the 
night;'  fifth  chapter,  second  verse,  the  second  clause  of  the  verse." 

"I  ken  that  text  weel,"  responded  the  widow.  "I  heard  a  capi- 
tal discourse  on  it  thirty  years  syne;  but  how  did  the  doctor  lay  it 
out?" 

"He  divided  it  into  five  heads,  ending  with  an  application,  which 
it  would  be  weel  for  us  a'  to  tak'  to  heart." 

And  so  Tammie,  who  had  a  proficiency  in  dissecting  and  criticis- 
ing sermons,  proceeded  to  describe  with  logical  precision  the  manner 
in  whic.li  his  minister  had  handled  the  very  intricate  subject;  his 
definitions  being  listened  to  and  commented  on  with  extraordinary 
relish. 

Let  no  one  hastily  conclude  that  there  was  any  thing  to  ridicule  in 
these  searching,  though  perhaps  too  speculative  and  familiar  disquisi- 
tions ;  for  apart  from  any  religious  consideration,  they  bore  evidence 
of  that  spirit  of  inquiry  and  love  'of  reasoning  on  momentous  topics 
which  may  be  said  to  have  made  Scotland  what  it  is.  I  may  not 
have  been  the  better,  but  was  by  no  means  the  worse,  for  hearing 
Tammie  Tod's  sermon  experiences  in  that  little  upper  floor  in  the 
West  Port,  and  have  often  compared  what  there  came  under  my  ob- 
servation with  the  unideaed  sotting  and  want  of  all  mental  culture 
which  unhappily  mark  certain  departments  of  the  population  in  dif- 
ferent parts  of  the  United  Kingdom. 

On  market-days,  my  landlady  was  usually  visited  about  dinner-time 
by  some  horny-fisted  old  acquaintance  from  about  Leithen  or  Gala 
Water,  with  a  shepherd's  plaid  around  his  shoulders ;  and  who, 
after  being  treated  to  a  share  of  the  bannocks  and  kail,  would  finish 
off  with  a  blast  on  the  widow's  tobacco-pipe ;  for,  with  all  her  saving 
habits,  our  worthy  hostess  indulged — moderately,  I  must  say — in  this 
luxury.  The  conversation  of  these  worthies  ran  still  on  controversial 
divinity.  They  talked  of  the  "  Hind  Let  Loose,"  Boston's  "  Mar- 
row," the  "  Crook  in  the  Lot,"  and  the  "  Fourfold  State," — standard 
topics  among  the  class  to  which  they  belonged  ;  and  if  I  did  not 
quite  apprehend  or  was  not  improved  by  the  discussions,  they  at  least 
afforded  an  amusing  study  of  character. 


576  ROBERT      AND     WILLIAM      CHAMBERS. 

The  charge  made  for  my  accommodation  in  these  quarters  left  some 
scope  for  financiering  as  regards  the  remaining  part  of  my  wages.  It 
was  a  keen  struggle,  but,  like  Franklin,  whose  autobiography  I  had 
read  with  avidity,  I  faced  it  with  all  proper  resolution.  My  contriv- 
ances to  make  both  ends  meet  were  not  without  a  degree  of  drollery. 
As  a  final  achievement  in  the  art  of  cheap  living,  I  was  able  to  make 
an  outlay  of  a  shilling  and  ninepence  suffice  for  the  week.  Below 
that  I  could  not  well  go.  Reaching  this  point,  I  had  ninepence  over 
for  miscellaneous  demands,  chiefly  in  the  department  of  shoes,  which 
constituted  an  awkwardly  heavy  item.  On  no  occasion  did  I  look  to 
parents  for  the  slightest  pecuniary  subsidy. 

Was  there  none,  all  this  time,  to  lend  a  helping-hand  to  the  strug- 
gling bookseller's  apprentice?  I  did  not  put  any  one  to  the  test. 
My  mother  had  some  relations  in  town  moving  in  respectable  circles; 
but  they  were  connected  with  the  worthless  personage  whose  conduct 
had  insured  my  father's  ruin  ;  and,  passing  over  any  unpleasant  rec- 
ollections on  this  score  I  felt  disinclined  to  court  their  intimacy. 
Admitting  that  I  may  in  this  respect  have  acted  with  unreasonable 
shyness,  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  the  policy  of  keeping  aloof  was 
the  most  advantageous  in  the  end.  Isolation  was  equivalent  to  in- 
dependence of  thought  and  action.  Contact  with  the  relatives  I 
speak  of  would  have  been  subjection. 

High  principle,  however,  hardly  entered  into  my  calculations. 
Pursuing  my  course  from  a  resolute  feeling  of  self-reliance,  I  just  went 
on  without  troubling  myself  about  any  body,  trusting  that  things  some- 
how would  come  right  in  the  long-run.  I  should  say  from  my  own 
observation  that  young  persons  often  chafe  unnecessarily  at  being 
neglected  by  those  whom  they  imagine  should  take  notice  of  them. 
On  the  contrary,  as  a  general  rule,  they  ought  to  be  thankful  for 
being  let  alone,  with  a  clear  stage  whereon  they  can  act  their  part, 
alike  unincumbered  with  advice  or  disheartened  by  adverse  criticism. 
To  be  always  pining  to  be  noticed,  brought  forward,  taken  by  the 
hand,  and  done  for,  is  any  thing  but  wise  or  manly.  There  are, 
doubtless,  instances  where  the  deserving  are  entitled  to  such  assistance 
as  can  be  safely  or  conveniently  extended  towards  them.  But  in  too 
many  cases  the  visionary  expectation  of  aid  paralyzes  exertion,  and 
consumes  valuable  time  that  might  very  properly  be  devoted  to  indi- 
vidual effort.  At  any  rate,  I  do  not  doubt  that  I  should  have  suf- 
fered injury  at  this  critical  period,  by  getting  entangled  with  fine 
people,  invited  to  fine  houses,  and  led  to  mix  in  fine  evening  parties. 
Proceedings  of  that  seductive  kind  would  have  been  distinctly  at 
variance  with  my  condition.  What  was  I  but  one  of  a  thousand 
nameless  lads,  whom  in  passing  no  one  knew  or  cared  for?  Shrouded 
by  insignificance,  I  could  fortunately,  like  others  in  a  similar  situation, 
work  my  way  on  in  silence  and  obscurity,  without  any  provocation 
to  false  shame,  which  almost  more  than  any  thing  else  is  the  stumb- 
ling-block of  youth.  The  very  circumstance  of  my  having  come  from 


AN    ERRAND    BOY'S    LABOR.  577 

the  country,  and  of  being  little  known  to  young  men  of  my  own 
standing,  was  a  point  in  my  favor. 

It  nevertheless,  I  own,  required  some  fortitude  to  bear  up  against 
the  hardships  incidental  to  my  situation  as  a  junior  apprentice,  liter- 
ally the  slave  of  the  lamp,  and  the  drudge  of  the  establishment. 
Though  not  beaten  and  dragooned  as  I  had  been  at  school,  it  was  my 
destiny  to  experience  no  very  gentle  treatment.  My  employer,  a 
stern  disciplinarian,  took  the  work  out  of  his  apprentices.  He  seemed 
to  have  no  regard  for  the  number  of  miles  he  caused  them  to  walk 
in  a  day  in  the  way  of  business.  In  addition  to  his  trade  as  a  book- 
seller, he  kept  a  circulating  library,  and  also  acted  as  an  agent  for 
the  State  Lottery.  Independently,  therefore,  of  a  multitude  of  errands 
with  parcels  of  books  and  stationery,  I  was  charged  with  the  delivery 
of  vast  quantities  of  circular  letters  eulogizing  the  successive  lotteries, 
which,  in  reason,  ought  to  have  been  dispatched  through  the  post- 
office.  Frequently  I  was  sent  on  my  travels  with  as  many  as  three 
hundred  letters,  sorted  and  tied  in  bundles  in  the  manner  of  a  postman ; 
and  as  my  circuit  took  me  up  dozens  of  long  stairs  over  miles  of 
thoroughfares,  I  had  an  opportunity  of  acquiring  a  knowledge  of  the 
town  and  the  names  of  its  inhabitants. 

In  all  this  I  was  mercilessly  overtasked,  and  can  never  cease  to 
think  so.  But  there  was  something  likewise  to  be  thankful  for. 
Sutherland  enforced  habits  of  punctuality  and  order,  which  happily 
stuck  to  me  through  life,  along  with  a  due  appreciation  of  such  mor- 
sels of  time  as  can  be  spared  from  ordinary  pursuits.  My  apprentice- 
ship, like  that  of  many  others,  was  my  drill,  harsh,  no  doubt,  but  it 
is  difficult  to  see  how,  without  some  kind  of  vigorous  training,  youth 
is  to  grow  into  manhood  with  a  proper  conception  of  a  number  of 
commonplace  but  important  obligations.  Certainly,  old  injunctions 
say  as  much. 

My  heaviest  grievance  was  the  delivery  of  those  odious  piles  of 
lottery  circulars,  a  species  of  labor  that  in  no  shape  advanced  my 
professional  knowledge.  To  what  hand,  however,  could  I  turn  to  rid 
myself  of  this  slavery  ?  The  choice  lay  between  suffering  and  ruin. 
It  was  my  safest  course  to  submit.  Over  the  doorway  of  an  old 
house  in  West  Bow,  which  I  passed  several  times  daily,  was  the  in- 
scription, carved  in  stone, 

"HE  THAT  THOLES   OVERCOMES." 

I  made  up  my  mind  to  thole, — a  pithy  old  Scottish  word  signifying 
to  bear  with  patience  ;  the  whole  inscription  reminding  us  of  a  st-nti- 
ment  in  Virgil :  "  Whatever  may  happen,  every  kind  of  fortune  is  to 
be  overcome  by  bearing  it."* 

After  all,  the  drudgery  I  had  in  connection  with  the  lotteries  is  not 
utterly  to  be  condemned.  It  afforded  an  amusing  insight  into  the 

*  "  Quidquid  crit,  supcranda  omnis  fortuna  fcrendo  est." — &ncidt  v. 
37 


578  ROBERT    AND     WILLIAM     CHAMBERS. 

weakness  of  human  nature.  I  could  scarcely  have  learned  what  I  did 
by  sitting  with  composure  in  the  lap  of  ease  and  luxury.  As  regards 
the  state  lottery,  it  is  interesting  for  me  to  remember  that  I  was  once 
a  humble  minister  in  that  gigantic  national  concern.  And  what  a 
queer,  struggling,  whimsical  set  of  people  came  under  notice  !  Some 
would  buy  only  odd  numbers  of  five  figures,  such  as  17,359  >  some 
eagerly  sought  for  numbers  which  they  had  dreamt  of  being  prizes, 
and  would  have  no  other;  some  brought  children  to  select  a  number 
from  the  quantity  offered, — a  degree  of  weakness  which  was  outdone 
by  those  who  superstitiously  brought  the  seventh  son  of  a  seventh  son 
to  make  the  selection  for  them ;  some,  more  whimsical  still,  would 
only  purchase  at  the  last  moment  what  every  body  else  had  rejected. 
Few  were  so  extravagant  as  to  buy  whole  tickets,  or  even  halves, 
quarters,  or  eighths.  The  great  majority  contented  themselves  with 
a  sixteenth,  the  price  of  which  was  usually  about  a  guinea  and  a  half; 
and  as  the  fortunate  holder  of  the  sixteenth  of  a  twenty-thousand- 
pound  prize  would  realize  above  twelve  hundred  pounds,  the  tempta- 
tion to  this  species  of  gambling  was  enormous. 

It  would  be  an  error  to  imagine  that  the  dispersion  of  those  myriads 
of  lottery  circulars  in  the  obscurest  quarters  had  no  practical  efficacy. 
The  chief  buyers  of  sixteenths  were  persons  connected  with  the  mar- 
kets, hackney-jcoachmen,  waiters  at  hotels,  female  housekeepers,  small 
tradesmen,  and  those  of  limited  means  generally,  who  hoped  to  be- 
come rich  by  a  happy  turn  of  the  wheel.  Inmates  of  the  Sanctuary 
of  Holyrood  and  the  debtors'  prisons  were  numbered  among  the 
steady  customers  of  the  state  lottery.  Both,  therefore,  as  a  messenger 
with  lottery  intelligence,  and  as  an  errand-boy  with  parcels  of  books, 
I  had  frequent  occasion  to  visit  and  become  less  or  more  acquainted 
with  these  places. 

The  Sanctuary,  which  embraced  a  cluster  of  decayed  buildings  in 
front  and  on  both  sides  of  Holyrood  Palace,  was  at  that  time  more  re- 
sorted to  by  refugee  debtors  than  it  is  in  this  improved  age.  It  was 
seldom  without  distinguished  characters  from  England ;  some  of  them 
gaunt,  oldish  gentlemen,  seemingly  broken  dpwn  men  of  fashion, 
wearing  big  gold  spectacles,  who  now  drew  out  existence  here  in  de- 
fiance of  creditors.  To  this  august  class  of  persons,  who  stood  in 
need  of  supplies  of  books  from  the  circulating  library,  I  paid  frequent 
visits ;  and  conscious,  perhaps,  that  they  gave  me  some  extra  trouble, 
they  were  so  considerate  as  to  present  me  with  an  occasional  sixpence, 
which  I  could  not  politely  refuse. 

Customers  in  the  Canongate  jail,  and  in  the  old  Tolbooth,  re- 
nowned as  the  "Heart  of  Mid -Lothian,"  were  less  munificent,  but 
considerably  more  hearty  in  their  intercourse.  The  greater  number 
of  them  were  third-rate  shop-keepers,  who,  after  struggling  for  years 
against  debts,  rents,  and  taxes,  had  finally  succumbed  to  the  sheriff- 
orficer,  and  been  drifted  to  a  safe  anchorage,  which  they  did  not  seem 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  TOLBOOTH.          579 

to  think  particularly  unpleasant.  The  law  had  done  its  worst  upon 
them,  and  for  a  time  they  were  at  rest. 

The  chief  of  these  prisons,  the  Old  Tolbooth,  was  a  tall,  black 
building  in  the  High  street,  noted  in  the  national  annals :  That  Tol- 
booth on  the  lofty  pinnacle  of  which  was  ignominiously  stuck  the 
head  of  the  gallant  Marquis  of  Montrose,  in  1650,  and  whence,  after 
bleaching  for  ten  years,  it  was  taken  down  and  replaced  by  the  head 
of  the  Marquis  of  Argyll ;  that  Tolbooth  which  Byron  has  referred 
to  with  unjustifiable  bitterness  in  his  "  English  Bards  and  Scotch  Re- 
viewers,"— 

"  Arthur's  steep  summit  nodded  to  its  base, 

The  surly  Tolbooth  scarcely  kept  her  place. 

The  Tolbooth  felt — for  marble  sometimes  can, 

On  such  occasions,  full  as  much  as  man, 

The  Tolbooth  felt  defrauded  of  her  charms, 

If  Jeffrey  died  except  within  her  arms." 

After  undergoing  various  mutations,  this  gloomy  structure  now 
served  the  double  purpose  of  a  jail  for  debtors  and  criminals.  The 
two  departments  were  quite  distinct,  the  apartments  for  criminals 
being  in  the  east  end,  and  those  for  debtors  being  in  the  west.  But 
all  entered  by  the  same  door,  that  portal  where  the  rioters  of  the 
Porteous  Mob  thundered  in  1736.  This  doorway,  situated  at  the 
foot  of  the  south-eastern  turret,  was  opened  by  a  turnkey  who  was 
seated  outside,  or  in  a  small  adjoining  vault  on  the  ground-floor  of 
the  building.  Level  with  it,  facing  the  north,  and  occupying  the  re- 
mainder of  the  street-floor,  was  the  office  of  the  Town-guard,  who 
were  ready  at  hand  in  case  of  any  emergency.  Having  gained  an 
access  by  the  outer  portal  of  the  Tolbooth,  you  ascended  a  flight  of 
about  twenty  steps  to  an  inner  door,  which  was  opened  on  the  ring- 
ing of  a  bell  by  the  outer  turnkey.  You  were  now  in  the  Hall,  a 
spacious  apartment,  with  a  sanded  stone  floor,  and  seats  along  the 
sides.  It  was  well  lighted  by  a  large  stanchioned  window  facing  the 
south.  Fixed  on  the  wall  nearly  opposite  the  doorway,  there  was  a 
black-board,  on  which  was  painted  the  following  admonitory  inscrip- 
tion, that  is  said  to  have  been  originally  and  specially  designed  for 
the  King's  Bench  Prison: 

"  A  prison  is  a  house  of  care, 

A  place  where  none  can  thrive; 
A  touchstone  true  to  try  a  friend, 

A  grave  for  men  alive: — 
Sometimes  a  house  of  right, 

Sometimes  a  house  of  wrong, 
Sometimes  a  place  for  jades  and  thieves, 

And  honest  men  among." 

The  hall  was  a  common  vestibule,  whence  an  entrance  was  gained 
to  the  two  departments.  While  the  criminals  were  confined  to  their 
rooms  in  the  East  End,  the  prisoners  under  civil  process,  who  were 


580  ROBERT    AND     WILLIAM     CHAMBERS. 

lodged  in  the  West  End,  moved  about  at  pleasure  during  the  day 
from  the  hall  to  the  several  apartments  on  two  upper  stories ;  and 
accordingly,  for  them  there  was  almost  the  freedom  of  a  lodging- 
house.  The  place  of  public  execution  was  the  flat  roof  of  a  low 
building  attached  to  the  western  gable,  and,  to  reach  it,  convicts 
were  conducted  across  the  hall. 

My  knowledge  of  this  strange  old  jail  needs  a  word  of  explana- 
tion. Among  the  debtors  whom  I  visited  in  the  way  of  business, 
there  was  one,  a  young  man,  who  had  been  previously  known  to  our 
family.  Having  failed  in  business  under  circumstances  which  led  to 
an  unusually  long  imprisonment,  I  frequently  saw  him,  and  was  able 
to  learn  numerous  particulars  concerning  the  West-Enders  and  their 
ways  of  living,  which  would  otherwise  have  been  beyond  my  reach. 
As  the  Tolbooth  was  removed  in  1817,  it  was  my  fortune  to  be  its 
visitor  during  the  last  three  years  of  its  existence,  and  to  become 
familiarized  with  a  condition  of  things  of  which  there  is  now  no  parallel. 
My  experiences  of  Tolbooth  life  were  in  the  days  of  free-and-easy 
prison  arrangements.  As  yet,  neither  county  prison-  boards  nor  prison 
inspectors  had  been  heard  of.  The  magistrates  and  council  under- 
took the  responsibility  of  cost  and  management,  also  appointed  the 
officials,  the  chief  of  whom,  honored  with  the  designation  of  captain, 
was  ordinarily  some  old  citizen  who  stood  well  with  the  corporation. 
There  was  a  simplicity  about  the  whole  system  which  is  now  difficult 
to  be  realized  by  any  description.  So  far  as  the  debtors  were  con- 
cerned, the  prison  was  little  else  than  a  union  of  lodging-house  and 
tavern,  under  lock  and  key.  Acquaintances  might  call  as  often  and 
stay  as  long  as  they  pleased.  The  inmates  and  their  visitors,  if  they 
felt  inclined,  could  treat  themselves  to  refreshments  in  a  cozy  little 
apartment,  half-tavern,  half-kitchen,  superintended  by  a  portly  female, 
styled  Lucky  Laing,  whence  issued  pretty  frequently  the  pleasant 
sounds  of  broiling  beefsteaks,  and  the  drawings  of  corks  from  bottles 
of  ale  and  porter. 

Much  of  the  cordiality  that  prevailed  was  due  to  the  governor, 
Captain  Sibbald,  a  benevolently  disposed  little  man,  with  a  merry 
twinkle  in  his  eyes,  dressed  in  a  sober  pepper-and-salt  colored  suit. 
1  heard  no  end  of  his  acts  of  kindness  to  debtors  as  well  as  crim- 
inals, or  of  putting  poor  youths  in  the  way  of  well-doing  who  had 
passed  through  his  hands.  Although  his  salary  was  no  more  than  a 
hundred  and  fifty  pounds  a  year,  he  was  known  to  take  on  himself 
the  obligation  of  guaranteeing  the  payment  of  a  debt,  rather  than 
retain  in  custody  a  poor  man  with  a  large  family,  brought  to  him  for 
imprisonment.  In  the  East  End,  he  had  almost  constantly  a  male 
or  female  convict  under  sentence  of  death ;  and  though  not  able  to 
mitigate  their  unhappy  doom,  he  always  endeavored  to  assuage  their 
present  sufferings.  Until  his  time,  they  had  been  literally  fed  on 
bread  and  water,  during  the  six  weeks  that  elapsed  between  sentence 
and  execution.  He  generously  broke  through  this  harsh  rule,  not  a 


•  STORIES     OF     TOLBOOTH     INMATES.  581 

little  to  the  dissatisfaction  of  the  Lord  Advocate  of  the  day  ;  but  in 
the  contest  his  humanity  prevailed,  and  the  rule  was  ever  after  prac- 
tically relaxed.  I  heard  it  approvingly  said  of  him,  that  at  his  own 
expense  he  procured  a  dentist  to  draw  a  tooth  which  so  tortured  a 
convict  that  he  could  not  sleep;  it  was  further  reported  that  he 
always  saw  that  the  men  were  comfortably  shaved  on  the  morning  of 
the  day  they  were  to  be  hanged,  and  that  he  uniformly  pressed  a  glass 
of  wine  on  the  women  on  their  being  conducted  through  the  hall 
to  execution.  Such  was  the  gossip  of  the  prison. 

One  of  the  strange  things  told  of  the  Tolbooth  is,  that  on  various 
occasions  it  gave  a  secure  retreat  to  persons  who  fled  from  justice. 
A  gentleman  alleged  to  have  been  concerned  in  the  Rye-House  Plot, 
in  the  reign  of  Charles  II,  and  of  whom  the  civil  authorities  were  in 
search,  received  protection  from  a  friend  in  the  Tolbooth,  where  no 
one  thought  of  looking  for  him  ;  and  whence  he  eventually  escaped 
to  the  continent.  In  1 746,  there  was  a  similar  case  of  protection  to 
a  gentleman  who  was  sought  after  ineffectually,  for  his  concern  in 
the  Rebellion. 

I  can  realize  the  truth  of  these  traditions,  by  having  found  a  volun- 
tary resident  in  the  Tolbooth,  who  was  not  recognized  as  a  prisoner, 
or  as  being  there  at  all.  This  was  a  gifted  but  erratic  genius,  known 
by  his  familiar  Christian  name,  Davie,  who,  after  suffering  a  variety 
of  disasters,  received  sympathy  and  succor  among  his  friends  in  the 
West  End.  Of  course,  for  this  indulgence,  he  was  indebted  to  the 
good-hearted  governor,  who,  like  his  predecessors,  did  not  find  it  to 
be  consistent  with  his  duty  to  be  too  particular.  In  making  his  last 
round  at  night,  and  ascending  the  spiral  staircase,  which  was  pro- 
vided with  a  rope  that  performed  the  part  of  a  hand-rail,  he  would 
considerately,  as  if  by  accident,  jingle  the  bunch  of  well-worn  keys, 
by  way  of  announcing  his  approach.  In  casting  a  look  around  the 
apartment  to  see  that  all  strangers  were  gone,  and  saying,  "  Good- 
night, gentlemen,"  he  might  have  known,  had  he  cared  to  know, 
that  one  of  the  inmates  shared  his  bed  with  Davie,  who  was  at  that 
very  moment — thanks  to  the  jingle  of  the  keys — ensconced  upright 
in  a  tight-fitting  wall-press  at  the  corner  of  the  apartment. 

I  had  often  occasion  to  meet  and  interchange  courtesies  with  Davie, 
who  was  an  essential  adjunct  of  the  prison  fraternity.  Having  lost 
means,  character,  and  friends,  in  the  outer  world,  he  was  duly  quali- 
fied by  his  obliging  manners,  his  accomplishments,  and  his  poverty, 
to  be  an  acceptable  guest  of  the  West-Enders.  The  Tolbooth  was 
his  home  by  choice.  He  lived  in  it  for  years,  seeing  out  successive 
groups  of  debtors,  but  always  as  much  esteemed  by  the  new-comers 
as  by  the  older  residents.  How  they  could  have  done  without  him, 
it  is  painful  to  consider.  He  was  a  general  factotum,  went  out  anil 
made  purchases  for  them,  carried  messages  to  law-agents,  posted  let- 
ters, and,  on  great  occasions,  ordered  in  dinners  from  Mrs.  Ferguson's, 
a  noted  tavern  in  the  neighborhood.  His  jocularities,  his  singing,  and 


582  ROBERT     AND     WILLIAM     CHAMBERS. 

his  ability  to  take  a  hand  at  whist,  were  of  course  recommendations  of  a 
high  order.  There  were  other  reasons  for  thinking  well  of  Davie.  He 
was  modest  as  regards  his  own  wants.  Debtors  of  the  better  class,  on 
quitting  the  prison,  would  make  him  a  present  of  a  few  articles  of 
dress,  and  perhaps  kindly  leave  half-a-crown  in  one  of  the  pockets. 
Davie  could  not  be  said  to  have  any  regular  meals.  He  lived  princi- 
pally on  odd  crusts  of  bread,  pieces  of  biscuits,  drams,  and  drops  of 
ale  or  porter.  Talking  of  drams,  it  was  against  rule  to  introduce 
spirits  into  the  prison,  but,  through  the  agency  of  Davie,  there  never 
was  any  particular  scarcity  of  the  article.  As  a  scout  serviceable  in 
this  as  in  other  things,  he  stood  well  with  Peter,  the  keeper  of  the 
door  in  the  hall,  rather  a  good-humored  Cerberus.  Peter  was  blind 
of  an  eye,  which  some  might  think  an  advantage;  he  wore  a  woolen 
cap  on  his  bald  head,  and  always  walked  softly  about  the  sanded 
stone  floor  in  carpet-shoes. 

The  West  End  was  two  rooms  in  breadth,  one  entering  from  the 
other.  The  windows  in  these  apartments  looked  only  south  and  north, 
but  the  inmates  had  a  device  for  extending  the  prospect  in  other 
directions.  They  had  only  to  hold  out  a  mirror  beyond  the  stanch- 
ions to  catch  a  glimpse  of  who  was  at  the  portal  near  the  north-west 
corner  of  St.  Giles,  or  of  what  was  going  on  in  the  street.  By  means 
of  this  kind,  they  were  able  to  see  the  remnant  of  the  42d  regiment 
as  it  marched  towards  the  castle  on  its  return  from  Waterloo.  The 
method  of  looking  directly  westward  up  the  Lawnmarket  was  still 
more  ingenious.  In  the  gable  of  the  building  there  was  a  hole  or  slit 
into  which  the  beam  of  the  gallows  was  inserted  for  public  executions. 
So  intruded,  the  beam  projected  about  two  feet  into  one  of  the 
debtors'  apartments,  where  it  made  its  appearance  near  the  foot  of 
the  bed  in  which  Davie  participated.  I  remember  paying  a  visit  to 
the  prison  on  the  day  after  an  execution,  while  it  was  still  a  subject 
of  conversation.  Confined  to  their  rooms  during  the  tragical  cere- 
mony, one  of  the  debtors,  along  with  Davie,  I  was  told,  had  jocularly 
seated  themselves  on  the  inner  end  of  the  beam  at  the  time  the 
miserable  culprit  was  in  the  course  of  being  suspended  from  the  other. 
The  hole  in  the  gable  was  already  closed,  but  as  executions,  accord- 
ing to  the  heartless  policy  of  the  period,  were  then  frequent,  the 
building  was  performed  in  a  superficial  way.  In  the  center  of  the 
masonry,  a  cork  was  introduced  by  particular  request,  and  this  being 
pulled  out  at  pleasure,  a  view  was  obtained  in  the  required  direction, 
a  convenience  this  of  no  small  consequence  to  the  West-Enders, 
which  the  obliging  governor  of  the  establishment  did  not  notice  or 
call  in  question. 

Besides  Davie,  who  became  a  naturalized  inhabitant  of  the  Tol- 
booth,  there  were  other  hangers-on  in  whose  society  the  inmates 
found  a  degree  of  solace.  For  the  greater  part,  the  debtors  were  at- 
tempting to  carry  through  the  legal  process  of  liberation  known  as 
the  cessio,  and  accordingly  required  the  assistance  of  law-practitioners. 


TOLBOOTH    ATTORNEYS    AND     PHYSICIANS.          583 

Professional  aid  in  these  and  other  matters  was  usually  rendered  by 
a  class  of  persons  who  it  would  be  hazardous  to  say  were  on  the  roll 
of  authorized  attorneys.  A  kind  of  supernumeraries  in  the  profession, 
and  with  a  knowledge  of  forms,  they  hung  about  the  prisons  for  jobs; 
modestly,  as  it  were,  keeping  on  the  outskirts  of  society,  in  order  to 
gather  up  the  defiled  crumbs  which  the  notabilities  of  the  law  dis- 
dained to  recognize.  For  the  services  which  they  rendered  to  the 
poorer  order  of  clients,  it  is  not  clear  that  payment  was  made  in  coin. 
Seemingly,  they  had  the  run  of  the  prison.  When  half-a-mutchkin 
was  smuggled  in  through  Davie's  valuable  assistance,  they  came  in 
for  a  tasting,  and  at  various  hours  of  the  day,  not  being  particular  as 
to  time  of  luncheon,  they  held  deeply  interesting  conferences  in 
Lucky  Laing's  tavern  over  smoking  dishes  of  steaks  and  creaming 
tumblers  of  porter.  Talking  plentifully  between  mouthfuls,  and 
winking  knowingly  with  one  eye,  they  held  out  such  sanguine  hopes 
of  getting  things  carried  through  cheaply — no  expense  to  speak  of  but 
the  office  fees — as  could  not  fail  to  raise  the  drooping  spirits  of  the 
poor  wives  who  came  to  hold  council  with  their  imprisoned  husbands. 

The  law  agents  of  this  stamp  who  frequented  the  West  End  had 
for  coadjutor  a  medical  practitioner,  not  less  necessary  than  them- 
selves in  carrying  on  operations.  I  am  not  aware  that  in  the  present 
day  the  doctor  who  haunted  the  Tolbooth  has  any  distinct  representa- 
tive. He  had  at  one  time  occupied  a  respectable  position  as  a  med- 
ical practitioner,  but  now,  broken  down  by  intemperance,  he  confined 
his  professional  services  to  the  inmates  of  the  West  End,  to  whom 
he  made  himself  presentable  by  blacking  the  white  edges  of  his  but- 
ton-molds with  ink,  and  keeping  a  band  of  faded  crape  on  his  hat, 
as  if  always  in  deep  mourning.  It  was  fortunate  for  the  doctor  that 
the  law  had  considerately  instituted  the  cessio.  He  lived  upon  it. 
Without  it  there  was  no  visible  refuge  but  the  work-house.  His  func- 
tion consisted  in  granting  sick  certificates ;  fee,  five  shillings,  with  a 
dram,  as  a  matter  of  course,  and  a  biscuit  to  give  the  refection  an  air 
of  respectability.  In  virtue  of  a  certificate  of  this  nature,  fortified 
by  a  warrant  from  the  court,  the  ailing  debtor  was  allowed  to  go 
home  to  his  sorrowing  family,  and  his  prescribed  thirty  days'  impris- 
onment became  a  sort  of  legal  fiction.  At  all  events,  the  law  was 
satisfied,  which  was  what  the  West-Enders  alone  cared  for.  I  lost 
sight  of  the  doctor  after  the  Tolbooth  was  pulled  down  in  1817.  He 
then  disappeared  from  the  visible  creation,  as  a  result  of  one  of  the 
many  statutory  enactments  that  have  latterly  rubbed  out  our  social 
eccentricities. 

As  an  old  eddy  corner  of  the  world's  tumultuous  current,  into 
which  light  floating  wreck  was  naturally  swept,  the  Old  Tolbooth, 
with  its  scenes  of  grief  and  drollery,  might  not  be  supposed  to  be 
quite  an  appropriate  resort  for  a  lad  who  had  to  make  his  way  in  the 
sober  track  of  life.  All  I  can  summon  to  remembrance  in  the  mat- 
ter is,  that  I  here  incidentally  saw  down  into  the  depths  of  society, 


584  ROBERT    AND     WILLIAM     CHAMBERS. 

to  which  the  affluent  classes  have  little  opportunity  of  penetrating. 
M^  experiences  among  the  shifty  sub-middle  classes,  here  as  else- 
where, proved  by  no  means  the  least  valuable  part  of  my  training  for 
the  career  into  which  I  was  ultimately  drifted.  Nor  has  the  recollec- 
tion of  the  Old  Tol booth  and  its  inmates  ever  ceased  to  afford  a  fund 
of  entertainment.  In  the  Memoirs  of  a  celebrated  duchess,  we  are 
favored  with  the  contrast  which  Her  Grace  draws  between  her  pres- 
ent grand  dull  routine  of  existence,  and  the  times  long  past,  when, 
skirmishing  with  pecuniary  difficulties,  she  pursued  the  life  of  an  act- 
ress— her  preference  being  decidedly  given  for  "lang  syne,"  with 
its  sparkling  wit,  glee,  and  poverty,  unburdened  with  the  vapid  so- 
lemnities of  etiquette.  The  duchess,  however,  had  no  wish  to  return 
to  these  delightful  early  pursuits. 

I  made  such  attempts  as  were  at  all  practicable,  while  an  appren- 
tice, to  remedy  the  defects  of  my  education  at  school.  Nothing  in 
that  way  could  be  done  in  the  shop,  for  there  reading  was  proscribed. 
But  allowed  to  take  home  a  book  for  study,  I  gladly  availed  myself 
of  the  privilege.  The  mornings  in  summer,  when  light  cost  nothing, 
were  my  chief  reliance.  Fatigued  with  trudging  about,  I  was  not  natur- 
ally inclined  to  rise,  but  on  this  and  some  other  points  I  overruled  the 
will,  and  forced  myself  to  get  up  at  five  o'clock,  and  have  a  spell  at 
reading  until  it  was  time  to  think  of  moving  off;  my  brother,  when 
he  was  with  me,  doing  the  same.  In  this  way  I  made  some  progress 
in  French,  with  the  pronunciation  of  which  I  was  already  familiar 
from  the  speech  of  the  French  prisoners  of  war  at  Peebles.  I  like- 
wise dipped  into  several  books  of  solid  worth,  such  as  Smith's 
"Wealth  of  Nations,"  Locke's  "Human  Understanding,"  Paley's 
"Moral  Philosophy,"  and  Blair's  "  Belles-Lettres," — fixing  the  lead- 
ing facts  and  theories  in  my  memory  by  a  note-book  for  the  purpose. 
In  another  book,  I  kept  for  years  an  accurate  account  of  my  ex- 
penses, not  allowing  a  single  half-penny  to  escape  record. 

In  the  winter  of  1815-16,  when  the  cold  and  cost  of  candle-light 
would  have  detained  me  in  bed,  I  was  so  fortunate  as  to  discover  an 
agreeable  means  of  spending  my  mornings.  The  sale  of  lottery  tick- 
ets, I  have  said,  formed  a  branch  of  my  employer's  business.  Besides 
distributing  the  lottery  circulars,  it  fell  to  my  lot  to  paste  all  the 
large  show-boards  with  posters  of  glaring  colors,  bearing  the  words 
"Lucky  Office,"  "Twenty  Thousand  Pounds  still  in  the  Wheel," 
and  such-like  seductive  announcements.  The  board-carriers — shilling- 
a-day  men — were  usually  a  broken-down  set  of  characters;  as,  for 
example,  old  waiters  and  footmen,  with  pale,  flabby  faces  and  purple 
noses ;  discharged  soldiers,  who  had  returned  in  a  shattered  condi- 
tion from  the  wars ;  and  tattered  operatives  of  middle  age,  ruined 
by  dram-drinking. 

Among  the  last-named  class  of  board -carriers,  there  was  a  journey- 
man baker  who  had  an  eye  irretrievably  damaged  by  some  rough,  but 
possibly  not  unprovoked,  usage  in  a  king's  birthday  riot.  What  from 


A  SHIFT    FOR    HOT    ROLLS.  585 

the  bad  eye,  and  what  from  whisky,  this  unfortunate  being  had  fallen 
out  of  regular  employment.  Now  and  then  when  there  was  a  push 
in  the  trade,  as  at  the  New  Year,  he  got  a  day's  work  from  his  old 
employer,  a  baker  in  Canal  street.  He  was  not  at  all  nice  as  to  oc- 
cupation :  he  would  deliver  handbills,  perambulate  the1  streets  with  a 
lottery-board  at  -the  top  of  a  pole  over  his  shoulder,  or  any  thing  else 
that  cast  up,  only  he  needed  a  little  watching,  for,  when  out  on  a 
job  with  the  relics  of  the  previous  day's  shilling  in  his  pocket,  he 
was  prone  to  thirstiness  in  passing  a  dram-shop,  into  which  he  would 
dive,  board  and  all,  regardless  of  consequences. 

From  this  hopeful  personage,  whom  it  was  my  duty  to  look  after, 
T  one  day  had  a  proposition,  which  he  had  been  charged  to  com- 
municate. If  I  pleased,  he  would  introduce  me  to  his  occasional  em- 
ployer, the  baker  in  Canal  street,  who,  he  said,  was  passionately  fond 
of  reading,  but  without  leisure  for  its  gratification.  If  I  would  go 
early,  very  early,  say  five  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  read  aloud  to 
him  and  his  two  sons,  while  they  were  preparing  their  batch,  I  should 
be  regularly  rewarded  for  my  trouble  with  a  penny  roll  newly  drawn 
from  the  oven.  Hot  rolls,  as  I  have  since  learned,  are  not  to  be 
recommended  for  the  stomach,  but  I  could  not  in  these  times  afford 
to  be  punctilious.  The  proposal  was  too  captivating  to  be  resisted. 

Behold  me,  then,  quitting  my  lodgings  in  the  West  Port,  before  five 
o'clock  in  the  winter  mornings,  and  pursuing  my  way  across  the  town 
to  the  cluster  of  sunk  streets  below  the  North  Bridge,  of  which  Canal 
street  was  the  principal.  The  scene  of  operations  was  a  cellar  of 
confined  dimensions,  reached  by  a  flight  of  steps  descending  from 
the  street,  and  possessing  a  small  back  window  immediately  beyond 
the 'baker's  kneading  boardl  Seated  on  a  folded-up  sack  in  the  sole 
of  the  window,  with  a  book  in  one  hand  and  a  penny  candle  stuck 
in  a  bottle  near  the  other,  I  went  to  work  for  the  amusement  of  the 
company.  The  baker  was  not  particular  as  to  subject.  All  he  stipu- 
lated for  was  something  droll  and  laughable.  Aware  of  his  tastes,  I 
tried  him  first  with  the  jocularities  of  "Roderick  Random,"  which 
was  a  great  success,  and  produced  shouts  of  laughter.  I  followed  this 
up  with  other  works  of  Smollet,  also  with  the  novels  of  Fielding,  and 
with  "  Gil  Bias;  "  the  tricks  and  grotesque  rogueries  in  this  last-men- 
tioned work  of  fiction  giving  the  baker  and  his  two  sons  unqualified 
satisfaction.  My  services  as  a  reader  for  two  and  a  half  hours  every 
morning  were  unfailingly  recompensed  by  a  donation  of  the  antici- 
pated roll,  with  which,  after  getting  myself  brushed  of  the  flour,  I 
went  on  my  way  to  shop-opening,  lamp-cleaning,  and  all  the  rest  of 
it,  at  Calton  street.  It  would  be  vain  in  the  present  day  to  try  to 
discover  the  baker's  workshop,  where  these  morning  performances 
took  place,  for  the  whole  of  the  buildings  in  this  quarter  have  been 
removed  to  make  way  for  the  North  British  Railway  station. 

Such,  with  minor  variations,  was  my  mode  of  life  for  several  years — 
an  almost  ceaseless  drudgery.  At  that  period  there  were  no  public 


586  ROBERT    AND     WILLIAM     CHAMBERS. 

institutions  of  a  popular  kind  to  stimulate  and  regulate  plans  of  self- 
culture.  The  School  of  Arts,  the  precursor  of  mechanics'  institutions, 
was  not  set  on  foot  until  1821.  Young  persons  in  humble  circum- 
stances were  still  left  to  grope  their  way.  They  might  spend  their 
spare  hours  in  study,  if  they  had  a  mtfid;  nobody  cared  any  thing  at 
all  about  it.  Neither  were  young  men,  by  the  usages  of  business, 
allowed  any  time  to  carry  out  fancies  as  to  mental  improvement. 
Shop-hours  extended  from  half-past  seven  o'clock  in  the  morning  till 
nine  at  night,  with  no  abatement  on  Saturdays.  Notions  of  mere 
amusement  I  did  not  dare  to  entertain.  The  Theater  Royal  had  its 
attractions,  but  expense,  if  nothing  else,  stood  in  the  way.  I  had  as 
yet  been  only  once  in  the  theater.  A  friend  of  our  family  had 
treated  me  to  the  shilling-gallery,  shortly  after  coming  to  Edinburgh ; 
it  was  to  see  John  Kemble,  who  played  Rollo,  a  subject  of  absorb- 
ing interest,  and  not  for  a  number  of  years  afterwards  could  I  ven- 
ture on  any  species  of  theatrical  indulgence.  In  gracefully  submit- 
ting to  this  self-denial  perhaps  I  had  no  great  merit.  So  far  as  spare 
time  was  concerned,  my  mind  had  become  occupied  not  only  in 
the  morning  readings  and  study,  but  in  sundry  scientific  experiments, 
to  which  I  was  led  by  James  King,  who  was  an  apprentice  to  a  seeds- 
man next  door. 

King  was  two  or  three  years  my  senior,  and  I  looked  up  to  him 
on  that  account  as  well  as  for  his  general  ability.  He  came  from 
Fife,  which  is  noted  for  the  saliency  and  genius  of  its  people.  Our 
proximity  to  each  other,  and  similarity  of  tastes,  brought  us  into  ac- 
quaintance. He  had  a  younger  brother,  George,  an  apprentice  to 
Mr.  Crombie,  a  well-known  dyer,  with  whom  I  also  became  acquainted ; 
and  when  my  brother  Robert  came  to  town  to  lodge  with  me,  he  was 
introduced  to  the  circle.  We  formed,  so  to  speak,  a  club  of  four 
lads,  devoted  to  some  species  of  scientific  inquiry  and  recreation. 
The  Kings  were  great  upon  chemistry.  Their  talk  was  of  retorts, 
alkalies,  acids,  combustion,  and  oxygen  gas,  all  which  gave  me  a  fa- 
vorable opinion  of  their  learning.  They  likewise  spoke  so  familiarly 
of  electricity,  Leyden  jars,  and  the  galvanic  pile,  as  to  excite  in  me 
a  desire  to  know  something  of  these  marvels.  Chemistry  and  elec- 
tricity became  accordingly  the  subject  of  discussion  and  experiment; 
but  the  difficulty  was  to  know  where  experiments  could  be  conducted. 
My  lodgings  were  out  of  the  question.  So  were  those  of  the  Kings. 
They  lived  in  a  garret,  situated  immediately  behind  the  well  on  the 
south  side  of  the  Grassmarket,  which  it  was  inexpedient  to  constitute 
a  hall  of  science,  and  the  notion  of  resorting  to  it  was  given  up. 
In  this  dilemma,  a  friendly  and  every  way  suitable  retreat,  which  re- 
mains vividly  in  my  recollections,  presented  itself,  and  was  gratefully 
accepted. 

As  you  go  up  a  narrow  and  steep  road  to  the  Gallon  Hill,  at  the 
foot  of  Leith  street,  a  covered  passage  descends  and  strikes  off  to  the 
left,  and  conducts  you  to  a  confined  court,  wherein  stood,  and,  per- 


JAMIE     THE     GRAVE-DIGGER.  587 

haps,  still  stands,  a  small  cottage  with  a  tiled  roof,  that  had  to  all 
appearance  existed  long  before  the  streets  with  which  it  was  envir- 
oned. The  back  window  in  Gallon  street,  where  I  used  to  clean  the 
lamps,  looked  into  the  court,  and  I  could  notice  that  the  little  old- 
fashioned  cottage  was  occupied  by  a  thin  and  aged  personage  with  a 
bright  brown  scratch  wig,  who,  in  fine  weather,  made  his  appearance  on 
the  pavement  as  a  common  street  porter.  The  name  by  which  he  was 
known  in  the  neighborhood  was  Jamie  Alexander.  As  voucher  for 
his  respectability,  he  wore  on  the  left  breast  of  his  coat  a  pewter 
badge,  marked  No.  3,  indicative  of  the  early  period  at  which  he  had 
been  enrolled  by  the  magistrates  in  the  fraternity  of  porters;  and  of 
this  antiquity  of  his  emblem  of  office  he  felt  naturally  proud;  all 
other  porters,  however  old,  being  boys  in  comparison,  and  not  pos- 
sessing that  distinction  of  rank  which  he  did. 

Jamie  was  a  Highlander  by  birth,  and  in  his  youth,  long  ago,  had 
been  a  servant  to  a  Mr.  Tytler,  a  gentleman  of  literary  and  scientific 
attainments,  with  whom  he  had  traveled  and  seen  the  world,  and  in 
whose  company  he  had  picked  up  a  smattering  of  learned  ideas  and 
words.  With  this  grounding,  and  naturally  handy,  Jamie  was  a  kind 
of  Jack-of-all  trades.  It  was  in  his  capacity  of  porter  that  King  and 
I  had  become  acquainted  with  him,  but  at  his  advanced  age  he  relied 
more  distinctly  on  less  toilsome  pursuits.  The  versatility  of  his  talents 
rendered  him  peculiarly  acceptable  as  an  acquaintance,  and  his  house 
was  well  adapted  for  our  meetings.  This  ancient  mansion  consisted 
of  only  a  single  apartment;  it  was  kitchen,  parlor,  bedroom,  and 
workshop  all  in  one,  a  queer  and  incongruous  jumble,  like  the  mind 
of  the  occupant. 

Usually,  at  night,  we  found  Jamie  seated  at  one  side  of  his  fire, 
and  his  wife  Janet,  a  more  commonplace  character,  at  the  other.  Be- 
hind the  old  man  was  his  work-bench,  loaded  with  a  variety  of  tools 
and  odds  and  ends  adapted  to  a  leading  branch  of  employment, 
which  consisted  in  clasping  broken  china  and  crystal  for  the  stone- 
ware shops.  This  operation  he  performed  with  a  neatness  that  sur- 
prised most  persons,  who  knew  that  he  had  lost  the  sight  of  one  of 
his  eyes.  It  did  not  seem  to  be  generally  understood  that  Jamie  had 
a  contrivance  satisfactory  to  himself  for  remedying  this  ocular  defi- 
ciency. In  his  old  pair  of  spectacles  he  fixed  two  glasses  for  the 
seeing  eye,  and  he  maintained  that  by  this  arrangement  of  a  double 
lens,  his  single  eye  was  as  good  to  him  as  two,  a  point  we  did  not 
think  fit  to  contest. 

To  vary  the  routine  of  employment,  and  at  the  same  time  enjoy  a 
little  out-door  recreation,  Jamie  at  times  took  a  job  from  the  under- 
takers. Dressed  in  a  thread-bare  black  suit,  he  walked  as  a  saulic 
before  the  higher  class  of  funerals,  with  his  hat  under  his  arm,  and 
the  black  velvet  cap  of  a  running  footman  covering  his  brown  wi^. 
In  connection  with  his  profession  of  sou/if,  he  related  numerous  tra- 
ditionary anecdotes  illustrative  of  the  festivities  of  deceased  saulie 


588  ROBERT    AND     WILLIAM    CHAMBERS. 

and  gumflermen  in  the  servant's  hall  of  great  houses*  while  waiting  in 
lugubrious  habiliments  to  head  the  funeral  solemnity, -his  stories  re- 
minding one- of  the  interspersal  of  scenes  of  drollery  throughout  the 
tragedies  of  Shakespeare,  and,  I  doubt  not,  true  to  nature.  Besides 
these  diverting  reminiscences  of  grand  funerals,  he  gave  'his  experi- 
ences of  grave-digging  in  the  Calton  bury  ing-ground,  where  he  often 
assisted.  He  confidently  stated  that  the  digging  of  graves  was  a 
wonderfully  exhilarating  and  healthful  occupation,  if  executed  with 
proper  skill  and  leisure.  Nothing,  in  his  opinion,  was  so  efficacious 
in  assuaging  a  rheumatism  in  the  back,  or  securing  long  life;  and  to 
hear  him  on  this  subject,  you  would  have  thought  it  would  be  a  good 
thing  in  the  way  of  health  and  amusement  to  take  to  regular  exer- 
cise in  grave-digging.  It  appeared  that  independently  of  payment 
for  this  kind  of  labor  according  to  tariff,  Jamie  seldom  left  the 
ground  without  a  few  bits  of  old  coffin  in  good  condition,  which  had 
been  thrown  to  the  surface  in  the  course  of  excavation.  Such  pieces 
of  wood,  improved  by  seasoning  in  the  earth,  he  said,  excelled  for 
some  purposes  of  art.  From  them  he  made  a  common  kind  of  fid- 
dles, and  also  cheap  wooden  clocks. 

With  much  oddity  of  character,  there  was  a  fine  spirit  of  industry, 
cheerfulness,  and  contentment  in  the  old  man.  As  a  Highlander, 
he  spoke  Gaelic,  and  from  him  I  learned  to  be  tolerably  proficient 
in  pronouncing  that  test  in  the  language,  laogh,  the  word  for  calf. 
With  a  love  of  the  ancient  music  of  the  hills,  he  played  the  bagpipe, 
but  this  instrument,  from  deficiency  of  breath,  he  had  latterly  laid 
aside,  and  taken  to  the  Irish  pipes,  which  are  played  by  means  of 
bellows  under  the  arm.  His  pipes  lay  conveniently  on  a  shelf  over 
his  work-bench,  and  taking  them  down,  he,  at  our  request,  would 
favor  us  with  a  pibroch.  Having  finished  the  tune,  he  ordinarily 
delivered  some  oracular  remarks  on  pipe-music  in  general,  and  of  the 
operatic  character  of  the  pibroch  in  particular,  the  only  time,  by  the 
way,  I  ever  heard  the  thing  explained. 

Janet,  the  mistress  of  the  mansion,  did  not  greatly  encourage  our 
visits.  Her  chief  concern  in  life  seemed  to  consist  in  nursing  a  small 
and  ingeniously  made-up  fire,  which  was  apt  to  be  seriously  deranged 
by  King's  chemical  experiments,  such  as  the  production  of  coal-gas 
in  a  blacking-bottle,  used  by  way  of  retort, — the  proposal  of  lighting 
the  city  with  gas  having  suggested  this  novel  experiment.  For  a 
special  reason,  this  old  woman  was  not  more  favorable  to  electric 
science.  Under  King's  advice  and  directions,  my  brother  and  I  con- 
trived, out  of  very  poor  resources,  to  procure  a  cylindrical  electrify- 
ing machine,  with  some  apparatus  to  correspond.  Having  one  night 
given  Janet  an  electric  shock,  slyly  conveyed  to  her  through  a  piece 

*  Mutes  bearing  tall  poles  shrouded  in  black  drapery  are  called  in  Scotland 
gumfler  men ;  such  being  a  corruption  of  gonfalonier,  the  bearer  of  a  gonfalon,  or 
standard,  in  old  ceremonial  procession. 


THEIR      SUNDAYS    AT     HOME.  589 

of  damp  tobacco,  she  ever  after  viewed  the  machine  with  the  darkest 
suspicions.  In  these  apprehensions  her  gray  cat  had  some  reason  to 
join ;  when  the  Leyden  jars  were  placed  on  the  table,  she  fled  to  the 
roof  of  the  bed,  and  there  kept  eying  us  during  our  mysterious  incan- 
tations. 

Sunday,  with  its  blessed  exemption  from  a  dull  round  of  duties, 
came  weekly  with  its  soothing  influences ;  and  this  leads  to  a  little 
explanation.  If  any  one  is  so  complimentary  as  to  think  that  I  had 
some  merit  in  devising  how  to  live  on  so  low  a  figure  as  a  shilling 
and  ninepence  a  week,  he  may  be  disposed  to  modify  his  surprise  on 
my  stating  that  the  expenditure  did  not  include  Sunday,  so  that, 
after  all,  the  one-and-ninepence  weekly  inferred  as  much  as  three- 
pence-halfpenny a  day.  For  several  years,  I  walked  home  to  the 
country  every  Saturday  night.  Between  nine  and  ten  o'clock,  in  all 
states  of  the  weather,  summer  and  winter,  I  might  have  been  found 
making  the  best  of  my  way  down  the  North  Back  of  the  Canongate, 
past  Holy  rood,  across  the  King's  Park  by  Muschet's  Cairn,  and  so  on 
through  Portobello.  It  was  necessary  not  to  loiter  by  the  way,  for, 
with  a  somewhat  limited  wardrobe,  a  few  things  which  I  carried  with 
me  had  to  be  washed  and  otherwise  prepared  before  midnight.  In 
these  night-travels  my  brother  Robert,  while  he  remained  in  town, 
accompanied  me. 

The  Sundays  spent  on  the  shore  of  the  Firth  of  Forth  formed  a  re- 
freshing change  on  the  ordinary  course  of  life.  The  salt-pans  had 
ceased  to  send  up  their  nauseous  vapors  and  clouds  of  smoke.  A 
pleasant  and  not  uninstructive  calm  was  experienced  amidst  the  shell 
and  tangle  covered  rocks,  against  which  the  pellucid  waves  of  the 
sea  dashed  in  unremitting  murmurs.  Usually,  I  went  to  Inveresk 
Church  with  other  members  of  the  family,  and  so  became  acquainted 
with  Musselburg  and  its  environs.  Sometimes  I  walked  by  a  footpath 
across  the  fields  by  Brunstain  and  Millerhill  to  Dalkeith,  to  visit  my 
grandmother,  Mrs.  Noble,  and  her  younger  son  David,  who  had  re- 
cently been  settled  there  (Robert,  the  elder  son,  having  gone  to  Nova 
Scotia),  and  enjoyed  the  variety  of  accompanying  them  to  the  antique 
parish  church  of  that  pretty  country  town. 

There  was  an  immense  charm  in  these  occasional  Sabbath-day 
walks  to  Dalkeith,  in  which  I  usually  carried  a  French  New  Testament 
in  my  pocket  for  lingual  exercise.  The  sunshine,  the  calm  that  pre- 
vailed, the  fresh  air,  the  singing  of  birds,  the  green  leafy  trees,  and 
the  blossoming  wild-flowers  by  the  wayside,  all  filled  my  heart  with 
gladness,  for  they  renewed  my  recollections  of  the  country.  The 
fields,  stuck  about  with  coal-pits,  at  which  the  gin-horses  had  inter- 
mitted their  accustomed  toil,  were  not  such  pretty  fields  as  I  had 
seen  on  Tweedside  ;  still  they  were  environed  with  hedgerows,  and 
formed  a  pleasing  contrast  to  the  huge  rows  of  dingy  buildings  among 
which  I  pursued  my  ordinary  employment.  As  a  boy,  1  had  passion- 
ately cultivated  flowers  in  a  little  garden  assigned  to  me,  and  now 


5QO  ROBERT    AND    WILLIAM     CHAMBERS. 

rejoiced  to  see  a  few  growing  by  the  side  of  the  pathway.  The  Mid- 
Lothian  primroses,  I  imagined — considering  the  neighborhood  of  the 
coal-pits — had  not  the  freshness  and  bloom  of  the  primroses  which 
I  had  gathered  in  the  woods  and  dells  at  Neidpath ;  but  still  they 
were  primroses,  and,  as  the  best  within  reach,  I  plucked  and  carried 
home  a  handful  as  a  gift  to  my  mother  in  her  dreary  residence  at  the 
Pans,  and  was  pleased  to  see  her  put  them  in  a  glass  with  a  little 
water,  to  preserve  as  a  souvenir  of  my  weekly  visit. 

The  small  smoked-dried  community  at  these  salt-pans  was  socially 
interesting.  Along  with  the  colliers  in  the  neighboring  tiled  hamlets, 
the  salt-makers — at  least  the  elderly  among  them — had  at  one  time 
been  serfs,  and  in  that  condition  they  had  been  legally  sold  along 
with  the  property  on  which  they  dwelt.  I  conversed  with  some  of 
them  on  the  subject.  They  and  their  children  had  been  heritable 
fixtures  to  the  spot.  They  could  neither  leave  at  will  nor  change 
their  profession.  In  short,  they  were  in  a  sense  slaves.  I  feel  it  to 
be  curious  that  I  should  have  seen  and  spoken  to  persons  in  this  coun- 
try who  remembered  being  legally  in  a  state  of  serfdom ;  and  such 
they  were  until  the  year  1799,  when  an  act  of  parliament  abolished 
this  last  remnant  of  slavery  in  the  British  Islands.  Appreciating  the 
event,  they  set  aside  one  day  in  the  year  as  a  festival  commemorative 
of  their  liberation.  Perhaps  the  custom  of  celebrating  the  day  still 
exists. 

After  these  Sunday  communings  with  the  family,  I  was  on  Monday 
morning  off  again  for  Edinburgh  to  have  a  fresh  tug  at  the  shop- 
shutters,  carrying  away  with  me,  I  need  hardly  say,  all  kinds  of  ad- 
monitory hints  from  my  mother,  the  burden  of  her  recommendations 
being  to  avoid  low  companions,  to  mind  whom  I  was  come  of,  and 
"  aye  to  haud  forrit."  What  was  to  become  of  me  was,  as  she  said, 
a  perfect  mystery ;  still  there  was  nothing  like  securing  a  good  char- 
acter in  the  mean  while — that  was  clear,  at  all  events. 

My  mother,  however,  had  more  cause  for  uneasiness  on  her  own 
than  my  account.  The  aspect  of  family  affairs  was  acquiring  addi- 
tional gloom.  My  father  was  not  the  man  for  the  situation  he  filled. 
In  fact  he  detested  situations  of  all  kinds.  His  rough  and  irritable 
spirit  of  independence  gave  him  a  dislike  to  be  ordered  by  any  body. 
His  feelings  at  this  period  were  in  a  morbid  condition,  the  result  of 
circumstances  already  adverted  to,  and  therefore  not  to  be  judged 
severely.  Having  unfortunately  failed  in  the  means  of  acting  an  in- 
dependent part,  he  was  perhaps  on  that  account  the  more  anxious 
that  his  sons  should  be  successful  in  making  the  attempt.  At  any 
rate,  he  endeavored  to  impress  on  me  the  vast  necessity  and  advan- 
tage of,  in  all  things,  thinking  for  myself,  and  taking,  as  far  as  pos- 
sible, an  independent  course.  He  objected  to  my  ever  entertaining 
the  notion  of  continuing  to  serve  any  one  after  my  apprenticeship 
had  expired.  No  amount  of  salary  was  to  tempt  me ;  no  prospect  of 
ease  to  seduce  me.  I  should  strike  out  for  myself,  if  it  were  only  to 


GOOD    PHILOSOPHY  —  WHAT    SMIBERT    DID.         591 

sell  books  in  a  basket  from  door  to  door.  There  might  be  suffering 
and  humiliation  in  the  mean  time;  but  I  would  be  daily  gaining  ex- 
perience, and,  with  prudence,  accumulating  means.  If  I  behaved 
myself  properly,  a  few  years  would  set  all  to  rights. 

These  disquisitions  amused  and  probably  had  some  effect  in  inspir- 
ing me.  My  father  had  strong  convictions  as  to  the  propriety  of  al- 
lowing children  to  think  and  struggle  for  themselves;  such,  in  his 
opinion,  being  true  kindness,  and  any  thing  else  little  better  than 
cruelty.  Seated  in  his  arm-chair  at  the  Pans,  with  two  or  three  of 
us  about  him,  he  would  discourse  in  this  pleasant  way,  interlarding 
anecdote  with  philosophy. 

"You  think  it  a  hard  business,  I  dare  say," — addressing  me, — "to 
live  in  your  present  pinching  way,  scheming  as  to  buying  meal  and 
milk,  and  all  that;  but  it  is  doing  you  an  immense  deal  of  good.  It 
is  strengthening  your  mind,  and  teaching  you  the  art  of  thinking, 
that  is  the  great  point.  You  should  be  thankful  for  my  not  doing 
any  thing  for  you.  Perhaps  you  would  like  to  have  every  thing  held 
up  to  you — lodgings,  tailors'  bills,  boots,  and  what  not,  all  paid  for 
the  asking.  What  would  be  the  upshot?  You  would  never  know 
the  value  of  money.  You  would  grow  up  as  ignorant  and  dependent 
as  a  child,  and  never  be  able  to  take  a  front  rank  in  the  world.  It 
is  melancholy  to  see  so  many  fathers  spoiling  their  children  from 
mistaken  notions  of  kindness.  Young  men  treated  in  that  foolish 
way  can  do  nothing  for  themselves,  but  must  have  somebody  always 
behind  them  to  shove  them  into  situations,  where  their  minds  lose  all 
power  of  thinking  and  planning  correctly.  No  doubt  they  can  plan 
what  they  would  like  to  have  for  dinner ;  few  folk  are  ill  at  that,  or 
about  going  to  the  theater,  or  what  should  be  the  color  of  their 
gloves.  But  that  is  not  what  I  mean.  What  I  am  speaking  of  is  the 
faculty  of  thinking  and  acting  for  yourself  in  all  kinds  of  unexpected 
difficulty.  I  could  tell  you  plenty  of  stories  about  inability  to  think 
or  act  independently.  You  remember  the  excise  officer  at-  Peebles, 
who  for  a  number  of  years  looked  after  Kerfield  Brewery,  a  most  ex- 
cellent person,  but  not  qualified  to  think  for  himself.  His  mind  had 
been  stunted  for  want  of  exercise.  Stirred  up  by  his  wife,  an  ambi- 
tious little  woman,  with  whom  he  had  received  some  money,  he  in- 
considerately threw  up  his  situation,  and  purchased  the  effects  of  a 
deceased  brewer  at  Galashiels,  his  object  being  to  go  into  business  for 
himself.  When  he  came  to  look  into  matters,  he  was  utterly  at  a  loss. 
It  was  all  simple  enough,  but  the  man  had  no  power  of  planning. 
Besides  putting  things  in  repair,  he  had  to  buy  grain  and  hops,  order 
new  barrels,  purchase  horses,  and  hire  servants.  For  one  thing,  he 
had  to  open  and  read  a  hundred  and  thirty-nine  letters  applying  for 
the  situation  of  clerk.  All  this,  along  with  other  perplexities,  drove 
him  clean  wild.  He  felt  that  he  had  got  into  an  affair  he  could  not 
go  through  with,  and  then,  when  he  reflected  upon  the  loss  of  his 
comfortable  situation,  and  still  worse  the  loss  of  his  money,  he  be- 


592  ROBERT     AND     WILLIAM     CHAMBERS. 

came  seriously  ill,  and  took  to  his  bed.  In  these  circumstances,  his 
wife,  greatly  at  a  loss  what  to  do,  sent  for  our  old  friend  Smibert, 
who  was  once  Provost  of  Peebles,  a  man  of  extraordinary  shrewdness. 
From  his  cleverness,  we  used  to  call  him  Talleyrand.  When  the  poor 
sick  man  saw  the  old  Provost  make  his  appearance,  he  felt  a  won- 
derful degree  of  relief.  The  wife,  sitting  by  the  side  of  the  bed,  ex- 
plained the  scrape  they  had  got  into,  and  asked  what  should  be  done. 

"'  Done,"  answered  their  visitor,  leaning  on  his  crooked-headed 
stick  to  save  his  lame  leg;  'what's  to  be  done  but  to  sell  off  the 
.whole  concern,  and  try  to  get  reinstated  in  the  Excise?' 

"  '  Very  good,'  said  the  wife;  '  but  how  is  the  sale  to  be  effected  ? 
it's  easy  speaking.' 

"'Leave  it  all  to  me,'  replied  Smibert,  briskly;  'I  know  how  to 
manage:  I'll  advertise  and  take  in  offers.' 

"  The  words  had  not  been  well  spoken,  when  the  sick  man  de- 
clared he  found  himself  getting  well,  and  that  they  might  take  the 
blister  from  the  back  of  his  neck.  In  a  day  or  two  he  was  quite  re- 
covered. Talleyrand  arranged  matters  beautifully.  He  sold  off  the 
concern,  though  at  a  sacrifice  to  the  owner,  who  after  some  trouble, 
got  himself  reinstated  in  the  Excise;  but  he  had  to  begin  over  again, 
and  lost  ten  years  on  the  books  by  his  ridiculous  attempt  at  inde- 
pendent exertion." 

Such  was  the  run  of  my  father's  disquisitions.  Unfortunately,  his 
extreme  views  of  independence  did  not  comport  with  his  functions  as 
manager  of  the  salt-works,  where  he  suffered  a  species  of  ignomini- 
ous banishment.  Among  the  near  neighbors  were  a  few  excise  offi- 
cers set  to  watch  over  the  works  and  give  permits  to  purchasers.  One 
of  these  officials  was  a  Mr.  Stobie,  in  whom  there  was  a  degree  of 
interest;  for,  while  in  the  position  of  an  expectant  of  Excise,  he  had 
done  duty  for  Robert  Burns  in  his  last  illness,  April,  1796,  when,  as 
the  poet  says  in  a  letter  to  Thomson:  "  Ever  since  I  wrote  you  last, 
1  have  only  known  existence  by  the  pressure  of  the  heavy  hand  of  sick- 
ness, and  have  counted  time  by  the  repercussions  of  pain."  It  re- 
dounded to  the  honor  of  Stobie  that  he  acted  gratuitously  for  Burns 
at  this  melancholy  crisis,  and  it  was  pleasing  for  our  family  to  make 
his  acquaintance,  and  hear  some  particulars  of  the  greatest  among 
Scottish  poets. 

Beyond  such  acquaintanceships,  there  was  little  to  compensate  for 
the  smoke,  dirt,  and  misery  that  were  endured  at  the  Pans.  The 
business  in  itself  violated  all  my  fathers  notions  of  propriety.  It 
consisted  almost  wholly  in  supplying  material  for  a  contraband  trade 
across  the  Border  to  England,  the  high  duties  on  salt  in  the  latter 
country  rendering  this  a  profitable  traffic.  Purchased  in  large  quan- 
tities at  Joppa  and  other  salt-works,  the  bags  were  transferred  in  carts 
to  Newcastleton  in  Liddesdale,  where  the  article  was  stored  by  a 
dealer,  and  sold  by  him  to  be  smuggled  across  the  fells  during  the 
night.  For  years  this  was  a  great  trade.  Perhaps  it  did  not  pertain 


A     FRESH     DOMESTIC     TROUBLE.  593 

to  the  Scotch  salt-makers  to  urge  the  extinction  of  so  flourishing  a 
traffic,  but  neither  could  any  one  of  susceptible  feelings  look  on  it 
with  perfect  complacency. 

Whatever  were  the  precise  causes'  of  discord,  a  disruption  was 
precipitated  by  my  father  having  the  misfortune  to  be  waylaid  and 
robbed  of  some  money  which  he  had  collected  in  the  way  of  business 
in  Edinburgh.  Knocked  down  and  grievously  bruised  about  the 
head,  he  was  found  late  at  night  lying  helpless  on  the  road,  and 
brought  home  by  some  good  Samaritan.  The  painful  circumstances 
connected  with  this  untoward  affair  led  to  his  being  discharged  from 
his  office.  In  his  now  hapless  state,  greatly  disabled  by  the  ^injuries 
which  he  had  received,  and  without  means,  the  consideration  of 
every  thing  fell  on  my  mother.  Her  mind  rose  to  the  occasion. 
Removing  from  the  sooty  precinct  to  one  of  a  row  of  houses  near 
Magdalene  Bridge,  on  the  road  to  Musselburgh,  she  prepared  to  set 
on  foot  a  small  business,  and  was  not  without  hope  of  meeting  with 
general  sympathy  and  support,  for  by  her  agreeable  manners  and  ex- 
emplary conduct  under  various  difficulties,  she  had  made  some  good 
friends  of  different  classes  in  the  neighborhood. 

With  something  like  dismay,  I  heard  of  the  fresh  disaster,  the 
climax,  it  was  to  be  hoped,  of  a  series  of  agonizing  misfortunes.  The 
house  at  the  Pans  had  been  about  the  most  revolting  of  human  habi- 
tations, but  it  at  least  gave  shelter,  and  bore  with  it  some  means  of 
livelihood.  Now,  all  that  was  at  an  end.  The  future  was  to  be  a 
matter  of  new  contrivance.  Of  course,  I  hastened  from  town  to  con- 
dole over  present  distresses,  and  share  in  the  family  counsels.  On 
my  unexpected  arrival  near  midnight,  cold,  wet,  and  wayworn,  all 
was  silent  in  that  poor  home.  In  darkness,  by  my  mother's  bedside, 
I  talked  with  her  of  the  scheme  she  had  projected.  It  was  little  I 
could  do.  Some  insignificant  savings  were  at  her  disposal,  and  so 
was  a  windfall  over  which  I  had  cause  for  rejoicing.  By  a  singular 
piece  of  good  fortune,  I  had  the  previous  clay  been  presented  with 
half  a  guinea  by  a  good-hearted  tradesman,  on  being  sent  to  him 
with  the  agreeable  intelligence  that  he  had  got  the  sixteenth  of  a 
twenty  thousand  pound  prize  in  the  state  lottery.  The  little  bit  of 
gold  was  put  into  my  mother's  hand.  With  emotion  too  great  for 
words,  my  own  hand  was  pressed  gratefully  in  return.  The  loving 
pressure  of  that  unseen  hand  in  the  midnight  gloom,  has  it  not 
proved  more  than  the  ordinary  blessing  of  a  mother  on  her  son  ? 

"  All  this,  still  legible  in  memory's  page, 
And  still  to  be  so  to  my  latest  age, 
Adds  joy  to  duty,  makes  me  glad  to  pay 
Such  honors  to  thee  a.->  my  numbers  may ; 
Perhaps  a  frail  memorial,  but  sincere — 
Not  scorned  in  heaven,  though  little  noticed  here." 

COW  PER. 

38 


594  ROBERT     AND     WILLIAM    CHAMBERS. 

Early  in  the  following  morning  I  was  back  to  business  in  Gallon 
street.  My  mother's  ingenious  efforts,  conducted  with  consummate 
tact,  and  wholly  regardless  of  toil,  were  successful.  Her  only  embar- 
rassment _was  my  father,  prematurely  broken  down  in  body  and  mind. 
It  is  not  the  purpose,  however,  of  the  present  memoir  to  pursue  the 
family  history.  Let  us  revert  to  the  leading  object  in  hand. 


ROBERT'S  EARLY  DIFFICULTIES — 1814  TO  1819. 

It  will  be  necessary  to  go  back  a  little,  in  order  to  trace  the  diffi- 
culties that  were  encountered  by  Robert  in  the  early  part  of  his 
career,  while  I  was  still  following  out  the  duties  of  an  apprentice. 

The  family  depression  during  this  gloomy  period  was  felt  more 
acutely  by  my  brother  than  by  myself,  for,  besides  being  more  sus- 
ceptible in  feelings,  he  was,  from  his  gentle  and  retiring  habits,  less 
able  to  face  the  stern  realities  with  which  we  were  unitedly  environed. 
Left,  as  has  been  said,  for  a  time  in  Peebles  to  pursue  his  studies  at 
the  grammar-school,  he  was  finally  brought  to  Edinburgh,  and  placed 
at  a  noted  classical  academy, — that  of  Mr.  Benjamin  Mackay,  in 
West  Register  street, — preparatory  to  being  (if  possible)  sent  to  the 
university.  There  was  an  understanding  in  the  family  that,  as  the 
most  suitable  professional  pursuit,  he  was  to  be  prepared  for  the 
Church.  The  expenses  attending  on  this  course  of  education  were 
considerably  beyond  present  capabilities,  but  all  was  to  be  smoothed 
over  by  a  bursary,  of  which  a  distant  relative  held  out  some  vague 
expectations. 

When  the  family  quitted  Edinburgh,  Robert  accompanied  them, 
but  shortly  afterwards,  with  a  considerable  strain  on  finances,  he  was 
associated  with  me  in  my  West  Port  lodgings.  Here,  from  the  un- 
congenial habits  with  which  he  was  brought  in  contact,  he  felt  con- 
siderably out  of  place.  I  was  fortunately  absent  during  the  greater 
part  of  the  day  in  my  accustomed  duties ;  but  he,  after  school  hours, 
had  to  rely  on  such  refuge  as  could  be  found  at  the  unattractive 
fireside  of  our  landlady,  who,  though  disposed  to  be  kind  in  her  way, 
was  so  chilled  by  habits  of  penury  as  to  give  little  consideration  for 
the  feelings  of  the  poor  scholar.  He  spoke  to  me  of  his  sufferings 
and  the  efforts  he  made  to  assuage  them.  The  want  of  warmth  was 
his  principal  discomfort.  Sometimes,  benumbed  with  cold,  he  was 
glad  to  adjourn  to  that  ever  hospitable  retreat,  the  Old  Tolbooth, 
where,  like  myself,  he  was  received  as  a  welcome  visitor  by  the  West- 
Enders ;  and  it  is  not  unworthy  of  being  mentioned,  that  the  oddities 
of  character  among  these  unfortunate,  though  on  the  whole  joyous, 
prisoners,  and  their  professional  associates, — not  forgetting  Davie, — 
formed  a  fund  of  recollection  on  which  he  afterwards  drew  for  liter- 
ary purposes.  That  strange  old  prison,  with  its  homely  arrangements, 
was  therefore  to  him,  as  to  me,  identified  with  early  associations,— 


ROBERT'S   YOUTHFUL    INVESTIGATIONS.        595 

a  thing  the  remembrance  of  which  became  to  both  a  subject  of  life- 
long amusement.  There  was  also  some  exhilaration  for  him  in  occa- 
sionally attending  the  nightly  book-auctions,  where,  favored  with 
light  and  warmth,  seated  in  a  by-corner,  he  could  study  his  lessons, 
as  well  as  derive  a  degree  of  entertainment  from  the  scene  which 
was  presented.  A  further  source  of  evening  recreation,  but  not  till 
past  nine  o'clock,  and  then  only  for  an  hour,  was  found  in  those 
meetings  with  the  brothers  King  and  myself  for  mutual  scientific  in- 
struction. 

Viewed  apart  from  these  solacements,  his  life  was  dreary  in  the  ex- 
treme. Half-starved,  unsympathized  with,  and  looking  for  no  com- 
fort at  home,  he  probably  would  have  lost  heart  but  for  the  daily  ex- 
ercises at  school,  where  he  stood  as  rival  and  class-fellow  of  Mackay's 
best  pupils.  A  good  Latinist  considering  his  years,  and  appreciative 
of  wit  and  humor,  he  had  an  immense  love  of  the  odes  and  satires  of 
Horace,  nor  was  he  scarcely  a  less  admirer  of  the  classic  myths  of 
Virgil,  for  they  touched  on  that  cord  of  romance  and  legendary  lore 
which  vibrated  in  his  own  mental  constitution. 

Ever  since  his  arrival  in  Edinburgh,  and  without  suggestion  from 
any  one,  he  had  taken  delight  in  exploring,  at  fitting  times,  what  was 
ancient  and  historically  interesting  in  the  Old  Town,  which,  for 
tastes  of  this  kind,  presents  a  peculiarly  comprehensive  field  of  in- 
quiry. Once  crowded  within  defensive  walls,  the  older  part  of  the  city 
remained  a  dense  cluster  of  tall,  dark  buildings,  lining  the  central 
street  and  diverging  lanes,  or  closes,  with  comparatively  little  change 
in  exterior  aspect.  However  altered  as  regards  the  quality  of  the 
dwellers  on  the  different  floors,  the  tenements  still  exhibited  innumer- 
able artistic  and  heraldic  tokens  of  the  past ;  nor  were  the  environs 
of  the  town  less  illustrative  of  moving  incidents  of  the  olden  time. 
To  this  huge  antiquarian  preserve,  as  it  might  be  called,  with  its  va- 
ried legends,  my  brother  immediately  attached  himself  with  the  fervor 
of  a  first  love,  for  so  enduring  was  it  as  materially  to  tinge  the  rest 
of  his  existence. 

Patiently  ranging  up  one  close  and  down  another,  ascending  stairs, 
and  poking  into  obscure  courts,  he  took  note  of  carvings  over  door- 
ways, pondered  on  the  structure  of  old  gables  and  windows,  exam- 
ined risps — the  antique  mechanism  which  had  answered  the  purpose 
of  door-knockers — and  extending  the  scope  of  his  researches,  scarcely 
a  bit  of  Arthur's  Seat  or  the  Braid  Hills  was  left  unexplored.  The 
Borough-moor,  where  James  the  Fourth  marshaled  his  army  before 
marching  to  the  fatal  field  of  Flodden ;  the  "bore-stone,"  in  which, 
on  that  occasion,  was  planted  the  royal  standard, — 

"  The  staff,  a  pine-tree,  strong  and  straight, 
Pitched  deeply  in  a  massive  stone, 
Which  still  in  memory  is  shown, 

Yet  bent  beneath  the  standard's  weight 


596  ROBERT     AND     WILLIAM     CHAMBERS. 

Whene'er  the  western  wind  unrolled, 

With  toil,  the  huge  and  cumbrous  fold, 
And  gave  to  view  the  dazzling  field, 
Where  in  proud  Scotland's  royal  shield, 

The  ruddy  lion  ramped  in  gold." — Marmion. 

Royston,  where  the  Earl  of  Hertford  landed  with  an  English  army,  and 
proceeded  to  set  fire  to  and  destroy  Edinburgh ;  the  spot  at  the  Kirk 
of  Field,  where  Darnley  was  blown  up;  the  tomb  of  the  Earl  of 
Murray;  the  grassy  mounds  in  Bruntsfield  Links,  which  formed  the 
relics  of  Cromwell's  batteries  when  besieging  the  castle  after  the  vic- 
tory of  Dunbar;  the  grave-stone  in  the  Grayfriars  Churchyard,  on 
which,  in  1638,  was  signed  the  National  Covenant ;  the  adjoining  in- 
closure,  in  which,  for  a  time,  were  pent  up,  like  cattle,  the  cowd  of 
prisoners  taken  at  the  battle  of  Bothwell  Bridge ;  the  closed-up  post- 
ern of  the  castle  surmounting  the  precipitous  rocks  up  which  Claver- 
house,  Viscount  Dundee,  clambered  to  confer  with  the  governor  (and 
how  he  got  either  up  or  down  no  one  can  tell),  when  setting  out  for 
his  last  field,  Killiecrankie ;  these,  and  such  like  historical  memorials, 
became  all  familiar  to  my  brother  by  making  good  use  of  intervals 
that  could  be  spared  from  his  daily  attendance  at  the  academy. 

Though  only  twelve  months  had  elapsed  since  he  came  from  the 
country,  and  not  yet  fourteen  years  of  age,  he  already  possessed  a 
knowledge  of  things  concerning  the  old  city  and  its  romantic  history 
which  many,  it  may  be  supposed,  do  not  acquire  in  the  course  of 
a  lifetime.  While  most  other  youths,  his  school-mates,  gave  them- 
selves up  to  amusements  not  unbecoming  for  their  age,  his  recrea- 
tions had  all  in  them  something  of  the  nature  of  instruction.  And 
such  were  his  extraordinary  powers  of  memory,  that  whatever  he  saw 
or  learned,  he  never  forgot ;  every  thing  which  could  interest  the 
mind  being  treasured  up  as  a  fund  of  delightful  recollections,  ready 
to  be  of  service  when  wanted. 

At  the  academy  were  a  few  boys,  the  sons  of  citizens,  who  in- 
dulged in  fancies  not  unlike  his  own,  and  with  whom  he  formed  a 
lasting  friendship.  They  could  tell  legendary  stories  of  marvelous 
events  in  the  city  annals,  connected  with  reputed  wizzards,  noted  ec- 
centric characters,  and  remarkable  criminals,  to  which  he  listened 
with  avidity ;  as,  for  example,  the  story  of  Major  Weir,  who,  for  the 
commission  of  a  series  of  attrocities,  was  condemned  and  executed 
in  1670,  and  whose  house  in  the  West  Bow  enjoyed  the  reputation 
of  being  so  much  under  the  dominion  of  evil  spirits,  that  no  person 
would  live  in  it  for  more  than  a  hundred  years  afterwards ;  for  when 
any  family  made  the  attempt,  they  were  subject  to  such  an  extraor- 
dinary illusion  of  the  senses,  that  in  going  up  the  stair  they  felt  as 
if  they  were  going  down,  and  when  going  down,  that  they  were  going 
up.  Or  the  story  of  Deacon  Brodie,  a  man  moving  in  a  good  posi- 
tion, who,  having  long  secretly  carried  on  a  system  of  depredations, 
was  ultimately  condemned  and  executed  for  committing  a  burglary 


CLOSE  OF  EDUCATIONAL  CAREER.         597 

on  the  Excise  Office,  1788.  Or  the  still  more  curious  story  of  a  lad 
who,  while  under  sentence  of  death  in  the  Old  Tolbooth,  escaped 
by  a  clever  device  of  his  father,  and  lay  for  weeks  concealed  in  the 
mausoleum  of  the  "Bluidy  Mackenyie,"  where  he  was  secretly  sup- 
plied with  food  by  the  boys  of  Heriot's  Hospital,  till  he  escaped 
from  the  country.  Or  what  remained  still  a  matter  of  public  horror 
and  wonderment,  the  assassination  and  robbery  of  Begbie,  a  bank 
porter,  in  1806,  the  perpetrator  of  which  double  crime  had  never 
been  discovered,  notwithstanding  all  the  efforts  of  the  authorities. 

By  these  varied  means  in  his  early  youth,  in  the  midst  of  difficul- 
ties, Robert  laid  the  foundation  of  much  that  afterwards  assumed 
shape  in  literature,  although  at  the  time  he  was  only  satisfying  a 
natural  craving  for  what  was  traditionally  curious.  Looking  back  to 
the  days  when  we  lived  together  in  the  West  Port,  I  can  not  recol- 
lect that  he  ever  spent  a  moment  in  what  was  purely  amusing,  or  of 
no  practical  avail.  Nor  was  this  a  sacrifice.  The  acquisition  of 
knowledge  was  with  him  the  highest  of  earthly  enjoyments.  It  was 
well  for  him  that  he  had  these  soothing  resources.  What  his  trials 
were  at  this  time  may  be  learned  from  the  following  passages  in  a 
letter  written  by  him,  in  1829,  to  the  young  lady  to  whom  he  was 
shortly  afterwards  married : 

"  My  brother  William  and  I  lived  in  lodgings  together.  Our  room 
and  bed  cost  three  shillings  a  week.  It  was  in  the  West  Port,  near 
Burke's  place.  I  can  not  understand  how  I  should  ever  have  lived 
in  it.  The  woman  who  kept  the  lodgings  was  a  Peebles  woman,  who 
knew  and  wished  to  be  kind  to  us.  She  was,  however,  of  a  very 
narrow  disposition,  partly  the  result  of  poverty.  I  used  to  be  in  great 
distress  for  want  of  fire.  I  could  not  afford  either  that  or  candle 
myself.  So  I  have  often  sat  beside  her  kitchen  fire,  if  fire  it  could 
be  called,  which  was  only  a  little  heap  of  embers,  reading  Horace 
and  conning  my  dictionary  by  a  light  which  required  me  to  hold  the 
books  almost  close  to  the  grate.  What  a  miserable  winter  that  was ! 
Yet  I  can  not  help  feeling  proud  of  my  trials  at  that  time.  My 
brother  and  I — he  then  between  fifteen  and  sixteen,  I  between  thir- 
teen and  fourteen — had  made  a  resolution  together  that  we  would  ex- 
ercise the  last  degree  of  self-denial.  My  brother  actually  saved  money 
off  his  income.  I  remember  seeing  him  take  five-and-twenty  shil- 
lings out  of  a  closed  box  which  he  kept  to  receive  his  savings ;  and 
that  was  the  spare  money  of  only  a  twelvemonth.  I  dare  say  the 
Potterrow  itself  never  sheltered  two  divinity  students  of  such  absti- 
nent habits  as  ours.  My  father's  prospects  blackened  towards  the 
end  of  the  winter ;  and  even  the  small  cost  of  my  board  and  lodg- 
ing at  length  became  too  much  for  him.  I  then  for  some  time  spent 
the  night  at  Joppa  Pans,  and  regularly  every  morning  walked,  lame 
as  I  was,  to  Edinburgh  to  attend  school.  Through  all  these  dis- 
tresses, I  preserved  the  best  of  health,  though  perhaps  my  long  fasts 
at  so  critical  a  period  of  life  repressed  my  growth.  A  darker  period 


598  ROBERT     AND     WILLIAM    CHAMBERS. 

than  even  this  ensued ;  my  father  lost  his  situation,  and  I  was  with- 
drawn from  a  coursex>f  learning  which  it  was  seen  I  should  never 
be  able  to  complete." 

Such  is  a  fair  account  of  the  termination  of  Robert's  educational 
career.  Of  course  there  was  mourning  over  the  ruin  of  long-cherished 
hopes,  and  yet  the  circumstance  ought  in  reality  to  have  been  a 
cause  for  rejoicing.  I  greatly  doubt  if  my  brother  would,  according 
to  ordinary  expectations,  ever  have  excelled  as  a  clergyman.  He  was 
deficient  in  oratorical  qualities,  nor  did  he  possess  to  a  sufficient  de- 
gree that  self-possession  which  is  indispensable  to  a  successful  public 
speaker.  Nature  had  destined  him  to  wield  the  pen,  not  to  live  by 
exercise  of  the  tongue.  In  the  mean  while,  he  was  greatly  downcast. 
Returning  home,  his  privations  were  now  greater  than  my  own,  for 
they  were  aggravated  by  the  spectacle  of  domestic  troubles,  from 
which,  except  at  weekly  intervals,  I  was  happily  exempt. 

Depressed,  and  it  might  be  said  friendless,  with  only  his  Horace 
and  a  few  other  Latin  books,  over  which  he  would  pore  lovingly 
for  hours,  he  was  at  this  painful  juncture  not  unconscious  that  he 
should  make  some  sort  of  effort  at  self-reliance.  He  could  arrive  at 
no  other  conviction.  In  the  picturesque  language  of  the  Psalmist, 
his  "  kinsmen  stood  afar  off,"  a  circumstance  which  unhappily  roused 
feelings  much  more  bitter  than  any  experienced  in  my  own  less  deli- 
cately framed  mental  system. 

For  a  brief  space,  he  procured  a  little  private  teaching  at  Porto- 
bello.  Afterwards,  a  place  was  procured  for  him  in  the  counting- 
house  of  a  merchant,  who  resided  in  Pilrig  street,  situated  between 
Edinburgh  and  Leith ;  but  this  involved  a  journey  on  foot  to  and 
fro  daily  of  altogether  ten  miles,  with  the  poorest  possible  requital. 
At  the  end  of  six  months  this  employment  came  to  an  end,  and  for 
a  few  weeks  he  filled  a  similar  situation  in  Mitchell  street,  Leith. 
"  From  that  place,"  he  says  in  the  letter  above  referred  to,  "I  was 
discharged,  for  no  other  reason  that  I  can  think  of  but  that  my  em- 
ployer thought  me  too  stupid  to  be  likely  ever  to  do  him  any  good. 
I  was  now  in  the  miserable  situation  of  a  youth  betwixt  fifteen  and 
sixteen,  who,  having  passed  the  proper  period  without  acquiring  the 
groundwork  of  a  profession,  is  totally  hors  de  combat,  and  has  the 
prospect  of  evermore  continuing  so.  I  was  now,  however,  at  the 
bottom  of  the  wheel.  Now  came  the  time  to  rise.  You  have  already 
some  notion  of  my  self-denial  and  fortitude  of  mind.  Now  came 
the  time  to  exert  all  my  faculties. ' '  He  then  alludes  to  circumstances 
of  which  I  am  able  to  give  a  more  explicit  detail. 

At  this  dismal  period,  when,  as  he  says,  he  was  "at  the  bottom 
of  the  wheel,"  I  saw  him  only  on  Sundays,  and  it  was  on  such  occa- 
sions alone  that  we  had  an  opportunity  for  private  consultation.  On 
one  of  these  Sabbath  evenings,  we  sat  down  together  in  deep  cogita- 
tion, on  a  grassy  knoll  overlooking  the  Firth  and  the  distant  shores  of 
Fife.  The  scene,  placid  and  beautiful,  befitting  the  calm  which 


THE     OLD     BOOKS     ROBERT'S     START.  599 

seemed  appropriate  to  the  day  of  rest,  assorted  ill  with  the  pressure 
of  those  personal  necessities  that  demanded  immediate  and  far  from 
pleasant  consideration.  Jeremy  Taylor  has*  consolingly  remarked, 
that  "  there  is  no  man  but  hath  blessings  enough  in  present  possession 
to  outweigh  the  evils  of  a  great  affliction."  It  may  be  so.  I  have 
no  doubt  it  is  so.  How  the  blessings  are  to  be  recognized  and 
brought  into  practical  application  is  sometimes  the  difficulty.  In 
Robert's  case,  the  blessings  might  have  been  stated  as  consisting  of 
youth,  health,  a  fair  education,  moral  and  intellectual  culture,  and 
aspirations  which  embraced  an  earnest  resolution  to  outweigh,  by 
honest  industry,  the  misfortunes  into  which  he  had  been  plunged  by 
no  fault  of  his  own.  Evidently  all  depended  on  his  being  put  on 
the  right  path.  The  great  question  for  solution  was  what  he  should 
do,  not  only  for  his  own  subsistence,  but  to  disembarrass  the  family, 
in  which  he  acutely  felt  himself  to  be  in  the  light  of  an  incumbrance. 

This  was  the  critical  moment  that  determined  my  brother's  career. 
I  had  for  some  days  been  pondering  on  a  scheme  which  might  pos- 
sibly help  him  out  of  his  difficulties,  provided  he  laid  aside  all  ideas 
of  false  shame,  and  unhesitatingly  followed  my  directions.  The 
project  was  desperate,  but  nothing  short  of  desperate  measures  was 
available.  My  suggestion  was  that,  abandoning  all  notions  of  secur- 
ing employment  as  a  clerk,  teacher,  or  any  thing  else,  and  stifling 
every  emotion  which  had  hitherto  buoyed  him  up,  he  should,  in  the 
humblest  possible  style,  begin  the  business  of  a  bookseller.  The 
idea  of  such  an  enterprise  had  passed  through  his  own  mind,  but  had 
been  laid  aside  as  wild  and  ridiculous,  for  he  possessed  neither  stock 
nor  capital,  nor  could  he  have  recourse  to  any  one  to  lend  him  as- 
sistance. "I  have  thought  of  all  that,"  I  said,  "and  will  show  you 
how  the  thing  is  to  be  done."  I  now  explained  that  in  the  family 
household  there  were  still  a  number  of  old  books,  which  had  been 
dragged  about  from  place  to  place,  and  were  next  to  useless.  The 
whole,  if  ranged  on  a  shelf,  would  occupy  about  twelve  feet,  with 
perhaps  a  foot  additional  by  including  Horace  and  other  school-books. 
They  were  certainly  not  much  worth,  but,  if  offered  for  sale,  they 
might,  as  I  imagined,  form  the  foundation  on  which  a  business  could 
be  constructed.  I  added  that  there  was  at  the  time  an  opening  for 
the  sale  of  cheap  pocket  Bibles,  respecting  which  I  could  aid  by  my 
knowledge  of  the  trade,  and  even  go  the  length  of  starting  him  with 
one  or  two  copies  out  of  my  slender  savings. 

The  project  being  turned  over  and  over,  and  canvassed,  proved 
acceptable.  My  father,  so  far  from  having  any  objections,  assented 
to  the  scheme.  The  old  books,  Horace  and  all,  were  collected  and 
carried  off,  the  only  one  left  being  an  old  tattered  black-letter  Bible, 
of  the  date  1606,  that  had  been  in  the  family  for  two  hundred  years, 
and  which,  with  scribblings  on  the  blank  pages,  formed  a  kind  of 
register  of  births,  deaths,  and  marriages,  during  that  lengthened 
period.  Too  sacred  to  be  ruthlessly  made  an  article  of  commerce, 


600  ROBERT    AND     WILLIAM     CHAMBERS. 

it  was  fortunately  reserved,  and  in  due  time  became  my  only  patri- 
mony. 

With  the  few  old  books  so  collected,  Robert  began  business  in 
1818,  when  only  sixteen  years  of  age,  from  which  time  he  became 
self-supporting,  as  I  had  been  several  years  earlier.  I  should  have 
hesitated  to  mention  these  particulars  of  my  brother's  early  career, 
but  for  the  fact  of  his  having,  in  a  letter  to  his  friend,  Hugh  Miller, 
dated  March  i,  1854,  and  published  in  the  "Life  and  Letters"  of 
that  person  (1871),  given  an  account,  which,  as  a  candid  revelation 
of  his  own  feelings,  is  fully  more  painful. 

Writing  to  Miller,  he  says:  "Your  autobiography  has  set  me 
a-thinking  of  my  own  youthful  days,  which  were  like  yours  in  point 
of  hardship  and  humiliation,  though  different  in  many  important  cir- 
cumstances. My  being  of  the  same  age  with  you,  to  exactly  a  quarter 
of  a  year,  brings  the  idea  of  a  certain  parity  more  forcibly  upon  me. 
The  differences  are  as  curious  to  me  as  the  resemblances.  Notwith- 
standing your  wonderful  success  as  a  writer,  I  think  my  literary  ten- 
dency must  have  been  a  deeper  and  more  absorbing  peculiarity  than 
yours,  seeing  that  I  took  to  Latin  and  to  books  both  keenly  and  ex- 
clusively, while  you  broke  down  in  your  classical  course,  and  had 
fully  as  great  a  passion  for  rough  sport  and  enterprise  as  for  reading, 
that  being  again  a  passion  of  which  I  never  had  one  particle.  This 
has,  however,  resulted  in  making  you  what  I  never  was  inclined  to 
be,  a  close  observer  of  external  nature,  an  immense  advantage  in  your 
case.  Still  I  think  I  could  present  against  your  hardy  field  observa- 
tions by  firth  and  fell,  and  cave  and  cliff,  some  striking  analogies  in 
the  finding  out  and  devouring  of  books,  making  my  way,  for  instance, 
through  a  whole  chestful  of  the  'Encyclopaedia  Britannica,'  which  I 
found  in  a  lumber-garret.  I  must  also  say,  that  an  unfortunate  ten- 
derness of  feet,  scarcely  yet  got  over,  had  much  to  do  in  making  me 
mainly  a  fireside  student.  As  to  domestic  connections  and  conditions, 
mine,  being  of  the  middle  classes,  were  superior  to  yours  for  the  first 
twelve  years.  After  that,  my  father  being  unfortunate  in  business, 
we  were  reduced  to  poverty,  and  came  down  to  even  humbler  things 
than  you  experienced.  I  passed  through  some  years  of  the  direst 
hardship,  not  the  least  evil  being  a  state  of  feeling  quite  unnatural  in 
youth — a  stern  and  burning  defiance  of  a  social  world  in  which  we 
were  harshly  and  coldly  treated  by  former  friends,  differing  only  in 
external  respects  from  ourselves.  In  your  life  there  is  one  crisis 
where  I  think  your  experiences  must  have  been  somewhat  like  mine : 
it  is  the  brief  period  at  Inverness.  Some  of  your  expressions  there 
bring  all  my  own  early  feelings  again  to  life.  A  disparity  between 
the  internal  consciousness  of  powers  and  accomplishments  and  the 
external  ostensible  aspect,  led  in  me  to  the  very  same  wrong  methods 
of  setting  myself  forward  as  in  you.  There,  of  course,  I  meet  you 
in  warm  sympathy.  I  have  sometimes  thought  of  describing  my 
bitter,  painful  youth  to  the  world,  as  something  in  which  it  might 


LETTER     OF    ROBERT     TO     HUGH     MILLER.  6oi 

read  a  lesson;  but  the  retrospect  is  still  too  distressing.  I  screen 
it  from  the  mental  eye.  The  one  grand  fact  it  has  impressed  is 
the  very  small  amount  of  brotherly  assistance  thire  is  for  the  un- 
fortunate in  this  world.  .  .  .  Till  I  proved  that  I  could  help 
myself,  no  friend  came  to  me.  Uncles,  cousins,  etc.,  in  good  posi- 
tions in  life,  some  of  them  stoops  of  kirks,  by-the-by,  not  one  offered, 
or  seemed  inclined  to  give,  the  smallest  assistance.  The  consequent 
defying,  self-relying  spirit  in  which,  at  sixteen,  I  set  out  as  a  book- 
seller, with  only  my  own  small  collection  of  books  as  a  stock,  not 
worth  more  than  two  pounds,  I  believe,  led  to  my  being  quickly  in- 
dependent of  all  aid ;  but  it  has  not  been  all  a  gain,  for  I  am  now 
sensible  that  my  spirit  of  self-reliance  too  often  manifested  itself  in 
an  unsocial,  unamiable  light,  while  my  recollections  of  'honest  pov- 
erty '  may  have  made  me  too  eager  to  attain  and  secure  worldly  pros- 
perity. ' ' 

The  place  at  which  Robert  attempted  the  adventurous  project  of 
selling  the  wreck  of  the  family  library,  along  with  his  own  smalt 
parcel  of  school-books,  was  Leith  Walk,  where  a  shop  of  particularly 
humble  kind,  at  a  yearly  rent  of  six  pounds,  with  space  for  a  stall  in 
front,  was  procured  for  the  purpose.  The  situation  of  this  unpre- 
tending place  of  business  was  opposite  Pilrig  avenue.  Here  he  may 
be  said  to  have  set  up  house,  for,  provided  with  a  few  articles  of 
furniture,  and  exercising  a  rigorous  frugality,  he  lived  in  his  very 
limited  establishment.  To  keep  him  company,  and  aid  by  my  pro- 
fessional advice,  as  well  as  to  lessen  his  expenses,  I  went  to  reside 
with  him,  quitting,  with  my  blue-painted  box,  my  quarters  in  the 
West  Port,  to  which  I  had  no  reason  to  feel  special  attachment.  The 
time  was  near  at  hand  when  I  would  myself  have  to  appear  in  a  new 
character. 

BEGINNING   BUSINESS — 1819   TO    l82I. 

Late  on  Saturday  evening  in  May,  1819,  my  apprenticeship  came 
to  a  close,  and  I  walked  away  with  five  shillings  in  my  pocket — to 
which  sum  my  weekly  wages  had  been  latterly  and  considerately 
advanced.  My  employer,  to  do  him  every  justice,  offered  to  retain 
me  as  assistant  at  a  reasonable  salary;  but  I  liked  as  little  to  remain 
as  to  try  my  luck  elsewhere  as  a  subordinate.  Whether  influenced 
by  my  father's  harangues  about  independence,  or  by  my  own  natural 
instincts,  I  had  formed  the  resolution  to  be  my  own  master,  and  con- 
cluded that  the  sooner  I  was  so  the  better.  And  so,  at  nineteen 
years  of  age,  I  was  left  to  my  shifts. 

The  exploit  was  somewhat  hazardous,  and  unless  on  special  grounds, 
I  would  not  recommend  it  to  be  followed.  Society  is  composed  of 
employers  and  employed.  All  can  not  be  masters.  The  employed 
may  happen  to  be  the  best  off  of  the  two;  at  all  events,  they  are 
burdened  with  less  responsibility.  My  resolution,  therefore,  to  fight 


602  ROBERT    AND     WILLIAM     CHAMBERS. 

my  way,  inch  by  inch,  entirely  on  my  own  account,  was,  I  acknowl- 
edge, an  eccentricity.  Yet,  who  can  lay  down  any  precise  rule  on 
this  point?  Looking  at  all  available  circumstances,  every  one  must 
think  for  himself,  and  take  the  consequences.  In  the  ordinary  view 
of  affairs,  my  prospects  were  not  particularly  cheering.  Exclusive 
of  the  five  shillings  in  my  pocket,  I  was  without  any  pecuniary  reli- 
ance whatsoever.  There  were,  however,  some  things  in  my  favor. 
As  in  my  brother's  case,  I  had  youth,  health,  hope,  resolution,  and 
was  as  free  from  expensive  habits  and  tastes  as  from  any  species  of 
embarrassing  obligation.  There  was  nothing  to  keep  me  back,  un- 
less it  might  be  the  comparatively  narrow  scope  for  individual  exer- 
tion in  our  northern  capital.  At  that  time,  however,  I  knew  nothing 
personally  of  London  and  its  illimitable  field  of  operation.  The 
best  had  to  be  made  of  what  was  within  reach.  Fortunately,  I  con- 
tinued still  to  have  no  acquaintances  whom  it  was  necessary  to  con- 
sult ;  had  no  giddy  companions,  who  would  have  been  ready  enough 
to  jeer  me  out  of  schemes  of  humble  self-reliance.  I  had  no  dread 
of  losing  caste,  because  I  had  no  artificial  position  to  lose;  and  as 
for  losing  self-respect,  that  entirely  depends  on  conduct  and  the 
motives  by  which  it  is  influenced.  It  will  be  seen  that  I  was  not 
without  the  kind  of  ambition  which  is  indispensable- to  success.  On 
that  very  account,  I  treated  all  immediate  difficulties,  or  humiliations, 
as  of  no  moment. 

Circumstances  occurred  to  get  me  over  the  first  step,  which  is 
always  the  most  difficult.  The  success  of  my  brother  in  his  enter- 
prise pointed  out  a  line  of  business  that  might  with  advantage  be  fol- 
lowed. As  Leith  Walk  happens  to  be  identified  in  an  amusing  way 
with  his  as  well  as  my  own  early  career,  I  may  say  a  few  words  re- 
specting it,  although  at  the  risk  of  telling  what  may  be  generally 
known. 

Leith  Walk  is  to  Edinburgh  what  the  City  Road  is  to  London,  a 
broad  kind  of  Boulevard  stretching  a  mile  in  length  to  the  seaport, 
and  constantly  used  as  a  thoroughfare  by  merchants,  clerks,  strangers, 
and  seafaring  people.  In  the  early  years  of  the  present  century,  it 
was  the  daily  resort  of  a  multiplicity  of  odd-looking  dependents  on 
public  charity — such  as  old  blind  fiddlers,  seated  by  the  wayside ;  sailors 
deficient  in  a  leg  or  an  arm,  with  long  queues  hanging  down  their  backs, 
who  were  always  singing  ballads  about  sea-fights ;  and  cripples  of  vari- 
ous sorts,  who  contrived  to  move  along  in  wooden  bowls,  or  in  low- 
wheeled  vehicles  drawn  by  dogs ;  all  which  personages  reckoned  on 
reaping  a  harvest  of  coppers  in  the  week  of  Leith  races,  that  great  an- 
nual festival  of  the  gamins  of  Edinburgh,  which  has  been  commemo- 
rated in  the  humorous  verses  of  Robert  Fergusson.  Besides  its  hosts  of 
mendicants,  the  Walk  was  garnished  with  small  shops  for  the  sale  of 
shells,  corals,  and  other  foreign  curiosities.  It  was  also  provided  with 
a  number  of  petty  public  houses;  but  its  greatest  attraction  was  a 
show  of  wax-work,  at  the  entrance  of  which  sat  the  figure  of  an  old 


WHERE    THEY     BEGAN     BUSINESS.  603 

gentleman  in  a  court-dress,  intently  reading  a  newspaper,  which, 
without  turning  over  the  leaves,  had  occupied  him  for  the  last  ten 
years.  ' 

The  oddest  thing  about  the  Walk,  however,  was  an  air  of  preten- 
sion singularly  inconsistent  with  the  reality.  The  sign-boards  offered 
a  study  of  the  definite  article — The  Comb  Manufactory,  The  Chair 
Manufactory,  The  Marble  Work,  and  so  forth,  appearing  on  the  fronts 
of  buildings  of  the  most  trumpery  character.  At  the  time  I  became 
acquainted  with  the  Walk,  it  owned  few  edifices  that  were  much 
worth.  Here  and  there,  with  intervening  patches  of  nursery  grounds 
and  gardens,  there  was  a  detached  villa  or  a  row  of  houses  with 
flower-pots  in  front,  in  one  of  which  rows,  called  Springfield,  in  the 
house  of  his  friend  Mr.  M'Culloch  of  Ardwell,  the  English  humorist, 
Samuel  Foote,  used  to  dine  on  his  visits  to  Edinburgh.*  But  the 
majority  of  the  buildings  were  of  a  slight  fabric  of  brick  and  plaster, 
with  tiled  roofs,  as  if  the  whole  were  removable  at  a  day's  notice. 
There  being  no  edifices,  however  mean  and  inconvenient,  which  do 
not  find  inhabitants,  these  frail  tenements  were  in  demand  by  a 
needy  order  of  occupants,  whose  ultimate  limit  in  the  article  of  rent 
was  ten  to  twelve  pounds  a  year — fifteen  a  little  beyond  the  thing, 
twenty  not  to  be  thought  of. 

It  was  one  of  these  temporary  and  unattractive  buildings,  situated, 
as  has  been  said,  opposite  Pilrig  avenue,  that  had  been  rented  by  my 
brother,  and  it  was  there  I  joined  him  in  housekeeping,  with  nothing 
to  keep  but  the  disconsolate  walls  and  about  ten  shillings'  worth  of 
furniture,  along  with  a  bed  of  very  insignificant  value.  In  1819, 
Robert  had  to  quit,  in  consequence  of  the  proprietor  making  repairs 
on  the  row  of  buildings,  and  he  removed  about  a  hundred  yards  fur- 
ther down  the  walk.  The  alterations  on  Gile's  Buildings,  as  they 
were  called,  had  just  been  made  when  I  stood  in  need  of  a  place  of 
business,  and  I  rented  one  pretty  nearly  on  the  spot  which  my  brother 
had  vacated.  The  changes  that  had  been  made  partook  of  the  usual 
character  of  the  neighborhood — shabby  pretension.  The  proprietor, 
a  builder  in  Edinburgh,  had  accumulated  a  number  of  old  shop  doors 
and  windows,  which,  dismissed  as  unfashionable,  gave  a  genteel  finish 
to  the  new  fronts  that  were  stuck  up  along  the  row  of  mean  brick 
edifices.  Here  I  procured  a  place  of  moderate  dimensions,  for  which 
I  was  to  pay  an  annual  rent  of  ten  pounds. 

Without  stock,  capital,  or  shop  furniture,  my  attempt  at  beginning 
business  would  almost  seem  like  trying  to  make  something  out  of 

*  The  intimacy  of  Foote  and  a  land-proprietor  in  the  stewartry  of  Kirkcudbright 
will  seem  a  little  unaccountable.  The  friendship  accidentally  began  by  both  being 
detained  as  travelers  during  a  protracted  snow-storm,  first  in  an  inn  at  Moffat,  and 
afterwards  at  the  Crook,  in  the  winter  of  1744-45.  They  were  detained  no  less  than 
twenty  days  altogether  in  effecting  a  journey  from  Moffat  to  Edinburgh,  which  may 
now  be  performed  in  about  two  hours.  A  daughter  of  M'Culloch  was  married  to 
Thomas  Scott,  brother  of  Sir  Walter. 


604  ROBERT    AND    WILLIAM     CHAMBERS. 

nothing.  I  admit,  the*  problem  was  difficult  of  solution.  In  one  re- 
spect, it  was  fortunate  in  the  way  of  example  that  Robert  had  begun 
first,  but  in  another  it  was  a  disadvantage.  In  setting  up  he  had 
cleared  my  father's  house  of  all  its  old  books,  which,  though  not 
many  in  number,  or  of  great  value,  still  bore  bulk  so  far,  and  giving 
a  face  to  things,  served  for  a  not  positively  bad  beginning.  Coming 
later  into  the  field,  nothing  was  left  for  me  to  lay  hands  on  in  the 
like  predatory  fashion.  I  should  doubtless,  as  a  last  resource,  have 
procured  a  portion  of  Robert's  stock  of  books,  which,  in  the  course 
of  a  year,  had  increased  by  his  industry  to  be  worth  about  twelve 
pounds,  but  by  a  remarkably  happy  turn  of  events,  I  did  not  need  to 
encroach  on  his  painfully  accumulated  property. 

During  the  first  week  of  my  freedom,  there  arrived  in  Edinburgh 
a  traveling  agent  for  an  enterprising  publisher  in  London.  He  had 
come  to  exhibit  to  the  Scottish  booksellers  specimens  of  cheap  edi- 
tions of  standard  and  popular  works.  Until  within  a  short  time  pre- 
viously, editions  of  the  works  of  Johnson,  Gibbon,  Robertson,  Blair, 
Hume  and  Smollett,  Burns,  and  other  standard  writers,  had  been  a 
monopoly  of  certain  publishers,  who  united  to  publish  them,  and 
gave  them  the  imposing  name  of  "Trade  Editions."  Long  out  of 
copyright,  these  works  were  public  property,  and  could  legally  be 
printed  and  issued  by  any  one,  but  not  until  now  had  any  one  had 
the  audacity  and  enterprise  to  disregard  the  assumed  etiquette  of  the 
profession,  and  print  and  sell  editions  on  his  own  account.  In  dar- 
ing to  break  down  this  monopoly,  the  publisher  I  refer  to  encoun- 
tered some  abuse,  which,  however,  did  not  deter  him  in  his  operations. 
His  editions,  as  a  rule,  were  not  so  highly  finished  as  those  issued 
under  the  auspices  of  the  trade ;  but  as  they  were  sold  at  about  half 
the  price,  they  were  correspondingly  appreciated  by  that  portion  of 
the  book-buying  world  who  are  not  scrupulously  nice  as  to  typograph- 
ical elegance. 

This  active  personage,  well-known  in  Cheapside,  had  another  and 
quite  as  successful  a  branch  of  business.  It  consisted  in  purchasing, 
wholesale,  the  remainders  of  editions  which  hung  on  the  hands  of 
publishers,  and  of  issuing  copies  at  a  cheap  price  under  new  attrac- 
tions, such  as  a  portrait  frontispiece  and  a  flashy  exterior,  by  which 
means  two  important  ends  were  served :  the  shelves  of  the  publishers 
were  relieved  of  much  dead  stock,  and  the  public  was  satisfied. 

It  was  the  agent  of  this  enterprising  tradesman  who,  by  a  singular 
accident,  fell  in  my  way.  In  concluding  his  business  tour,  he  had 
arrived  in  Edinburgh  to  hold  a  trade-sale  previous  to  proceeding  to 
London.  A  trade-sale,  as  it  may  be  known,  comprehends  a  dinner 
at  some  noted  tavern.  A  large  number  of  booksellers  are  invited  to 
attend,  and  immediately  after  the  cloth  is  withdrawn,  and  the  wine 
decanters  put  in  circulation,  the  sale  begins.  All  the  guests  are  pro- 
vided with  catalogues  of  the  books  for  disposal,  and  as  each  work  is 
offered  in  turn  at  a  specified  price,  copies  are  handed  about  as  speci- 


.WILLIAM'S    START    IN     BUSINESS.  605 

mens.  The  inducement  to  make  purchases  is  a  certain  reduction  on 
the  ordinary  allowance,  and,  in  addition,  thirteen  copies  are  usually- 
given  for  the  price  of  twelve.  At  the  period  to  which  I  am  referring, 
trade- sales  of  this  festive  description  were  more  common  than  they 
are  in  these  sober-minded  days,  and  at  them  such  large  quantities  of 
books  were  ordinarily  disposed  of,  that  the  seller,  who  acted  as  host, 
and  sat  at  the  top  of  the  table,  did  not  find  occasion  to  grudge  the 
expense  of  the  entertainment.  The  business  was  conducted  with  a 
blending  of  fun  and  conviviality.  There  was  occasionally  a  toast, 
with  the  honors,  as  an  interlude,  and  it  was  not  unusual  for  one  or 
two  of  the  guests  to  be  called  on  for  a  song. 

The  sale  on  the  present  occasion  took  place  in  the  Lord  Nelson 
Hotel,  Adam  Square.  The  agent  in  charge  requiring  some  one  ac- 
quainted with  the  handling  and  arranging  of  books,  previous  to  the 
dinner,  heard  of  me  from  a  bookseller  as  being  unemployed  and  likely 
to  suit  his  purpose.  I  agreed  to  assist  him  as  far  as  was  in  my  power, 
and  did  so  without  any  notion  of  requital. 

The  trade-sale  was  well  attended,  and  went  of  with  uncommon  eclat. 
Mr.  Robert  Miller,  of  Manners  and  Miller,  told  his  drollest  anecdotes, 
whistled  tunes  with  the  delicacy  of  a  flageolet,  and  sung  his  best 
songs  as  few  men  can  sing  them.  There  was  a  large  sale  effected ; 
for  it  was  the  first  time  that  a  variety  of  standard  works  had  been 
offered  at  considerably  reduced  prices.  On  the  day  succeeding  this 
bibliopolic  festival,  I  attended  to  assist  in  packing  up,  in  the  course 
of  which  I  was  questioned  regarding  my  plans.  I  stated  to  the  friendly 
inquirer  that  I  was  about  to  begin  business,  but  that  I  had  no  money ; 
if  I  had,  I  should  take  the  opportunity  of  buying  a  few  of  his  speci- 
mens, for  I  thought  I  could  sell  them  to  advantage.  "Well,"  he 
replied,  "I  like  that  frankness;  you  seem  an  honest  lad,  and  have 
been  useful  to  me ;  so  do  not  let  the  want  of  money  trouble  you  : 
select,  if  you  please,  ten  pounds'  worth  of  my  samples,  and  I  will  let 
you  have  the  usual  credit." 

That  was  a  turn-point  in  my  life.  In  a  strange  and  unforseen  man- 
ner, I  was  to  be  put  in  possession  of  a  small  collection  of  salable 
books,  sufficient  to  establish  me  in  business.  Gladly  embracing  the 
offer,  I  selected  a  parcel  of  books  great  and  small,  to  the  value  of 
ten  pounds,  which  I  proceeded  to  pack  into  an  empty  tea-chest,  and 
carry  off  without  incurring  the  aid  or  expense  of  a  porter.  Borrow- 
ing the  hotel  truck,  I  wheeled  the  chest  to  my  shop  in  Leith  Walk, 
elated,  it  may  be  supposed,  in  no  ordinary  degree  at  this  fortunate 
incident,  and  not  the  least  afraid  of  turning  the  penny  long  before 
the  day  of  payment  came  round. 

Though  furnished  in  this  extraordinary  manner  with  a  stock,  I  was 
still  unprovided  with  any  kind  of  fixtures,  such  as  counter  or  shelv- 
ing. But  this  deficiency  gave  me  little  concern.  It  was  not  my 
design  to  sell  books  inside  a  shop.  That,  I  knew,  would  never  do. 
My  plan,  like  that  of  my  brother  and  also  many  illustrious  predeces- 


606  ROBERT    AND     WILLIAM     CHAMBERS. 

f 

sors,  was  to  expose  my  wares  on  a  stall  outside  the  door.  I  had 
years  previously  read  the  "Autobiography  of  James  Lackington," 
who  mentions  that  he  began  business  as  a  bookseller  in  1774,  the 
whole  of  his  stock  of  old  books,  laid  out  on  a  stall,  not  amounting 
to  five  pounds  in  value;  that  in  1792,  when  he  retired  into  private 
life,  the  profits  of  his  business  amounted  to  5,ooo/.  a  year;  and  that 
he  had  realized  all  he  was  possessed  of  by  "  small  profits,  bound  by 
industry  and  clasped  by  economy."  I  could  not  possibly  expect  to 
reach  any  thing  like  this  marvelous  success  of  Lackington,  but  at  any 
rate  there  was  an  example  offered  in  his  small  beginning,  which  it 
was  my  resolution  to  follow. 

I  spent  little  time  in  preliminary  arrangements.  With  the  five 
shillings  which  I  had  received  as  my  last  week's  wages,  I  purchased 
a  few  deals  from  a  neighboring  woodyard,  and  from  these,  with  a 
saw,  hammer,  and  nails,  I  soon  constructed  all  the  shop  furniture 
which  I  required  ;  the  most  essential  articles  being  a  pair  of  stout 
trestles,  on  which  was  laid  a  board,  whereupon  to  exhibit  my  wares 
to  the  public.  With  these  simple  appliances,  I  am  to  be  supposed 
as  beginning  business  one  day  in  June,  when,  the  weather  happening 
to  be  fine,  I  had  the  satisfaction  of  making  several  sales.  Daily,  the 
contents  of  my  small  establishment  disappeared,  and  I  was  able  to 
introduce  variety  by  buying  lots  of  second-hand  books  at  the  nightly 
auctions,  which  I  regularly  attended  with  my  brother.  As  regards 
the  account  I  had  incurred,  I  discharged  it  in  the  due  course  of" 
business,  and  for  some  time  continued  to  order  and  pay  for  regular 
supplies.  Within  six  months,  the  first  and  most  critical  part  of  my 
struggle  was  over.  In  a  small  way,  I  may  be  considered  as  having 
been  fairly  established. 

By  studying  to  sell  cheaply,  my  profits  in  the  aggregate  were  not 
great :  but  along  with  Robert,  I  lived  frugally,  incurred  no  unneces- 
sary expenses,  and  all  that  was  over  I  laid  out  in  adding  to  my 
stock.  As  my  sales  were  to  a  large  extent  new  books  in  boards,  I 
felt  that  the  charge  made  for  the  boarding  of  them  was  an  item  that 
pressed  rather  heavily  upon  me.  Why,  thought  I,  should  I  not  buy 
the  books  in  sheets,  and  put  them  in  boards  myself?  It  is  true,  I 
had  not  been  taught  the  art  of  bookbinding,  but  I  had  seen  it  executed 
in  my  frequent  visits  to  bookbinder's  workshop,  and  was  confident 
that  if  I  had  the  proper  apparatus  I  could  at  least  put  books  in 
boards;  for  that  was  but  a  rudimentary  department  of  the  craft. 
The  articles  available  for  the  purpose  at  length  fell  in  my  way. 
After  this,  I  procured  my  books  in  sheets,  which  I  forthwith  folded, 
sewed,  and  otherwise  prepared  to  my  satisfaction,  thereby  saving  on 
an  average  threepence  to  fourpence  a  volume,  my  only  outlay  being 
on  the  material  employed ;  for  my  labor  was  reckoned  as  nothing. 

In  this  droll  scheming  way,  I  tried  to  make  the  best  of  my  lot.  The 
condition  of  the  weather  was  an  important  element  of  consideration.  In 
fine  days,  the  Walk  was  thronged  with  foot-passengers,  a  number  of 


THE     BOOKSTALL     AND     DR.     JOHNSON.  607 

whom  found  some  recreation  in  lounging  for  a  few  minutes  over  my 
stall.  If  there  was  a  prospect  of  rain,  they  hurried  on  ;  and  when  it 
became  determinedly  wet,  business  was  over  -for  the  day.  I  might 
as  well  bring  in  my  books  at  once,  and  try  to  find  something  to  do 
indoors.  When  the  stall  was  not  in  operation,  sales  were  almost  at 
a  stand-still.  Hundreds,  I  found,  as  Lackington  had  done  before 
me,  would  buy  books  from  a  stall,  who  would  not  purchase  them 
equally  cheap  in  a  shop.  The  advantageous  peculiarity  of  the  stall 
is,  that  it  secures  those  who  have  formed  no  deliberate  intention  to 
buy.  Lying  invitingly  with  their  backs  upward,  the  books  on  a 
stall  solicit  just  as  much  attention  as  you  are  pleased  to  give  them. 
You  may  look  at  them,  or  let  them  alone.  You  may,  as  if  by  chance, 
take  up  and  set  down  volume  after  volume  without  getting  com- 
promised. The  bookseller,  however,  is  perfectly  aware  of  what  is 
likely  to  ensue.  When  he  observes  that  the  lounger  over  his  stall  is 
not  satisfied  with  a  casual  glance,  but  goes  on  examining  book 
after  book,  he  is  pretty  certain  there  is  to  be  a  purchase.  Con- 
tinued inspection  excites  an  interest  in  the  mind.  There  is  perhaps 
no  intention  at  first  to  buy,  but  gradually  the  feelings  are  warmed 
up,  and  it  is  then  scarcely  possible  to  resist  asking  the  price  of 
some  book  which  more  particularly  strikes  the  fancy.  Asking  the 
price  is  equivalent  to  passing  the  Rubicon.  After  that,  the  desire 
for  purchasing  becomes  nearly  irresistible.  Going  into  shops  to 
buy  books  in  cold  blood  is  quite  a  different  thing.  Before  entering, 
there  must  in  general  be  a  distinct  intention  to  purchase. 

Stall-keepers  of  all  varieties  know  the  value  of  the  obtrusive  prin- 
ciple; and  it  may  be  doubted  if  the  modern  shop  system  is  in  most 
cases  an  improvement  on  the  old  practice  of  exposing  wares  in  open 
booths  along  the  sides  of  the  thoroughfare.  The  original  Stationarii, 
who  exposed  their  books  at  the  gateways  of  universities,  immediately 
after  the  invention  of  printing,  what  were  they  but  stall-keepers  ? 
Did  not  also  many  booksellers  of  good  repute  last  century  set  up 
stalls  for  the  sale  of  their  wares  on  market-days  ?  One  does  not  read 
without  interest  the  anecdote  of  Michael  Johnson,  bookseller  at  Lich- 
field,  who,  being  unable  from  illness  to  set  up  his  stall  as  usual  at 
Uttoxeter,  requested  his  son  Samuel  to  do  so  in  his  stead,  which  re- 
quest was  refused,  from  a  feeling  of  false  pride ;  and  how  this  act  of 
filial  disobedience,  having  preyed  in  after  life  on  the  morbidly  sus- 
ceptible mind  of  the  great  lexicographer,  he,  by  way  of  expiation, 
went  to  Uttoxeter  on  a  market-day,  and  stood  in  a  drenching  rain 
on  the  site  of  his  father's  stall,  amidst  the  jeering  remarks  of  the 
bystanders.  There  is  something,  therefore,  like  a  classic  authority 
for  book-stalls.  They  remind  us  of  the  infancy  of  printed  literature 
and  the  usages  of  an  olden  time. 

The  Walk  offered  uncommon  facilities  for  the  traffic  in  which  I 
was  engaged.  Long  stretches  of  the  foot  way,  from  thirty  to  forty 
feet  wide,  admitted  of  stalls  being  set  outside  the  doors  without  ob- 


608  ROBERT    AND     WILLIAM     CHAMBERS. 

structing  the  thoroughfare.  Some  might  think  that  they  were  an  at- 
traction to  what  was  otherwise  a  pleasant  promenade.  The  book- 
stalls were  four  in  number — those  belonging  to  my  brother  and  myself, 
and  two  others.  They  were  all  situated  on  the  shady  side  of  the 
road,  forming  at  proper  distances  from  each  other  a  series  of  literary 
lures,  likely  to  be  visited  en  suite.  Interesting  from  the  diversity  of 
their  wares,  they  to  a  certain  extent  were  mutually  helpful.  There 
was  nothing  like  a  feeling  of  rivalry  among  us.  Accustomed  to  dis- 
cuss professional  matters,  we  were  able  to  cultivate  a  few  jocularities 
as  a  seasoning  to  a  too  frequent  dullness.  We  learned  how.  to  dis- 
tinguish habitual  nibblers,  who  never  bought,  but  only  gave  trouble, 
from  those  on  whom  we  could  reasonably  reckon  for  a  purchase,  and 
knew  how  to  act  accordingly.  The  stall  offered  a  study  of  character. 
There  was  not  a  little  perversity  or  stupidity  to  be  amused  with. 
Some  stall  frequenters  would  buy  nothing  but  books  which  had  been 
used.  Defective  in  judgment,  they  could  not  imagine  the  possibility 
of  getting  a  new  book  as  cheaply  as  an  old  one.  The  stall-keepers 
on  the  Walk  found  it  necessary  to  humor  purchasers  of  this  sort.  It 
was  not  difficult  to  do  so;  they  had  only  to  cut  up  the  leaves,  and 
soil  the  outside  of  a  book,  in  order  to  make  it  thoroughly  acceptable. 

With  all  the  diligence  that  could  be  exercised,  there  was  little 
scope  for  expansion  in  my  small  trade.  With  every  effort,  time  hung 
heavy  on  my  hands.  I  fretted  at  inaction.  To  relieve  the  monotony 
of  the  long,  dull  hours  during  bad  weather,  I  took  to  copying  poems 
and  various  prose  trifles  in  a  fine  species  of  penmanship,  in  the  hope 
of  selling  them  for  albums.  It  was  assuredly  a  weak  resource,  but 
what  could  I  do?  If  I  spent  days  over  the  manufacture  of  a  few 
verses,  which  sold  for  only  a  single  shilling,  it  was  employment,  bet- 
ter than  sitting  vaguely  idle. 

The  notion  of  attempting  to  write  in  a  style  closely  resembling 
the  delicate  print-like  lettering  on  copperplate  engravings  occurred 
to  me  two  or  three  years  previously.  A  retired  naval  officer  in 
poor  circumstances  had  written  an  account  of  his  captivity  in 
France  during  the  war,  and  raffled  it  for  five  pounds.  The  pen- 
manship was  exceedingly  elegant,  and  I  felt  desirous  to  attempt 
something  that  might  prove  equally  tasteful.  From  time  to  time,  I 
made  attempts  at  imitation,  but  never  came  up  to  the  original.  I 
had,  however,  acquired  a  facility  in  the  art.  The  work  was  executed 
with  a  finely  pointed  crow-pen  on  smooth  paper,  ruled  with  lines 
for  the  purpose,  and  cost  prodigious  care  and  patience,  because  any 
blunder  would  have  been  fatal.  Occupying  any  spare  hours  when 
the  stall  could  not  be  put  out,  and  poring  over  a  desk,  I  was  able 
to  realize  a  few  shillings  by  these  laborious  transcriptions.  What 
was  of  much  greater  value,  these  little  pieces  of  penmanship  helped 
to  bring  me  more  into  notice,  and  to  procure  me  the  friendship  of 
some  estimable  persons. 

A  gentleman  who  happened  to  see  one  of  my  specimens  of  calli- 


IMPORTANCE     OF     CIVILITY.  609 

graphy,  was  pleased  to  think  better  of  it  than  it  deserved,  and  without 
solicitation  patronized  my  humble  business  establishment.  He  was 
about  to  be  married,  and  wished  to  procure  a  quantity  of  books  of  a 
superior  kind,  in  the  finest  bindings,  for  his  library.  One  day,  he 
called  to  inquire  as  to  the  practicability  of  my  supplying  his  wants. 
Satisfied  with  the  information,  he  gave  an  order  of  such  magnitude 
as  astonished  me,  and  raised  serious  doubts  as  to  how,  with  my  mis- 
erable resources,  it  was  to  be  executed.  Apprehending  some  diffi- 
culty on  this  score,  he  relieved  all  anxieties  by  stating  that  I  should 
bring  the  books  in  parcels  from  time  to  time,  and  that  each  parcel 
would  be  paid  for  on  delivery. 

This  fortunate  transaction  gave  me  a  lift  onward,  and  stimulated 
to  new  efforts.  The  fact  that  I  had  been  unexpectedly  benefited  in  a 
large  degree  by  a  gentleman  seeing  one  of  my  small  pieces  of  pen- 
manship, suggests  the  reflection,  that  in  business,  as  in  human  affairs 
generally,  incidents  which  are  seemingly  insignificant  often  lead  to 
important  results.  Young  men  are  apt  to  treat  what  appears  a  small 
matter  with  indifference,  if  not  disdain,  without  being  conscious  that 
in  commerce  nothing  is  small  or  to  be  passed  over  as  of  no  moment. 
I  once  heard  a  merchant  who  had  risen  to  great  wealth  say,  that  civil- 
ity in  serving  a  woman  in  humble  circumstances,  with  a  pennyworth 
of  tape,  had  led,  by  a  remarkable  chain  of  circumstances  to  dealings 
to  the  extent  of  hundreds  of  pounds.  In  my  own  case,  as  just  stated, 
a  small  piece  of  transcription  with  a  crow-pen  had,  by  an  unforeseen 
current  of  events,  terminated  in  a  manner  much  more  advantageous 
than  I  had  any  reason  to  expect. 

The  progress  I  had  made  during  the  first  year  rendered  it  expe- 
dient to  procure  an  enlargement  of  my  premises.  This  being  effected, 
I  was  able  to  appropriate  a  small  back-room  as  a  dwelling,  so  as  to 
be  near  my  work ;  the  furniture  as  meager  as  might  be,  for  I  could 
not  indulge  in  the  luxury  of  a  carpet,  and  was  fain  to  inclose  my 
bed  with  a  drapery  of  brown  paper  in  place  of  curtains.  1  was  also 
enabled  in  various  ways  to  extend  my  business  operations,  and  ac- 
commodate those  who  did  me  the  honor  to  call.  Among  these  vis- 
itors were  several  literary  aspirants  who  hung  about  the  outskirts  of 
society.  Few  are  aware  of  the  great  number  of  poets  in  Scotland. 
Those  whose  names  become  generally  known  are  insignificant  in  num- 
ber to  the  host  who  are  never  heard  of  beyond  the  limited  locality 
in  which  they  move.  My  brother's  and  my  own  literary  tastes,  to 
say  nothing  of  our  connection  with  books,  made  us  acquainted  with 
several  poets  of  this  order.  Among  these,  the  oddest  was  an  aged 
shoemaker,  who,  deserting  his  last,  had  taken  to  the  writing  of  poems 
and  dramas.  His  standard  production  was  "The  Battle  of  Lun- 
carty,"  which  his  admirers  thought  "almost"  as  good  as  Shakes- 
peare. William  Knox,  the  author  of  "The  Lonely  Hearth  and 
other  Poems,"  was  a  gentle  enthusiast  of  a  different  stamp,  but  suc- 

39 


6lO  ROBERT     AND     WILLIAM     CHAMBERS. 

cumbed   at  an  early  age  to  what  were  mildly  termed  his   "genial 
propensities." 

We  were  more  happy  in  knowing  intimately  Robert  Gilfillan,  still 
a  young  man,  writer  of  some  pleasing  and  popular  Scottish  songs, 
who  had  been  bred  in  Leith  as  an  apprentice  to  a  grocer,  and  had 
therefore  undergone  that  routine  of  duties  which  I  had  narrowly 
escaped.  He  was  a  person  of  amiable  temperament,  simple  in  habits, 
with  whom  it  was  a  pleasure  to  interchange  courtesies.  I  may  say 
the  same  of  Henry  Scott  Riddell,  who  was  numbered  among  our 
early  friends,  and  has  left  some  singularly  touching  lyrics  and  other 
pieces. 

There  was  still  another  of  these  geniuses,  John  C.  Denovan,  an 
excitable  being,  who  lived  in  a  world  of  romance  strangely  at  vari- 
ance with  his  actual  circumstances.  I  first  knew  Denovan  when  he 
was  a  porter  to  a  tea-dealer  at  the  foot  of  Leith  Street  Terrace,  di- 
rectly opposite  the  spot  where  I  had  been  an  apprentice.  He  was 
the  child  of  misfortune.  His  father  had  procured  for  him  the  posi- 
tion of  midshipman,  in  which  capacity  he  made  a  single  voyage  and 
acquired  notions  of  life  at  sea.  Then  he  was  somehow  deserted,  and 
left  to  his  shifts  with  his  mother,  a  poor  abject  being,  to  whom  he 
stuck  to  the  last.  In  his  reduced  condition,  he  acquitted  himself 
honestly,  but  his  wayward  fancies  did  not  square  with  the  difficulties 
with  which  he  had  to  struggle.  He  was  always  overflowing  with  allu- 
sions to  Wordsworth,  Byron,  Keats,  and  Leigh  Hunt.  A  little  crazy 
on  poetical  subjects,  he,  by  an  easy  transition,  became  half  mad  on 
politics,  and  edited  a  weekly  periodical  called  The  Patriot  which 
was  desperately  radical  in  character.  One  of  its  leading  articles,  I 
remember,  began  with  the  portentious  words:  "Day  follows  day,  and 
chain  follows  chain."  Yet  Denovan  was  a  harmless  creature.  His 
poetical  pieces  were  noticed  with  some  approbation  by  Sir  Walter 
Scott,  who,  while  visiting  Ballantyne's  printing-orifice  at  Paul's  Work, 
now  and  then,  in  a  kindly  way,  looked  in  upon  him  at  his  den  in 
Leith  Wynd,  where  he  latterly  made  a  livelihood  by  coffee-roasting, 
and  where  he  died  in  1827.  There  was  a  little  exhilaration  in  having 
an  occasional  conversation  on  literary  topics  with  these  writers.  To 
a  higher  region  we  did  not  yet  aspire. 

I  still  at  odd  times  continued  my  labors  with  the  crow-pen,  but  at 
best  this  was  a  trivial  art,  and  I  had  secret  yearnings  to  procure  a 
press  and  types,  in  order  to  unite  printing  with  my  other  branches  of 
business.  1  partly  formed  this  desire  by  having  employed  a  printer  to 
execute  a  small  volume,  purporting  to  be  an  account  of  David  Ritchie, 
the  original  of  the  Black  Dwarf,  whom  I  had  seen  when  a  boy  in 
Peeblesshire.  The  success  of  this  enterprise,  commercially,  led  to 
the  conclusion  that  if!  could  print  as  well  as  write  my  poor  productions, 
1  might  add  to  my  available  means.  It  would  be  enough  if  I  could 
procure  an  apparatus  sufficient  for  executing  small  pamphlets  and 
tne  humbler  varieties  of  job-printing. 


WILLIAM    AT     PRINTING.  6ll 

For  some  time  my  inquiries  failed  to  discover  what  would  be  within 
the  compass  of  my  means,  until  at  length  a  person  who  had  begun 
business  in  a  way  not  unlike  my  own,  and  constructed  a  press  for  his 
own  use,  intimated  his  desire  of  selling  off,  in  order  to  remove  to  a 
distant  part  of  the  country.  The  whole  apparatus,  including  some 
types,  was  to  be  disposed  of  cheaply  by  private  bargain.  The  price 
sought  could  not  be  considered  excessive.  It  was  only  three  pounds. 
To  se^  up  as  a  printer  on  a  less  capital  than  this  was  surely  impossible. 
I  paid  the  money  and  became  the  happy  possessor.  From  that  time 
I  troubled  myself  no  more  with  imitative  print-writing.  That  branch 
of  art  was  taken  up  and  followed  for  a  time  by  my  brother,  who  so 
greatly  excelled  in  it  as  to  leave  my  efforts  far  behind. 

I  hesitate  to  think  that  I  acted  properly  in  directing  my  mind 
towards  letterpress  printing,  while  deficient  in  capital  to  pursue  the 
profession  with  any  solid  advantage.  My  best  excuse  was  the  wish 
to  occupy  idle  time.  In  the  mornings,  when  the  sun  was  up,  1  en- 
deavored to  make  use  of  the  daylight  by  reading  and  study,  as  I  had 
done  formerly.  Perusing  the  Spectator,  I  carefully  scrutinized  the 
papers  of  Addison  and  other  writers,  sentence  by  sentence,  in  order 
to  familiarize  myself  with  their  method  of  construction  and  treatment. 
But  beyond  this  I  had  little  patience.  I  felt  that  the  time  had  come 
for  action,  and  that  every  hour  spent  in  doing  nothing  was  little  bet- 
ter than  wasted.  Yet,  with  every  excuse,  I  have  never  ceased  to  be 
amazed  at  my  presumption  in  trying,  without  any  knowledge  of  the 
typographic  art,  to  set  up  with  such  miserable  mechanical  appliances. 
The  press,  which  was  constructed  to  stand  on  a  table,  was  an  imper- 
fect little  machine,  with  a  printing  surface  of  no  more  than  eighteen 
inches  by  twelve,  and  when  wrought,  a  jangling  and  creaking  noise 
was  produced  that  might  be  heard  as  far  as  two  houses  off. 

As  regards  my  font  of  types,  it  consisted  of  about  thirty  pounds' 
weight  of  brevier,  dreadfully  old  and  worn,  having  been  employed 
for  years  in  the  printing  of  a  newspaper,  and,  in  point  of  fact,  only 
worth  its  value  as  metal.  Along  with  the  font,  I  had  a  pair  of  cases, 
in  which  the  letters  were  assorted.  My  bargain  did  not  embrace  a 
frame  or  stand  for  the  cases.  That  I  supplied  by  the  ordinary  re- 
source of  wood  bought  from  a  timber-yard,  and  the  application  of 
my  carpenter's  tools.  For  a  small  additional  outlay,  1  procured  a 
brass  composing-stick,  some  quoins,  and  other  pieces  of  furniture,  an 
iron  chase,  and  a  roller,  along  with  a  pound-weight  of  printing  ink. 
I  was  now  complete. 

As  soon  as  i  had  arranged  all  parts  of  my  apparatus,  I  looked 
abroad  over  the  field  of  literature  to  see  which  work  should  first  en- 
gage my  attention.  My  best  plan,  as  I  thought,  would  be  to  begin 
by  printing  a  small  volume  on  speculation ;  to  sell  the  copies,  and 
with  the  proceeds  buy  a  variety  of  types  for  executing  casual  jobs 
which  might  drop  in.  A  small  volume  I  must  print,  and  finish  in  a 
marketable  style,  that  is  clear,  in  order  to  raise  Kinds.  Fixed  in  this 


012  ROBERT    AND     WILLIAM     CHAMBERS. 

notion,  I  selected  for  my  first  venture  a  pocket  edition  of  the  songs 
of  Robert  Burns. 

I  had  never  been  taught  the  art  of  the  compositor,  but  just  as  I 
had  casually  gleaned  some  knowledge  of  book-binding,  so  I  had 
picked  up  the  method  of  setting  types.  When  an  apprentice,  I  had 
been  frequently  sent  errands  to  the  printing-office  of  Mr.  Ruthven, 
in  Merchants  Court,  the  premises  which,  two  centuries  previously, 
had  formed  the  town  mansion  of  Thomas  Hamilton,  first  Earl  of 
Haddington,  jocosely  styled,  by  James  VI,  "Tarn  o'  the  Cowgate." 
In  the  fine  old  dining-hall  where  "Tarn"  had  entertained  royalty, 
I  was,  while  waiting  for  proofs,  favored  with  an  opportunity  of  seeing 
the  compositors  pursue  their  ingenious  art,  and  learning  how  types 
were  arranged  in  lines  and  pages.  Recollections  of  what  I  had  thus 
seen  of  compositorship  were  now  revived,  and  I  began  to  set  up  my 
song-book  without  receiving  any  special  instruction ;  my  composing- 
frame  being  placed  in  such  a  situation  that  I  was  ready  to  attend  to 
other  matters  of  business.  While  so  occupied,  I  was  visited  by  my 
old  friend,  James  King,  whom  I  had  for  some  time  lost  sight  of. 
His  taste  for  chemistry  had  brought  him  into  the  employment  of  a 
glass  manufacturer ;  and  now,  in  connection  with  that  line  of  busi- 
ness, he  was  about  to  sail  for  Australia,  where  a  useful  career  was  be- 
fore him.  He  was  amused  with,  and,  I  think,  compassionated  my 
feeble  efforts.  We  parted,  not  to  meet  until  both  were  in  different 
circumstances,  many  years  afterwards. 

My  progress  in  compositorship  was  at  first  slow.  I  had  to  feel  my 
way.  A  defective  adjustment  of  the  lines  to  a  uniform  degree  of 
tightness  was  my  greatest  trouble,  but  this  was  got  over.  The  art  of 
working  my  press  had  next  to  be  acquired,  and  in  this  there  was  no 
difficulty.  After  an  interval  of  fifty  years,  I  recollect  the  delight  I 
experienced  in  working  off  my  first  impression ;  the  pleasure  since  of 
seeing  hundreds  of  thousands  of  sheets  pouring  from  machines  in 
which  I  claim  an  interest  being  nothing  to  it !  If  the  young  and 
thoughtless  could  only  be  made  to  know  this, — the  happiness,  the 
dignity  of  honest  labor  conducted  in  a  spirit  of  self-reliance ;  the  in- 
significance and  probably  temporary  character  of  untoward  circum- 
stances while  there  is  youth,  along  with  the  willing  heart ;  the  proud 
satisfaction  of  acquiring  by  persevering  industry  instead  of  by  com- 
passionate donation, — how  differently  would  they  act ! 

I  think  there  was  a  degree  of  infatuation  in  my  attachment  to  that 
jangling,  creaking,  wheezing  little  press.  Placed  at  the  only  window 
in  my  apartment,  within  a  few  feet  of  my  bed,  I  could  see  its  outlines 
in  the  silvery  moonlight  when  I  awoke;  and  there,  at  the  glowing 
dawn,  did  its  figure  assume  distinct  proportions.  When  daylight 
came  fully  in,  it  was  impossible  to  resist  the  desire  to  rise  and  have 
an  hour  or  two  of  exercise  at  the  little  machine. 

With  an  imperfect  apparatus,  the  execution  of  my  song-book  was 
far  from  good.  Still,  it  was  legible  in  the  old  ballad  and  chap  book 


NINE     POUNDS     PROFIT.  613 

style,  and  I  was  obliged  to  be  content.  Little  by  little  I  got  through 
the  small  volume.  It  was  a  tedious  drudgery.  With  my  limited 
font,  I  could  set  up  no  more  than  eight  small  pages,  forming  the 
eighth  part  of  a  sheet.  After  printing  the  first  eight,  I  had  to  dis- 
tribute the  letter  and  set  up  the  second  eight,  and  so  on  throughout 
a  hundred  pages.  Months  were  consumed  in  the  operation.  The 
number  of  copies  printed  was  seven  hundred  and  fifty,  to  effect  which 
I  had  to  pull  the  press  twenty  thousand  times.  But  labor,  as  already 
hinted,  cost  nothing.  I  set  the  types  in  the  intervals  of  business, 
particularly  during  wet  weather,  when  the  stall  could  not  be  put  out, 
and  the  press-work  was  executed  late  at  night  or  early  in  the  morn- 
ing. The  only  outlay  worth  speaking  of  for  the  little  volume  was 
that  incurred  for  paper,  which  I  was  unable  to  purchase  in  greater 
quantities  than  a  few  quires  at  a  time,  and  therefore  at  a  consider- 
able disadvantage  in  price,  but  this  was  only  another  exemplification 
of  the  old  and  too  well-known  truth,  that  "the  destruction  of  the 
poor  is  their  poverty,"  about  which  it  was  useless  to  repine. 

When  completed,  the  volume  needed  some  species  of  embellish- 
ment, and  fortune*  helped  me  at  this  conjuncture.  There  dwelt  in 
the  neighborhood  a  poor  but  ingenious  man,  advanced  in  life,  named 
Peter  Fyfe,  with  whom  I  had  already  had  some  dealings.  Peter,  a 
short  man,  in  a  second-hand  suit  of  black  clothes,  and  wearing  a 
white  neckcloth,  which  he  arranged  in  loose  folds  so  as  effectually  to 
cover  the  breast  of  his  shirt,  was  from  the  west  country.  He  had 
been  a  weaver's  reed-maker  in  Paisley,  but  having  been  unfortunate 
in  business,  he  had  migrated  to  Edinburgh,  in  the  hope  of  procuring 
some  kind  of  employment.  Necessitous  and  clever,  with  an  inex- 
haustible fund  of  drollery,  he  was  ready  for  any  thing  artistic  that 
might  come  in  his  way.  Peter  did  not  want  confidence.  I  am  not 
aware  of  any  department  in  the  fine  or  useful  arts  of  which  he  would 
have  confessed  himself  ignorant.  At  this  period,  when  few  knew  any 
thing  of  lithography,  and  he  knew  nothing  at  all,  he  courageously 
undertook,  in  answer  to  an  advertisement,  to  organize  and  manage 
a  concern  of  that  kind,  and  by  tact  and  intuition  gave  unqualified 
satisfaction.  Peter  was  just  the  man  I  wanted.  Although  altogether 
unacquainted  with  copperplate  engraving,  he  executed,  from  the  de- 
scriptions I  gave  him,  a  portrait  of  the  Black  Dwarf,  for  my  account 
of  that  singular  personage ;  which  sketch  has  ever  since  been  accepted 
as  an  authority. 

I  now  applied  to  this  genius  for  a  wood-engraving  for  my  song- 
book,  which  he  successfully  produced,  and  for  a  few  shillings  addi- 
tional he  executed  a  vignette  representing  some  national  emblems. 
Invested  with  these  attractions,  the  song-book  was  soon  put  in  boards, 
and  otherwise  prepared  for  disposal.  I  sold  the  whole  either  in 
single  copies  at  a  shilling,  or  wholesale  to  other  stall-keepers  at  a 
proper  reduction,  and,  after  paying  all  expenses,  cleared  about  nine 
pounds  by  the  transaction. 


6l4  ROBERT     AND     WILLIAM    CHAMBERS. 

Nine  pounds  was  not  a  large  sum,  but  it  served  an  important  end. 
I  was  able  to  make  some  additions  to  my  scanty  stock  of  types, 
which  I  procured  from  an  aged  printer  with  a  decaying  business. 
To  be  prepared  for  executing  posting-bills,  I  cut  a  variety  of  letters 
in  wood  with  a  chisel  and  pen-knife.  For  such  bold  headings, 
therefore,  as  "Notice,"  "Found,"  or  "Dog  Lost,"  I  was  put  to  no 
straits  worth  mentioning.  One  of  my  most  successful  speculations 
was  the  cutting  in  wood  of  the  words  "To  Let,"  in  letters  four 
inches  long,  an  edition  of  which  I  disposed  of  by  the  hundred  at  an 
enormous  profit,  to  dealers  who  sold  such  things  to  stick  on  the  fronts 
of  houses  to  be  let. 

Through  the  agency  of  book-hawkers  who  purchased  quantities  of 
my  "Burns's  Songs,"  I  procured  some  orders  for  printing  "Rules" 
for  Friendly  and  Burial  Societies.  These  answered  me  very  well. 
The  Rules  were  executed  in  my  old  brevier,  leaded,  on  the  face  of 
half  a  sheet  of  foolscap,  and  were  therefore  within  the  capacity  of 
my  font.  A  person  who  was  a  lessee  of  several  toll-bars  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  the  city,  found  me  out  as  a  cheap  printer,  and  gave  me 
a  job  in  printing  toll-tickets,  which  I  executed  to  his  satisfaction. 
Another  piece  of  work  of  a  similar  character  which  came  in  my  way 
was  the  printing  of  tickets  for  pawnbrokers.  My  principal  employer 
in  this  line  was  a  lady  whose  establishment  was  a  second  floor  in 
High  street.  She  was  a  short,  plump,  laughing,  good-natured  woman, 
turned  of  fifty  years  of  age.  Her  family  consisted  of  a  niece,  who 
attended  to  business,  and  an  aged  female  domestic,  who  went  by  the 
name  of  "  Pawkie  Macgouggy."  Pawkie,  who  had  been  a  servant 
in  the  family  for  upwards  of  twenty  years,  received  me  when  I  called 
with  a  package  of  tickets,  and  kindly  gave  me  a  seat  in  the  kitchen 
till  her  mistress  could  be  communicated  with. 

The  lady  was  so  obliging  as  to  show  me  some  politeness,  and  then, 
as  well  as  a  few  years  later,  I  learned  a  part  of  her  history.  She 
had  traveled  abroad,  and  brought  with  her  to  Edinburgh  a  knowledge 
of  Continental  cookery.  With  this  useful  acquirement,  she  set  up  a 
tavern  business  in  South  Bridge  street,  and  there  she  laid  the  foun- 
dation of  her  fortune  by  a  dexterous  hit  in  the  culinary  art.  This 
consisted  in  the  invention  of  a  savory  dish  possessing  an  odor  which, 
it  was  said,  no  human  being  could  resist.  To  this  marvelously  fasci- 
nating dish  she  gave  the  name  of  Golli-Gosperado.  The  way  she  at- 
tracted customers  was  ingenious.  Her  tavern  was  down  a  stair,  and 
was  lighted  by  windows  to  the  street,  protected  by  iron  gratings, 
over  which  the  passengers  walked.  Having  prepared  her  Golli-Gos- 
perado, she  put  a  smoking  dish  of  it  underneath  the  gratings  in  the 
pavement.  According  to  her  own  account,  the  odor  was  overpower- 
ing. Gentlemen  in  passing  were  instantly  riveted  to  the  spot.  They 
declared  they  must  have  some  of  that  astonishing  dish,  whatever  it 
was,  and  at  whatever  cost,  and  down-stairs  they  rushed  accordingly. 
For  a  time  there  was  quite  a  furore  in  the  town  about  the  Golli- 


FRANKLIN     IN      EDINBURGH.  615 

Gosperado.  The  happy  inventor  retired  from  the  trade  with  so 
much  money  that  she  was  able  to  set  up  as  a  pawnbroker.  In  that 
profession  she  was  likewise  successful,  and  ultimately  retired  alto- 
gether from  business  to  a  villa  in  the  neighborhood,  where  she  died, 
being  attended  in  her  last  moments  by  the  faithful  and  sorrowing 
Pawkie  Macgouggy. 

My  means  being  somewhat  improved,  it  did  not  appear  unreason- 
able that  I  should  enlarge  my  stock  of  letter  by  ordering  a  moderate 
font  of  long  primer  adapted  for  pamphlet-work  from  an  aged  type- 
founder, named  Matthewson,  who  carried  on  business  at  St.  Leonard's, 
and  with  whom  I  had  become  acquainted.  In  his  walks,  he  occa- 
sionally called  to  rest  in  passing,  and  hence  our  business  dealings. 
His  cut  of  letter  was  not  particularly  handsome,  but  in  the  decline 
of  life,  and  in  easy  circumstances,  he  did  not  care  for  new  fashions. 

Disposed  to  be  familiar,  Matthewson  gave  me  an  outline  of  his 
history.  He  had,  he  said,  been  originally  a  shepherd  boy,  but  from 
his  earliest  years  had  possessed  a  taste  for  carving  letters  and  figures. 
One  day,  while  attending  his  master's  sheep,  he  was  accidentally 
observed  by  the  minister  of  the  parish  to  be  carving  some  words  on 
a  block  of  wood  with  a  pocket-knife.  The  clergyman  was  so  pleased 
with  his  ingenuity  that  he  interested  himself  in  his  fate,  and  sent 
him  to  Edinburgh  to  pursue  the  profession  of  a  printer.  Shortly 
afterwards,  he  began  to  make  himself  useful  by  cutting  dies  for  let- 
ters of  a  particular  description  required  by  his  employer,  there  being 
then  no  type-founder  in  the  city.  While  so  occupied,  he  attracted 
the  notice  of  Benjamin  Franklin  on  his  second  visit  to  Scotland. 
This  was  about  1771.  Franklin  was  pleased  with  the  skill  of  the 
young  printer,  and  offered  to  take  him  to  Philadelphia,  and  there 
assist  him  in  establishing  a  letter-foundry.  Matthewson  was  grateful 
for  the  disinterested  offer,  of  which,  unfortunately,  for  family  reasons, 
he  could  not  take  advantage.  He  set  up  the  business  of  letter- 
founding  in  Edinburgh,  which  he  had  all  to  himself  until  the  com- 
mencement of  establishments  with  higher  claims  to  taste  in  execution. 
To  vary  the  monotony  of  my  occupation,  I  had  for  some  time  been 
making  efforts  at  literary  composition.  It  was  little  I  dared  to  at- 
tempt in  that  way,  for  anxiety  concerning  ways  and  means  impelled 
me  to  disregard  every  species  of  employment  that  partook  of  recrea- 
tion, or  which  was  not  immediately  advantageous.  With  a  view  to 
publication  at  the  first  favorable  opportunity,  I  wrote  an  account  of 
the  Scottish  Gypsies,  for  which  I  drew  on  my  recollection  of  that 
picturesque  order  of  vagrants  in  the  south  of  Scotland,  and  also  the 
traditions  I  had  heard  regarding  them.  It  was  a  trifle — nothing 
worth  speaking  of;  but  being  now  provided  with  a  tolerably  good 
font  of  long  primer,  also  some  new  brevier  suitable  for  foot-notes,  I 
thought  it  might  be  made  available.  I  accordingly  set  up  the  tract 
as  a  six-penny  pamphlet ;  and  for  this  small  brochure  a  coarse  cop- 
per-plate engraving  was  furnished  by  that  versatile  genius,  Peter 


6l6  ROBERT      AND      WILLIAM     CHAMBERS. 

Fyfe.  It  represented  a  savage  gypsy-fight  at  a  place  called  Lowrie's 
Den,  on  the  top  of  Soutra  Hill.  The  edition  was  sold  rapidly  off, 
and  I  cleared  a  few  pounds  by  the  adventure.  What  was  of  greater 
service,  I  felt  encouraged  to  put  my  thoughts  on  paper,  and  to  en- 
deavor to  study  correctness  and  fluency  of  expression.  The  tract  on 
the  Gypsies  also  procured  me  the  acquaintance  of  a  few  persons  in- 
terested in  that  wayward  class  of  the  community. 

My  enlarged  typographical  capabilities  led  to  new  aspirations. 
Robert,  who  had  made  corresponding  advances  in  business,  but  ex- 
clusively in  connection  with  book-selling,  was  occupying  his  leisure 
hours  in  literary  composition,  which  came  upon  him  like  an  inspira- 
tion at  nineteen  years  of  age.  His  tastes  and  powers  in  this  respect 
suggested  the  idea  of  a  small  periodical  which  we  might  mutually 
undertake.  He  was' to  be  the  editor  and  principal  writer.  I  was  to 
be  the  printer  and  publisher,  and  also  to  contribute  articles  as  far 
as  time  permitted. 

The  periodical  was  duly  announced  in  a  limited  way,  and  com- 
menced. A  name  was  adopted  from  the  optical  toy  invented  by  Sir 
David  Brewster,  about  which  all  classes  were  for  a  time  nearly  crazy. 
It  was  called  the  Kaleidoscope,  or  Edinburgh  Literary  Amusement. 
In  size  it  was  sixteen  pages  octavo — the  price  threepence — and  it 
was  to  appear  once  a  fortnight.  The  first  number  was  issued  on 
Saturday,  October  6,  1821.  The  mechanical  execution  of  this  lit- 
erary serial  sorely  tested  the  powers  of  my  poor  little  press,  which 
received  sundry  claspings  of  iron  to  strengthen  it  for  the  unexpected 
duty.  My  muscular  powers  likewise  underwent  a  trial.  I  had  to 
print  the  sheet  in  halves,  one  after  the  other,  and  then  stitch  the  two 
together.  I  set  all  the  types  and  worked  off  all  the  copies,  my  younger 
brother,  James,  a  fair-haired  lad,  rolling  on  the  ink  and  otherwise 
rendering  assistance. 

This  was  the  hardest  task  I  had  yet  undergone;  for,  being  pressed 
by  time,  there  was  no  opportunity  for  rest.  Occupied  with  business, 
the  composing-frame,  and  the  press,  also  with  some  literary  compos- 
ition, I  was  in  harness  sixteen  hours  a  day;  took  no  more  than  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  to  meals;  and  never  gave  over  work  till  midnight. 
Sometimes  I  had  dreadful  headaches.  Of  course,  I  do  not  justify 
this  excessive  application.  It  was  clearly  wrong.  I  was  acting  in 
violation  of  the  laws  of  health.  Enthusiasm  alone  kept  me  up ;  cer- 
tainly no  material  stimulus.  My  only  excuse  for  this  ardently  pur- 
sued labor,  which  must  have  been  troublesome  to  quietly  disposed 
neighbors,  was  what  at  the  same  period  might  have  been  offered  by 
my  brother  for  his  incessant  self-sacrificing  exertions — a  desire  to 
overcome  a  condition  that  provoked  the  most  stinging  recollections. 
I  should  probably  have  broken  down  but  for  the  weekly  repose  and 
fresh  air  of  Sunday,  when,  after  attending  church,  I  had  an  exhilarat- 
ing ramble  on  the  sands  and  links. 

Robert  wrote  nearly  the  whole  of  the  articles  in  the  Kaleidoscope, 


A     POOR    ODD     POET.  617 

verse  as  well  as  prose.  My  contributions  consisted  of  only  three  or 
four  papers.  The  general  tone  of  the  articles,  by  whomsoever  pro- 
duced, may  be  acknowledged  to  have  been  unnecessarily  causiic  and 
satirical.  There  was  also  a  certain  crudeness  of  ideas,  such  as  might 
be  expected  from  young  and  wholly  inexperienced  writers.  Never- 
theless, there  was  that  in  the  Kaleidoscope  which  was  indicative  of 
Robert's  future  skill  as  an  essayist;  for  here  might  be  found  some  of 
the  fancies  which  were  afterwards  developed  in  his  more  successful 
class  of  articles.  In  particular,  may  be  mentioned  the  paper  styled 
the  "Thermometer  of  Misfortune,"  in  which  occur  the  ideas  that 
were  in  after  years  expanded  into  the  essay  on  the  luckless  class  of 
intemperates  popularly  known  as  "Victims." 

This  little  periodical  also  contained  a  few  articles  descriptive  of  a 
wayward  class  of  authors  in  the  lower  walks  of  life,  written  from  per- 
sonal knowledge,  and  marked  by  that  sympathy  for  the  unfortunate 
which  characterized  my  brother  through  life.  I  feel  tempted  to  give 
one  of  these  sketches.  It  refers  to  Stewart  Lewis,  a  hapless  being 
with  whom  Robert  had  become  acquainted  when  he  himself  was  in 
straits  previous  to  commencing  his  small  business. 

STEWART   LEWIS. 

"It  was  towards  the  end  of  1816,  when  I  lived  in  a  cottage  on 
one  of  the  great  roads  which  lead  to  this  metropolis,  that  I  was  en- 
gaged in  a  mercantile  concern  in  the  city,  and  traveled  thither  every 
morning,  and,  after  the  duties  of  the  day  were  performed,  came  back 
in  the  evening.  I  was  one  evening,  after  my  return,  entertained  by 
my  mother  with  an  account  of  two  extraordinary  persons  who  had 
called  during  my  absence,  and  who  afterwards  proved  to  be  Stewart 
Lewis  and  his  wife,  traveling  on  an  expedition  to  Haddington,  sell- 
ing a  small  volume  of  poems  which  he  had  just  published. 

"  The  appearance  and  singular  manners  of  these  visitants  were  de- 
scribed to  me  in  such  terms  of  respect  as  made  me  regret  my  ab- 
sence when  they  called;  and  the  volume  of  poems  which  they  had 
left  increased  my  desire  to  see  their  author;  for  the  acquaintance  of 
a  poet,  and  one  who  had  actually  printed  his  productions,  was  at  that 
time  an  object  of  very  great  interest,  and  even  curiosity. 

"On  the  very  next  evening,  however,  my  curiosity  was  destined 
to  be  gratified,  for  who  should  drop  in  upon  us  but  poor  Lewis  with 
his  wife  !  They  had,  to  use  the  wife's  expression,  'never  been  off 
their  feet '  since  early  in  the  morning,  and  were  very  much  fatigued 
accordingly.  I  was  then  introduced  to  the  poet,  and  in  the  course 
of  five  minutes  we  were  engaged  in  as  sincere  a  friendship  as  if  we 
had  lived  together  from  infancy.  Whether  it  was  from  the  naturally 
ardent  enthusiasm  of  his  temper,  or  a  secret  instinctive  discovery 
that  I  was  afterwards  to  become  one  of  his  own  brotherhood,  I  will 
not,  can  not  determine.  From  what  I  can  recollect  of  his  appear- 


6l8  ROBERT     AND     WILLIAM     CHAMBERS. 

ance  and  countenance,  he  was  dressed  in  a  suit  of  shabby  clothes, 
mostly  of  a  gray  color;  his  person  was  slender;  his  face  interesting, 
and  bearing  peculiar  marks  of  genius  and  intelligence  ;  his  forehead 
was  high,  his  hair  gray  and  thin,  and  he  had  a  countenance  wrinkled 
with  care  and  squalid  with  poverty.  He  never  spoke  but  under  the 
influence  of  a  sort  of  furor;  and  he  even  did  not  return  thanks  for 
the  favor  of  another  cup  of  tea  without  an  excitation  of  feeling  and 
expression  which  had  in  it  something  of  poetic  fervor. 

"His  wife  was  a  little  old  woman,  with  no  remains  of  that  beauty 
which  had  captivated  the  high-toned  heart  of  Stewart  Lewis  thirty 
years  before.  He  had  thus  addressed  her  on  the  thirtieth  anniver- 
sary of  their  marriage : 

" '  Though  roses  now  have  left  thy  cheek, 
And  dimples  now  in  vain  I  seek ; 
Thy  placid  brow,  so  mild  and  meek, 
Proclaims  I  still  should  love  thee. 

"'How  changed  the  scene  since  that  blest  day! 
My  hair's  now  thin  and  silver  gray; 
Though  all  that  's  mortal  soon  decay, 
My  soul  shall  live  to  love  thee.' 

She  spoke  in  a  low,  querulous  voice,  subdued  in  its  tones  by  a  long 
course  of  misery.  They  addressed  each  other  by  terms  of  endear- 
ment as  strong,  and  spoke  with  as  great  an  affection,  as  they  had 
done  on  their  marriage  day.  An  instance  of  conjugal  attachment  has 
seldom  been  found  like  that  of  Stewart  Lewis  and  his  sorrow-broken 
spouse.  He  had  addressed  several  poems  to  her  even  in  her  old  age, 
some  of  which  are  eminently  beautiful,  and  breathe  the  spirit  of  as 
fond  an  affection  as  if  they  had  still  been  the  accents  of  a  first  love, 
unbroken  and  unproved. 

"They  were  much  fatigued  when  they  arrived;  but  a  refreshment 
of  tea  soon  revived  their  spirits ;  and  though  the  success  of  their 
journey  had  been  very  limited,  the  poor  bard  was  soon  elevated  to  a 
state  of  rapturous  excitement ;  while  yet  in  the  intervals  of  his  joy, 
the  wife,  who  had  less  of  a  poetic  temperament,  and  whom  misfor- 
tune had  taught  the  very  habit  of  sorrow,  would  interfere,  with  a 
voice  mournfully  soothing,  and  warn  him  of  his  inevitable  griefs  to- 
morrow. 

"After  this  we  had  frequent  visits  of  Stewart  Lewis;  but  as  these 
were  generally  through  the  day,  when  I  was  engaged  in  the  duties  of 
my  profession,  I  had  little  opportunity  of  seeing  him.  He  had  left 
several  copies  of  his  poems  with  us,  and  I  afterwards  succeeded  in 
disposing  of  a  few  to  the  most  poetical  of  the  neighborhood,  which 
raised  a  small  sum.  I  then  resolved  to  pay  him  a  visit.  My  father 
accompanied  me  in  this  adventure,  out  of  curiosity  to  see  his  dwell- 
ing. After  searching  all  the  closes  at  the  west  end  of  the  Cowgate 
for  his  habitation,  we  were  at  length  directed  to  it  by  an  old  woman, 


THE     PALLID     CRONE.  619 

who  appeared  like  a  corpse  from  the  grave,  rising  out  of  a  low  cellar 
in  a  very  dark  close — such  a  pallid  and  wrinkled  crone  as  I  have  seen 
full  oft  in  my  antiquarian  researches  through  the  ancient  lanes  of  the 
town,  emerging  from  her  dark  dungeon  at  midday  to  taste  one  breath 
of  a  somewhat  purer  atmosphere  than  that  of  her  own  subterranean 
domicil.  With  her  shriveled  arm  she  pointed  up  a  narrow,  crazy  stair 
which  winded  above  her  head,  and  told  us  that  the  object  of  our 
search  lived  there.  We  thanked  her,  and  ascended.  At  the  second 
landing-place  we  entered  a  dark,  narrow  passage  from  which  a  num- 
ber of  doors  seemed  to  diverge,  the  habitations  of  miserables,  and 
in  one  of  which  dwelt  Stewart  Lewis. 

"  On  entering  this  wretched  abode,  we  found  the  unfortunate  bard, 
with  his  son,  a  lad  of  seventeen,  sitting  at  a  table,  and  employed  in 
stitching  up  various  copies  of  his  poems  in  blue  paper  covers.  At  our 
entrance  he  started  up  with  an  exclamation  of  surprise,  and  welcomed 
us  to  his  humble  shed.  I  perceived,  however,  that  his  countenance 
presently  lost  that  bold  smile  of  welcome,  and  his  tongue  that  vehe- 
ment gush  of  poetical,  enthusiastic  language  habitual  to  him  in  even 
the  lowest  occurrences  of  common  life ;  while  his  mind  seemed  en- 
gaged in  recollecting  whether  there  was  any  thing  in  the  house  with 
which  he  might  entertain  us.  I  soon  eased  him  of  his  fear  on  that 
account  by  laying  in  his  hand  the  small  sum  which  I  had  collected 
for  his  benefit  from  the  sale  of  his  poems.  His  face  immediately 
assumed  its  former  smile,  and,  after  thanking  me,  he  sent  away  his 
son  with  two-thirds  of  the  money  to  purchase  whisky — an  act  of  im- 
provident extravagance  which  I  could  not  help  condemning  with  per- 
haps too  great  vehemence  for  a  guest.  He  did  not  seem  offended  by 
my  remonstrances.  It  was  obvious,  however,  that  the  cause  of  his 
miserable  and  hopeless  condition  had  been  disclosed. 

"  After  this  interview  I  never  saw  Stewart  Lewis  more.  His  wife 
died  shortly  after,  and  he  came  to  my  father's  house  in  my  absence,  in 
a  state  of  distraction  for  his  loss.  He  waited  many  hours  for  my  re- 
turn, but  at  last  went  away  without  seeing  me.  The  depth  of  his 
sorrow  was  intimated  to  me  in  a  way  perhaps  more  affecting  than  any 
personal  interview  might  have  been.  He  left  a  letter,  in  which  was 
written,  in  a  hand  which  I  could  scarcely  decipher,  and  in  charac- 
ters which  strayed  over  the  whole  page, — 

"  'Mv  DEAR  SIR: 

I  AM  MAD. 

STEWARD  LEWIS.' 

"The  affection  which  this  poor  man  entertained  for  the  benign 
being  who,  for  upwards  of  thirty  years,  had  shared  with  him  a  con- 
stant train  of  sorrow  and  poverty  without  ever  repining,  had  in  it 
something  truly  romantic.  She  was  the  first  and  only  woman  he  had 
ever  loved,  and  he  always  declared  that  he  could  not  survive  her 


620  ROBERT    AND     WILLIAM     CHAMBERS. 

loss.  Their  love  was  mutual,  and  her  devotion  to  him  had  been  often 
shown  by  more  substantial  proofs  than  words. 

"She  had  frequently,  even  when  they  were  in  a  state  of  starvation, 
worked  a  whole  day  at  some  coarse  millinery  work  to  earn  a  sixpence, 
that  she  might,  with  mistaken  kindness,  supply  her  husband  with 
spirits.  The  unfortunate  habit  of  drinking  intoxicating  liquors,  which 
he  had  acquired  after  an  early  disappointment  in  life,  never  after- 
wards left  him ;  and  whether  to  drown  reflections  on  his  own  misery 
and  blasted  prospects,  or  to  inspire  him  with  the  faculty  of  versifica- 
tion, he  found  the  indulgence  of  that  propensity,  as  he  imagined, 
necessary  to  his  existence.  But  never  was  the  brow  of  this  woman 
clouded  with  a  reproof  of  the  cause  of  all  her  sorrows,  and  a  word 
of  remonstrance  against  his  foibles  was  never  heard  to  escape  her 
lips.  He  has  commemorated  his  unutterable  affections  in  several 
beautiful  songs.  In  one,  which  he  calls  his  'Address  to  his  Wife,' 
I  find  the  following  pathetic  verses : 

" '  In  youthful  life's  ecstatic  days, 

I've  rapt'rous  kissed  the  lips  o'  thine ; 
And  fondly  yet,  with  joy  I  gaze 
On  thee,  auld  canty  wife  o'  mine. 

" '  When  fortune's  adverse  winds  did  blaw, 

And  maist  my  senses  I  wad  tine, 
Thy  smilin'  face  drove  ill  awa', 
Thou  ever  dear  auld  wife  o'  mine. 

" '  Lang  round  the  ingle's  heartsome  blaze, 

Thy  thrifty  hand  made  a'  to  shine ; 
Thou'st  been  my  comfort  a'  my  days, 
Thou  carefu'  auld  wife  o'  mine. 

« '  When  life  must  leave  our  hoary  head, 

Our  genial  souls  will  still  be  kin', 
We'll  smile  and  mingle  wi'  the  dead, 
Thou  canty  auld  wife  o'  mine ' 

After  the  death  of  his  wife  he  wandered  all  over  Scotland  and  the 
northern  counties  of  England,  reckless  of  his  fate.  He  lamented  her 
death  in  ceaseless  complaints,  and  seemed  careless  of  life.  The  re- 
mainder of  the  copies  of  his  poems  which  he  had  left  with  us — a 
considerable  number — were  sent  to  him  while  he  was  at  Inverness, 
and  he  subsisted  entirely  on  what  the  sale  of  them  provided  for  up- 
wards of  a  twelvemonth.  When  weary  of  existence,  and  worn  out 
with  fatigue,  he  died  at  an  obscure  village  in  Dumfriesshire  about  the 
end  of  1818.  He  left  three  daughters,  none  of  whom  I  ever  saw, 
and  one  son,  who  had  latterly  been  the  companion  of  his  wander- 
ings— a  youth  unfortunately  weak  in  his  intellects,  and  of  whose  fate 
I  have  been  able  to  learn  nothing." 

My  brother's  poetical  pieces  were  the  best.     Some  of  them  were 


ROBERT'S    POETRY.  621 

touching  and  beautiful,  particularly  the  address  "To  the  Evening 
Star,"  which  has  been  often  reprinted  by  compilers  of  volumes  of 
poetry  without  intimating  its  origin,  which  is  not  surprising,  for  who 
knows  that  the  obscure  periodical  in  which  it  first  made  its  appear- 
ance ever  existed  ?  It  may  be  given  as  a  specimen  of  his  powers  of 
versification  at  nineteen  years  of  age. 

TO  THE  EVENING  STAR. 

Soft  star  of  eve,  whose  trembling  light 

Gleams  through  the  closing  eye  of  day, 
Where  clouds  of  dying  purple  bright 

Melt  in  the  shades  of  eve  away, 
And  mock  thee  with  a  fitful  ray, 

Pure  spirit  of  the  twilight  hour, 
Till  forth  thou  blazest  to  display 

The  splendor  of  thy  native  power. 

'Twas  thus  when  earth  from  chaos  sprung, 

The  smoke  of  forming  worlds  arose, 
And,  o'er  thine  infant  beauty  hung, 

Hid  thee  awhile  in  dark  repose ; 
Till  the  black  veil  dissolved  away, 

Drunk  by  the  universal  air, 
And  thou,  sweet  star,  with  lovely  ray, 

Shone  out  on  paradise  so  fair. 

When  the  first  eve  the  world  had  known 

Fell  blissfully  on  Eden's  bowers, 
And  earth's  first  love  lay  couched  upon 

The  dew  of  Eden's  fairest  flowers ; 
Then  thy  first  smile  in  heaven  was  seen 

To  hail  the  birth  of  love  divine,  « 

And  ever  since  that  smile  hath  been 

The  sainted  passion's  hallowed  shrine : 
Can  lover  yet  behold  the  beam 

Unmoved,  unpassioned,  unrefined  ? 
While  there  thou  shin'st  the  brightest  gem, 

To  Night's  cerulean  crown  assigned. 

Since  then  how  many  gentle  eyes 

That  love  and  thy  pure  ray  made  bright, 
Have  gazed  on  thee  with  blissful  sighs, — 

Now  veiled  in  everlasting  night ! 
O,  let  not  love  or  youth  be  vain 

Of  present  bliss,  and  hope  more  high  ; 
The  stars — the  very  clods  remain — 

Love,  they,  and  all  of  theirs  must  die. 

Now  throned  upon  the  western  wave, 

Thou  tremblest  coyly,  star  of  love  ! 
And  dip'st  beneath  its  gleamy  heave 

Thy  silver  foot,  the  bath  to  prove. 


622  ROBERT    AND     WILLIAM    CHAMBERS. 

And  though  no  power  thy  course  may  stay, 
Which  nature's  changeless  laws  compel, 

To  thee  a  thousand  hearts  shall  say, — 
Sweet  star  of  love,  farewell,  farewell ! 

The  Kaleidoscope  did  not  last.  It  sold  pretty  well,  but  only 
to  the  extent  of  paying  expenses,  yielding  no  reward  whatever  for 
literary  effort.  Yet  it  was  not  an  absolutely  valueless  undertaking. 
It  was  a  trial  of  one's  wings,  and  encouraged  to  higher  flights  in 
more  favorable  times  and  circumstances.  The  concluding  number 
appeared  on  the  i2th  of  January,  1822. 

From  about  this  time,  new  and  enlarged  views  began  to  predomi- 
nate. Early  difficulties  had  been  successfully  mastered.  Three  to 
four  years  of  a  funny,  scheming,  struggling,  tolerably  hard-working  ex- 
istence, to  be  remembered  like  a  dream  or  chapter  of  a  romance,  had 
effected  every  reasonable  anticipation.  Robert's  originally  small 
stock  had  increased  to  be  worth  about  two  hundred  pounds,  and  I 
had  made  a  similar  advance.  The  Walk,  as  we  thought,  had  fairly 
served  its  day.  With  sentiments  somewhat  akin  to  those  of  Tom  Tug, 
in  the  "  Waterman,"  when  bidding  a  pathetic  farewell  to  his  "  trim- 
built  wherry,"  we  were  disposed  to  bid  an  affecting  and  grateful 
adieu  to  stall  and  trestles,  and  bequeath  to  others  the  advantages, 
the  drolleries,  and  classic  associations  of  open-air  traffic.  Migration 
was  accordingly  resolved  on,  and  we  had  sundry  communings  as  re- 
gards where  we  should  respectively  attempt  to  establish  ourselves  in 
Edinburgh. 

It  was  now  that  Robert,  as  will  be  afterwards  stated  in  his  own 
words,  became  known  to  Sir  Walter  Scott,  by  writing  for  him,  and 
presenting,  through  Mr.  Constable,  a  transcript  of  the  songs  of  the 
"  Lady  of  the  Lake,"  in  the  small  and  neat  style  of  calligraphy  to 
which  I  have  made  some  reference.  Immediately  afterwards,  in  1822, 
he  removed  to  India  Place ;  I  removed  to  Broughton  street  in  the 
spring  of  1823;  both  places,  as  we  diffidently  ventured  to  hope,  being 
intermediate  to  something  better. 

ROBERT'S  WRITINGS — 1822  TO  1832. 

My  brother's  literary  efforts  had  hitherto  been  on  a  limited  scale. 
He  had  composed  some  pieces,  remarkable,  perhaps,  for  his  years 
and  the  untoward  circumstances  in  which  he  was  placed  ;  but,  except 
by  a  few  acquaintances,  none  augured  that  he  would  make  any  prog- 
ress as  an  author.  His  first  production,  not  a  very  high  flight,  was 
entitled  "  Illustrations  of  the  Author  of  Waverley."  It  consisted  of 
short  sketches  of  several  individuals,  chiefly  connected  with  the  south 
of  Scotland,  popularly  believed  to  have  been  the  originals  of  charac- 
ters in  the  earlier  fictions  of  Sir  Walter  Scott,  as,  for  example,  Davie 
Gellatley,  Dominie  Sampson,  Meg  Merrilies,  and  Dandie  Dinmont. 
The  south-country  people  who  came  about  us — one  of  them  a  retired 


ROBERT'S   "TRADITIONS   OF    EDINBURGH."      623 

parish  minister  given  to  gossip — formed  a  convenient  source  of  infor- 
mation on  the  subject. 

In  a  book  which  speculated  on  the  identification  of  actual  scenes, 
incidents,  and  characters  with  what  had  given  rise  to  the  fictions  of 
the  novelist,  it  would  have  been  strange  if  the  writer  had  not  some- 
times gone  a  little  wide  of  the  mark.  According  to  the  Introduction 
to  the  annotated  edition  of  the  "  Monastery,"  an  erroneous  conject- 
ure had  been  hazarded  respecting  Captain  Clutterbuck,  who,  not  a 
little  to  the  surprise  of  Sir  Walter,  was  identified  with  a  friend*  and 
neighbor  of  his  own.  Apart,  however,  from  misapprehensions  of  this 
kind,  the  "Illustrations"  pointed,  in  a  wonderfully  correct  manner, 
at  the  originals  of  some  of  the  principal  characters  in  the  earlier 
novels.  The  work,  issued  in  1822,  formed  a  small  volume,  of  which 
I  was  the  printer.  It  was  well  received,  and  was  subsequently  (1824) 
republished  in  better  style  by  an  Edinburgh  bookseller. 

After  being  settled  in  India  Place,  Robert  carried  out  the  design 
of  writing  the  "  Traditions  of  Edinburgh,"  a  work  for  which  he  was 
in  a  degree  prepared  by  those  youthful  explorations  already  adverted 
to,  as  well  as  by  his  having  meditated  over  the  subject.  Professedly, 
the  book  was  to  consist  of  amusing  particulars  concerning  old  houses, 
distinguished  characters,  and  curious  incidents,  such  as  could  be 
picked  up  from  individuals  then  still  living.  The  scheme  met  with 
general  approval.  There  were  still  alive  persons  who  had  some  re- 
membrance of  the  Scottish  capital  in  the  early  part  of  the  reign  of 
George  III,  when  persons  of  rank  were  as  yet  dwellers  in  the  tall 
tenements  and  dingy  closes  of  the  Old  Town.  One  gentleman  in  the 
decline  of  life  remembered  as  many  as  fifty  titled  personages,  some 
of  them  of  historical  note,  who  dwelt  in  the  Canongate  (formerly  the 
Court  end  of  the  town)  as  lately  as  1769.  There  were  others  whose 
recollections  did  not  extend  so  far  back,  but  who  in  youth  had  been 
acquainted  with  interesting  public  characters  who  had  disappeared. 
By  procuring  information  from  these  various  individuals  regarding  a 
past  state  of  things,  traditions  were  gathered  together  which  in  a  lew 
years  later  would  have  entirely  vanished. 

The  "  Traditions,"  thus  happily  put  in  shape  while  there  were  still 
living  memories  to  draw  upon,  well  suited  the  antiquarian  tastes  of 
my  brother,  and  he  entered  on  the  work  with  the  keenest  possible 
relish.  It  was  issued  in  parts,  and  I  was,  of  course,  the  printer  and 
publisher,  the  whole  case  and  press  work  being  as  hitherto  executed 
with  my  own  hands.  The  result  was  a  book  in  two  volumes,  with 
the  date  of  1824.  In  an  introductory  notice  to  a  new  edition  in 
1868,  the  author  gives  the  following  account  of  the  manner  in  which 
the  work  was  produced  and  received  : 

"  I  am  about  to  do  what  very  few  could  do  without  emotion :  re- 
vise a  book  which  I  wrote  forty-five  years  ago.  This  little  work  came 
out  in  the  Augustan  days  of  Edinburgh,  when  Jeffrey  and  Scott, 


624  ROBERT    AND    WILLIAM    CHAMBERS. 

Wilson  and  the  Ettrick  Shepherd,  Dugald  Stewart  and  Allison,  were 
daily  giving  the  productions  of  their  minds  to  the  public,  and  while 
yet  Archibald  Constable  acted  as  the  unquestioned  emperor  of  the 
publishing  world.  I  was  then  an  insignificant  person  of  the  age  of 
twenty ;  yet,  destitute  as  I  was  both  of  means  and  friends,  I  formed 
the  hope  of  writing  something  which  would  attract  attention.  The 
subject  I  proposed  was  one  lying  readily  at  hand — the  romantic  things 
connected  with  Old  Edinburgh.  If,  I  calculated,  a  first  part  or  num- 
ber could  be  issued,  materials  for  others  might  be  expected  to  come 
in,  for  scores  of  old  inhabitants,  even  up  perhaps  to  the  very  'oldest,' 
would  then  contribute  their  reminiscences. 

"  The  plan  met  with  success.  Materials  almost  unbounded  came 
to  me,  chiefly  from  aged  professional  and  mercantile  gentlemen,  who 
usually,  at  my  first  introduction  to  them,  stared  at  my  youthful  ap- 
pearance, having  formed  the  notion  that  none  but  an  old  person 
would  have  thought  of  writing  such  a  book.  A  friend  gave  me  a 
letter  to  Mr.  Charles  Kirkpatrick  Sharpe,  who,  I  was  told,  knew  the 
scandal  of  the  time  of  Charles  II  as  well  as  he  did  the  merest  gossip 
of  the  day,  and  had  much  to  say  regarding  the  good  society  of  a 
hundred  years  ago. 

"  Looking  back  from  the  year  1868,  I  feel  that  C.  K.  S.  has  him- 
self become,  as  it  were,  a  tradition  of  Edinburgh.  His  thin,  effem- 
inate figure,  his  voice  pitched  in  alt.,  his  attire,  as  he  took  his  daily 
walks  on  Princes  street — a  long  blue  frock-coat,  black  trousers,  rather 
wide  below,  and  sweeping  over  white  stockings  and  neat  shoes  ;  some- 
thing like  a  web  of  white  cambric  round  his  neck,  and  a  brown  wig 
coming  down  to  his  eyebrows — had  long  established  him  as  what  is 
called  a  character.  He  had  recently  edited  a  book  containing  many 
stories  of  diablerie,  and  another  in  which  the  original  narrative  of 
ultra-presbyterian  church  history  had  to  bear  a  series  of  cavalier 
notes  of  the  most  mocking  character.  He  had  a  quaint,  biting  wit, 
which  people  bore  as  they  would  a  scratch  from  a  provoked  cat.  Es- 
sentially, he  was  good-natured,  and  fond  of  merriment.  He  had 
considerable  gifts  of  drawing,  and  one  caricature  portrait  by  him  of 
Queen  Elizabeth  dancing,  'high  and  disposedly,'  before  the  Scotch 
embassadors,  is  the  delight  of  every  body  who  has  seen  it.  He  was 
intensely  aristocratic,  and  cared  nothing  for  the  interests  of  the  great 
multitude.  He  complained  that  one  never  heard  of  any  gentlefolks 
committing  crimes  nowadays,  as  if  that  were  a  disadvantage  to  them 
or  the  public.  Any  case  of  a  Lady  Jane  stabbing  a  perjured  lover 
would  have  delighted  him.  While  the  child  of  whim,  Mr.  Sharpe, 
was  generally  believed  to  possess  respectable  talents,  by  which,  with 
a  need  for  exerting  them,  he  might  have  achieved  distinction.  His 
ballad  of  the  'Murder  of  Caerlaverock,'  in  the  'minstrelsy,'  is  a 
masterly  production ;  and  the  concluding  verses  haunt  one  like  a 
beautiful  strain  of  music  : 


SHARPE     AND     SIR     WALTER     SCOTT.  625 

" '  To  sweet  Lincluden's  haly  cells 

Fu'  dowie  I'll  repair; 
There  Peace  wi'  gentle  patience  dwells, 

Nae  deadly  feuds  are  there. 

" '  In  tears  I'll  wither  ilka  charm, 

Like  draps  o'  balefu'  yew ; 
And  wail  the  beauty  that  could  harm 

A  knight  sae  brave  and  true.' 

"  After  what  I  had  heard  and  read  of  Charles  Sharpe,  I  called 
upon  him  at  his  mother's  house,  No.  93  Princes  street,  in  a  some- 
what excited  frame  of  mind.  His  servant  conducted  me  to  the  first 
floor,  and  showed  me  into  what  is  generally  called  among  us  the 
back  drawing-room,  which  I  found  carpeted  with  green  cloth,  and 
full  of  old  family  portraits,  some  on  the  walls,  but  many  more  on  the 
floor.  A  small  room  leading  off  this  one  behind,  was  the  place 
where  Mr.  Sharpe  gave  audience.  Its  diminutive  space  was  stuffed 
full  of  old  curiosities,  cases  with  family  bijouterie,  etc.  One  petty 
object  was  strongly  indicative  of  the  man — a  calling-card  of  Lady 
Charlotte  Campbell,  the  once  adored  beauty,  stuck  into  the  frame 
of  a  picture.  He  must  have  kept  it  at  that  time  about  thirty  years. 
On  appearing,  Mr.  Sharpe  received  me  very  cordially,  telling  me 
he  had  seen  and  been  pleased  with  my  first  two  numbers.  Indeed, 
he  and  Sir  Walter  Scott  had  talked  together  of  writing  a  book  of  the 
same  kind  in  ..company,  and  calling  it  '  Reekiana,'  which  plan,  how- 
ever, being  anticipated  by  me,  the  only  thing  that  remained  for  him 
was  to  cast  any  little  matters  of  the  kind  he  possessed  into  my  care. 
I  expressed  myself  duly  grateful,  and  took  my  leave.  The  conse- 
quence was,  the  appearance  of  notices  regarding  the  eccentric  Lady 
Anne  Dick,  the  beautiful  Susanna,  Countess  of  Eglintoune,  the  Lord 
Justice-clerk  Alva,  and  the  Dutchess  of  Queensberry  (the  '  Kitty '  of 
Prior),  before  the  close  of  my  first  volume.  Mr.  Sharpe's  contribu- 
tions were  all  of  them  given  in  brief  notes,  and  had  to  be  written 
out  on  an  enlarged  scale,  with  what  I  thought  a  regard  to  literary 
effect  as  far  as  the  telling  was  concerned. 

"By  an  introduction  from  Dr.  Chalmers,  I  visited  a  living  lady 
who  might  be  considered  as  belonging  to  the  generation  at  the  be- 
ginning of  the  reign  of  George  III.  Her  husband,  Alexander  Mur- 
ray, had,  I  believe,  been  Lord  North's  solicitor-general  for  Scotland. 
She  herself,  born  before  the  Porteous  Riot,  and  well  remembering  the 
Forty-five,  was  now  within  a  very  brief  space  of  the  age  of  a  hundred. 
Although  she  had  not  married  in  her  earlier  years,  her  children,  Mr. 
Murray  of  Henderland  and  others,  were  all  elderly  people.  I  found 
the  venerable  lady  seated  at  a  window  in  her  drawing-room  in  George 
street,  with  her  daughter,  Miss  Murray,  taking  the  care  of  her  which 
her  extreme  age  required,  and  with  some  help  from  this  lady,  we  had 
a  conversation  of  about  an  hour.  She  spoke  with  due  reverence  of 
her  mother's  brother,  the  Lord  Chief-justice  Mansfield ;  and  when  I 
40 


626  ROBERT    AND     WILLIAM     CHAMBERS. 

adverted  to  the  long  pamphlet  written  against  him  by  Mr.  Andrew 
Stuart  at  the  conclusion  of  the  Douglas  Cause,  she  said  that  to  her 
knowledge  he  had  never  read  it,  such  being  his  practice  in  respect 
of  all  attacks  made  upon  him,  lest  they  should  disturb  his  equanimity 
in  judgment.  As  the  old  lady  was  on  intimate  terms  with  Boswell, 
and  had  seen  Johnson  on  his  visits  to  Edinburgh — as  she  was  the 
sister-in-law  of  Allan  Ramsay  the  painter,  and  had  lived  in  the  most 
cultivated  society  of  Scotland  all  her  long  life — there  were  ample 
materials  for  conversation  with  her;  but  her  small  strength  made  this 
shorter  and  slower  than  I  could  have  wished.  When  we  came  upon 
the  poet  Ramsay,  she  seemed  to  have  caught  new  vigor  from  the  sub- 
ject ;  she  spoke  with  animation  of  the  child-parties  she  had  attended 
in  his  house  on  the  Castlehill  during  a  course  of  ten  years  before  his 
death,  an  event  which  happened  in  1757.  He  was  'charming,'  she 
said;  he  entered  so  heartily  into  the  plays  of  children.  He,  in  partic- 
ular, gained  their  hearts  by  making  houses  for  their  dolls.  How  pleas- 
ant it  was  to  learn  that  our  great  pastoral  poet  was  a  man  who,  in  his 
private  capacity,  loved  to  sweeten  the  daily  life  of  his  fellow-creatures, 
and  particularly  of  the  young  !  At  a  warning  from  Miss  Murray,  I 
had  to  tear  myself  away  from  this  delightful  and  never-to-be-fotgotten 
interview. 

"I  had,  one  or  two  years  before,  when  not  out  of  my  teens,  at- 
tracted some  attention  from  Sir  Walter  Scott,  by  writing  for  him  and 
presenting  (through  Mr.  Constable)  a  transcript  of  the  songs  of  the 
'  Lady  of  the  Lake,'  in  a  style  of  peculiar  calligraphy,  which  I  prac- 
ticed for  want  of  any  better  way  of  attracting  the  notice  of  people 
superior  to  myself.  When  George  IV,  some  months  afterwards,  came 
to  Edinburgh,  good  Sir  Walter  remembered  me,  and  procured  for 
me  the  business  of  writing  the  address  of  the  Royal  Society  of  Edin- 
burgh to  his  Majesty,  for  which  I  was  handsomely  paid.  Several 
other  learned  bodies  followed  the  example,  for  Sir  Walter  Scott  was 
the  arbiter  of  every  thing  during  that  frantic  time,  and  thus  I  was 
substantially  benefited  by  his  means. 

"According  to  what  Mr.  Constable  told  me,  the  great  man  liked 
me,  in  part  because  he  understood  I  was  from  Tweedside.  On  seeing 
the  earlier  numbers  of  the  'Traditions,'  he  expressed  astonishment 
as  to  'where  the  boy  got  all  the  information.'  But  I  did  not  see  or 
hear  from  him  till  the  first  volume  had  been  completed.  He  then 
called  upon  me  one  day,  along  with  Mr.  Lockhart.  I  was  over- 
whelmed with  the  honor,  for  Sir  Walter  Scott  was  almost  an  object 
of  worship  to  me.  I  literally  could  not  utter  a  word.  While  I  stood 
silent,  I  heard  him  tell  his  companion  that  Charles  Sharpe  was  a 
writer  in  the  'Traditions,'  and  taking  up  the  volume,  he  read  aloud 
what  he  called  one  of  his  quaint  bits.  'The  ninth  Earl  of  Eglintoune 
was  one  of  those  patriarchal  peers  who  live  to  an  advanced  age ;  in- 
defatigable in  the  frequency  of  their  marriages  and  the  number  of 
their  children;  who  linger  on  and  on,  with  an  unfailing  succession 


CONTRIBUTIONS    OF    SIR     WALTER     SCOTT.  627 

of  young  countesses,  and  die  at  last  leaving  a  progeny  interspersed 
throughout  the  whole  of  Douglas's  "Peerage,"  two  volumes,  folio, 
re-edited  by  Wood.'  And  then  both  gentlemen  went  on  laughing 
for  perhaps  two  minutes,  with  interjections :  '  How  like  Charlie ! ' 
*  What  a  strange  being  he  is  !'  'Two  volumes,  folio,  re-edited  by  Wood, 
ha,  ha,  ha !  There  you  have  him  past  all  doubt ;'  and  so  on.  I  was 
too  much  abashed  to  tell  Sir  Walter  that  it  was  only  an  impudent 
little  bit  of  writing  of  my  own,  part  of  the  solution  into  which  I  had 
diffused  the  actual  notes  of  Sharpe.  But,  having  occasion  to  write 
next  day  to  Mr.  Lockhart,  I  mentioned  Sir  Walter's  mistake ;  and 
he  was  soon  after  good  enough  to  inform  me  that  he  had  set  his 
friend  right  as  to  the  authorship,  and  they  had  had  a  second  hearty 
laugh  on  the  subject. 

"A  very  few  days  after  this  visit,  Sir  Walter  sent  me,  along  with  a 
kind  letter,  a  packet  of  manuscript,  consisting  of  sixteen  folio  pages, 
in  his  usual  close  handwriting,  and  containing  all  the  reminiscences 
he  could  at  the  time  summon  up  of  old  persons  and  things  in  Edin- 
burgh. Such  a  treasure  to  me !  And  such  a  gift  from  the  greatest 
literary  man  of  the  age  to  the  humblest !  Is  there  a  literary  man  of 
the  present  age  who  would  scribble  as  much  for  any  humble  aspirant? 
Nor  was  this  the  only  act  of  liberality  of  Scott  to  me.  When  I  was 
preparing  a  subsequent  work,  '  The  Popular  Rhymes  of  Scotland,' 
he  sent  me  whole  sheets  of  his  recollections,  with  appropriate  ex- 
planations. For  years  thereafter,  he  allowed  me  to  join  him  in  his 
walks  home  from  the  Parliament  House,  in  the  course  of  which  he 
freely  poured  into  my  greedy  ears  any  thing  he  knew  regarding  the 
subjects  of  my  studies.  His  kindness  and  good-humor  on  these  oc- 
casions were  untiring.  I  have  since  found,  from  his  journal,  that  I 
had  met  him  on  certain  days  when  his  heart  was  overladen  with  woe. 
Yet  his  welcome  to  me  was  the  same.  After  1826,  however,  I  saw 
him  much  less  frequently  than  before,  for  I  knew  he  grudged  every 
moment  not  spent  in  thinking  and  working  on  the  fatal  tasks  he  had 
assigned  to  himself  for  the  redemption  of  his  debts. 

"All  through  the  preparation  of  this  book,  I  was  indebted  a  good 
deal  to  a  gentleman  who  was  neither  a  literary  man  nor  an  artist  him- 
self, but  hovered  round  the  outskirts  of  both  professions,  and  might 
be  considered  as  a  useful  adjunct  to  both.  Every  votary  of  pen  or 
pencil  among  us  knew  David  Bridges  at  his  drapery  establishment  in 
the  Lawnmarket,  and  many  had  been  indebted  to  his  obliging  dis- 
position. A  quick,  dark-eyed  little  man,  with  lips  full  of  sensibility 
and  a  tongue  unloving  of  rest,  such  a  man  in  a  degree  as  one  can 
suppose  Garrick  to  have  been,  he  held  a  sort  of  court  every  day, 
where  wits  and  painters  jostled  with  people  wanting  coats,  jerkins, 
and  spotted  handkerchiefs.  The  place  was  small,  and  had  no  saloon 
behind  \  so,  whenever  David  had  got  some  '  bit '  to  show  you,  he 
dragged  you  down  a  dark  stair  to  a  packing  place,  lighted  only  by  a 
grate  from  the  street,  and  there,  amidst  plaster-casts  numberless, 


628  ROBERT    AND    WILLIAM     CHAMBERS. 

would  fix  you  with  his  glittering  eye,  till  he  had  convinced  you  of 
the  fine  handling,  the  '  buttery  touches '  (a  great  phrase  with  him), 
the  admirable  '  scummling  '  (another),  and  so  forth.  It  was  in  the 
days  prior  to  the  Royal  Scottish  Academy  and  its  exhibitions;  and  it 
was  left  in  a  great  measure  to  David  Bridges  to  bring  forward  aspir- 
ants in  art.  Did  such  a  person  long  for  notice,  he  had  only  to  give 
David  one  of  his  best  'bits,'  and  in  a  short  time  he  would  find  him- 
self chattered  into  fame  in  that  profound,  the  grate  of  which  I  never 
can  pass  without  recalling  something  of  the  buttery  touches  of  those 
old  days.  The  Blackwood  wits,  who  laughed  at  every  thing,  fixed 
upon  our  friend  the  title  of  '  Director-general  of  the  Fine  Arts,' 
which  was,  however,  too  much  of  a  truth  to  be  a  jest.  To  this  ex- 
traordinary being  I  had  been  introduced  somehow,  and,  entering 
heartily  into  my  views,  he  brought  me  information,  brought  me 
friends,  read  and  criticised  my  proofs,  and  would,  I  dare  say,  have 
written  the  book  itself  if  I  had  so  desired.  It  is  impossible  to  think 
of  him  without  a  smile,  but  at  the  same  time  a  certain  melancholy, 
for  his  life  was  one  which,  I  fear,  proved  a  poor  one  for  himself. 

"  Before  the  '  Traditions '  were  finished,  I  had  become  favorably 
acquainted  with  many  gentlemen  of  letters  and  others  who  were 
pleased  to  think  that  Old  Edinburgh  had  been  chronicled.  Wilson 
gave  me  a  laudatory  sentence  in  the  '  Noctes  Ambrosianae.'  The  Bard 
of  Ettrick,  viewing  my  boyish  years,  always  spoke  of  and  to  me  as  an 
unaccountable  sort  of  person,  but  never  could  be  induced  to  believe 
otherwise  than  that  I  had  written  all  my  traditions  from  my  own 
head.  I  had  also  the  pleasure  of  enjoying  some  intercourse  with  the 
venerable  Henry  Mackenzie,  who  had  been  born  in  1745,  but  always 
seemed  to  feel  as  if  the  '  Man  of  Feeling '  had  been  written  only  one 
instead  of  sixty  years  ago,  and  as  if  there  was  nothing  particular  in 
antique  occurrences.  The  whole  affair  was  pretty  much  of  a  triumph 
at  the  time.  Now,  when  I  am  giving  it  a  final  revision,  I  reflect 
with  touched  feelings,  that  all  the  brilliant  men  of  the  time  when  it 
was  written  are,  without  an  exception,  passed  away,  while,  for  my- 
self, I  am  forced  to  claim  the  benefit  of  Horace's  humanity: 

"  '  Solve  senescentum  mature  sanus  equum,  ne 
Peccet  ad  extremum  ridendus,  et  ilia  ducat.'  "  * 

In  this  recent  edition  of  the  "Traditions"  are  comprehended  a 
variety  of  particulars  gathered  since  the  first  appearance  of  the  work, 
and  calculated  to  heighten  the  legendary  picture  of  Old  Edinburgh. 
A  great  portion  of  this  new  matter  was  drawn  from  a  small  work 
which  my  brother  wrote  under  the  title  of  "  Reekiana,"  which  ap- 
peared in  1833.  The  new  edition  of  the  "Traditions"  is  therefore 
•a  considerable  improvement  on  the  old.  One  does  not  read  without 

*  Discreetly  unharness  in  good  time  a  horse  growing  old,  lest  in  the  end  he  make 
a  miserable  break-down. 


A    LADY'S    REMINISCENCES    OF    1745.          629 

interest  an  account  of  interviews  with  aged  persons,  such  as  Sir  Wil- 
liam Macleod  Banatyne,  who  recollected  the  circumstance  of  "his 
father  drawing- on  his  boots  to  go  to  make  interest  in  London  in  be- 
half of  some  of  the  men  in  trouble  for  the  Forty-five,  particularly  his 
own  brother-in-law,  the  clanranald  of  that  day."  Perhaps  the  most 
interesting  of  these  interviews  was  one  narrated  as  follows,  with  Mrs. 
Irving,  a  venerable  lady  who  possessed  by  inheritance  the  patent  of 
Anderson's  pills,  a  drug  which  took  its  origin  from  Dr.  Anderson,  a 
physician  of  the  time  of  Charles  I: 

"In  1829,  Mrs.  Irving  lived  in  a  neat,  self-contained  mansion  in 
Chessels's  Court,  in  the  Canongate,  along  with  her  son,  General  Irv- 
ing, and  some  members  of  his  family.  The  old  lady,  then  ninety- 
one,  was  good  enough  to  invite  me  to  dinner,  where  I  likewise  found 
two  younger  sisters  of  hers,  respectively  eighty-nine  and  ninety.  She 
sat  firm  and  collected  at  the  head  of  the  table,  and  carved  a  leg  of 
mutton  with  perfect  propriety.  She  then  told  me,  at  her  son's  re- 
quest, that,  in  the  year  1745,  when  Prince  Charles's  army  was  in  pos- 
session of  the  town,  she,  a  child  of  four  years,  walked  with  her  nurse 
to  Holyrood  Palace,  and  seeing  a  Highland  gentleman  standing  in 
the  doorway,  she  went  up  to  him  to  examine  his  peculiar  attire.  She 
even  took  the  liberty  of  lifting  up  his  kilt  a  little  way ;  whereupon 
her  nurse,  fearing  some  danger,  started  forward  for  her  protection. 
But  the  gentleman  only  patted  her  head,  and  said  something  kind  to 
her.  I  felt  it  as  very  curious  to  sit  as  a  guest  with  a  person  who 
had  mingled  in  the  Forty-five.  But  my  excitement  was  brought  to 
a  higher  pitch,  when,  on  ascending  to  the  drawing-room,  I  found  the 
general's  daughter,  a  pretty  young  woman,  recently  married,  sitting 
there,  dressed  in  a  suit  of  clothes  belonging  to  one  of  her  nonagena- 
rian aunts — a  very  fine  one  of  flowered  satin,  with  elegant  cap  and 
lappets,  and  silk  shoes  three  inches  deep  in  the  heel — the  same  hav- 
ing been  worn  just  seventy  years  before  at  a  Hunter's  Ball  at  Holy- 
rood  Palace.  The  contrast  between  the  former  and  the  present 
wearer — the  old  lady  shrunk  and  taciturn,  and  her  young  representa- 
tive full  of  life,  and  resplendent  in  joyous  beauty — had  an  effect  upon 
me  which  it  would  be  impossible  to  describe.  To  this  day,  I  look 
upon  the  Chessels's  Court  dinner  as  one  of  the  most  extraordinary 
events  of  my  life.  Mrs.  Irving  died  in  1837,  at  the  age  of  ninety- 
nine." 

Passing  to  the  next  of  my  brother's  productions:  In  November, 
1824,  there  was  a  week  of  calamitous  fires  in  Edinburgh,  which  des- 
olated a  portion  of  the  High  Street  and  Parliament  Square.  To  help 
the  fund  raised  on  behalf  of  the  sufferers  on  the  occasion,  he  wrote 
a  popular  account  of  the  chief  "  Fires  which  have  occurred  in  Edin- 
burgh since  the  Beginning  of  the  Eighteenth  Century."  In  the  ex- 
citement of  the  moment  it  had  a  considerable  sale,  and  was  so  far 
useful. 


630  ROBERT    AND     WILLIAM     CHAMBERS. 

The  success  of  the  "Traditions"  encouraged  the  preparation  of  a 
companion  to  that  work,  applying  to  the  general  features  of  the  city, 
and  partly  devoted  to  the  service  of  strangers.  It  was  styled  "Walks 
in  Edinburgh,"  and  was  issued  in  1825.  From  the  pleasing,  anec- 
dotic style  in  which  the  book  was  written,  it  was  well  received,  and 
added  to  the  literary  repute  of  the  writer. 

Diligent,  painstaking,  and  with  a  love  of  what  was  old  and  char- 
acteristic, Robert  had  for  some  time  been  collecting  a  variety  of 
familiar  sayings  in  rhyme,  and  these  appeared  early  in  1826,  under 
the  title  of  "Popular  Rhymes  of  Scotland."  As  has  been  already 
mentioned,  Sir  Walter  Scott,  with  his  accustomed  kindness,  forwarded 
some  contributions  to  the  work,  which  has  passed  through  three  edi- 
tions. As  regards  the  purport  of  this  collection  of  national  rhymes, 
the  following  explanation  is  given  in  the  preface  to  the  third  and 
considerably  extended  edition : 

"  Reared  amidst  friends  to  whom  popular  poetry  furnished  a  daily 
enjoyment,  and  led  by  a  tendency  of  my  own  mind  to  delight  in 
whatever  is  qaint,  whimsical,  and  old,  I  formed  the  wish,  at  an  early 
period  of  life,  to  complete  as  I  considered  it,  the  collection  of  the 
traditionary  verse  of  Scotland,  by  gathering  together  and  publishing 
all  that  remained  .of  a  multitude  of  rhymes  and  short  snatches  of 
verse  applicable  to  places,  families,  natural  objects,  amusements,  etc., 
wherewith  not  less  than  by  song  and  ballad,  the  cottage  fireside  was 
amused  in  days  gone  past,  while  yet  printed  books  were  only  familiar 
to  comparatively  few.  This  task  was  executed  as  well  as  circum- 
stances would  permit,  and  a  portion  of  the  '  Popular  Rhymes  of  Scot- 
land' was  published  in  1826.  Other  objects  have  since  occupied  me, 
generally  of  a  graver  kind;  yet  amidst  them  all,  I  have  never  lost 
my  wish  to  complete  the  publication  of  these  relics  of  the  old  natural 
literature  of  my  native  country." 

Among  the  persons  to  whom  my  brother  applied  for  materials  for 
the  work  was  William  Wilson,  a  young  man  of  about  his  own  age, 
who  had  similar  poetical  and  archaeological  tastes,  and  for  a  time 
edited  a  literary  periodical  in  Dundee.  Between  the  two  there  sprung 
up  an  extraordinary  friendship,  which  was  not  weakened  by  Wilson 
some  years  later  emigrating  to  America,  and  setting  up  as  a  book- 
seller at  Poughkeepsie,  a  pretty  town  on  the  Hudson,  in  the  State 
of  New  York.  The  letters  which  passed  between  them  bring  into 
view  a  number  of  particulars  concerning  my.  brother's  literary  aims 
and  efforts.  Writing  in  January,  1824,  to  Wilson,  whom  he  always 
addressed  as  his  "dear  Willie,"  he  refers  gratifyingly  to  the  "Tra- 
ditions," and  the  manner  in  which  the  book  had  brought  him  into 
notice :  "  This  little  work  is  taking  astonishingly,  and  I  am  getting  a 
great  deal  of  credit  by  it.  It  has  also  been  the  means  of  introducing 
me  to  many  of  the  most  respectable  leading  men  of  the  town,  and 
has  attracted  to  me  the  attention  of  not  a  few  of  the  most  eminent 


ROBERT'S    "PICTURE    OF    SCOTLAND,"    ETC.      631 

literary  characters.  What  would  you  think,  for  instance,  of  the 
venerable  author  of  the  "Man  of  Feeling"  calling  on  me  in  his 
carriage  to  contribute  his  remarks  in  manuscript  on  my  work  I  The 
value  of  the  above  two  great  advantages  is  incalculable  to  a  young 
tradesman  and  author  like  me.  It  saves  me  twenty  years  of  mere 
laborious  plodding  by  the  common  walk,  and  gives  me  at  twenty-two 
all  the  respectability  which  I  could  have  expected  at  forty." 

Later  in  the  same  year,  he  incloses  a  lyrical  effusion  to  Wilson,  the 
inspiring  heroine  of  which  can  be  guessed  at  from  the  name  of  a 
young  lady,  who  was  prevented  by  her  mother  from  forming  an  in- 
timacy with  one  not  supposed  to  be  in  the  category  of  an  "  eligible." 
It  is  to  be  regretted  that  "Leila"  was  not  afterwards  particularly 
fortunate  in  her  marriage. 

"  Fair  Leila's  eyes,  fair  Leila's  eyes, 
Oft  fill  my  breast  with  glad  surprise — 
Surprise  and  love,  and  hope  and  pride, 
With  many  a  glowing  thought  beside. 

"  The  light  that  lies  in  Leila's  eyes 
No  trick  of  vain  allurement  tries, 
But  sheds  a  soft  and  constant  beam, 
Like  moonlight  on  the  tranquil  stream ; 
Yet  as  the  seas  from  pole  to  pole 
Move  at  yon  gentle  orb's  control, 
So  tumults  in  my  bosom  rise 
Beneath  the  charm  of  Leila's  eyes. 

Fair  Leila's  eyes,  fair  Leila's  eyes,  etc. 

"  Fair  Leila's  eyes  I'd  gladly  shun 
The  flaunting  glare  of  Fortune's  sun, 
And  to  the  humble  shade  betake, 
Which  they  a  brighter  heaven  could  make. 
•  The  wildfire  lights  I  once  pursued 

Should  ne'er  again  my  steps  delude  : 
I'd  fix  my  faith,  and  only  prize 
The  steadfast  light  of  Leila's  eyes. 

Fair  Leila's  eyes,  fair  Leila's  eyes,  etc." 

Improving  in  his  prospects,  Robert  removed  with  his  bookselling 
business  to  Hanover  street,  where  the  conducting  of  his  establishment 
fell  partly  on  James,  who  had  been  reared  as  a  coadjutor.  In  1826, 
following  next  after  the  "Rhymes,"  appeared  his  "  Picture  of  Scot- 
land," a  work  in  two  volumes,  the  materials  of  which  had  been  gath- 
ered together  by  a  succession  of  toilsome  peregrinations  over  a  large 
part  of  the  country,  exclusively  of  previous  historical  studies.  An 
ardent  attachment  to  Scotland  had  led  him  to  undertake  the  work  ; 
for,  as  he  said,  "  Instead  of  the  pilgrim's  scallop  in  my  hat,  I  took 
for  motto  the  glowing  expression  of  Burns':  '  I  have  no  dearer  aim 
than  to  make  leisurely  journeys  through  Caledonia;  to  sit  on  the 


632  ROBERT    AND    WILLIAM    CHAMBERS. 

fields  of  her  battles  ;  to  wander  on  the  romantic  banks  of  her  streams ; 
and  to  muse  by  the  stately  towers  of  venerable  ruins,  once  the  home- 
steads of  her  heroes.' '  In  the  main  topographical,  the  book  com- 
prehended an  interlarding  of  native  anecdote  and  humor,  along  with 
illustrations  of  the  manners  of  a  past  age.  "  The  reclamation  of  that 
which  is  altogether  poetry — the  wonderful,  beautiful  past,"  he  adds, 
was  a  primary  object  of  the  book,  being  "  conscious  and  certain  that, 
though  many  of  his  own  generation  may  not  give  him  credit  for  so 
exalted  a  purpose,  the  people  who  shall  afterwards  inherit  this  roman- 
tic land  will  appreciate  what  could  not  have  been  preserved  but  with 
a  view  to  their  gratification." 

The  "Picture  of  Scotland"  was  followed  in  rapid  succession  by 
several  works  which  still  further  extended  Robert's  popularity  as  a 
writer.  The  quantity  of  literary  work  of  one  kind  or  other  which  he 
went  through  during  some  years  at  this  period  was  astonishing,  more 
particularly  when  we  know  that  he  continued  to  give  a  certain  degree 
of  attention  daily  to  business.  Indeed,  with  all  his  love  of  letters, 
he  by  no  means  relied  on  his  efforts  with  the  pen.  He  used  to  repeat 
a  sage  remark  of  Scott,  that  literature  is  a  good  cane  to  walk  with, 
but  not  a  staff  to  lean  upon ;  an  observation  too  apt  to  be  neglected 
by  young  and  inexperienced  writers. 

Archibald  Constable,  in  his  attempts  to  revive  a  publishing  business 
after  the  catastrophe  of  1825,  happily  struck  out  the  idea  of  a  series 
of  cheap  popular  works,  by  which  employment  was  found  for  a  num- 
ber of  persons  with  literary  tastes  and  of  tried  ability.  Robert  was 
one  of  the  earliest  so  pressed  into  the  service  of  "  Constable's  Mis- 
cellany." In  1828,  appeared  his  "  History  of  the  Rebellion  of  1745," 
in  two  volumes ;  at  the  close  of  the  same  year  was  issued  his  "  His- 
tory of  the  Rebellions  in  Scotland  under  the  Marquis  of  Montrose 
and  others  from  1638  to  1660,"  in  two  volumes;  this  was  followed, 
in  1829,  by  a  "  History  of  the  Rebellions  in  Scotland  under  Viscount 
Dundee  and  the  Earl  of  Mar  in  1689  and  1715,"  in  one  volume; 
and  finally,  in  1830,  he  contributed  the  "Life  of  James  I,"  in  two 
volumes.  Such,  however,  was  not  the  entire  amount  of  his  literary 
labor.  Intermediately,  he  edited  "Scottish  Ballads  and  Songs,"  in 
three  volumes  (1829),,  and  the  "  Biography  of  Distinguished  Scots- 
men," in  four  volumes.  Besides  which,  he  furnished  Mr.  Lockhart 
with  a  variety  of  valuable  notes  for  his  "  Life  of  Robert  Burns." 

Of  all  these  works,  that  which  attained  the  greatest  and  most  en- 
during popularity  was  the  "  History  of  the  Rebellion  of  1745,"  the 
materials  of  which  were  gathered  from  the  principal  sources  of  infor- 
mation available  in  1827.  Several  families,  whose  ancestors  had  been 
compromised  in  the  insurrection,  obligingly  furnished  traditional 
anecdotes  for  the  work,  which  thereby  assumed  a  character  consider- 
ably different  from  one  consisting  of  dry  historical  annals.  While 
received  with  general  approbation,  the  "  History  of  the  Rebellion," 
from  the  feeling  with  which  it  was  written,  led  to  a  notion  that  it 


"THE  LYON  IN   MOURNING."  633 

was  the  work  of  a  Jacobite.  Such  seems  to  have  been  the  opinion 
of  a  writer  in  the  Quarterly  Review,  who,  in  reviewing  Lord  Mahon's 
"  History  of  England  "  (1839),  refers  to  the  "  many  curious  details, 
gleaned  with  exemplary  diligence,  and  presented  in  a  lively  enough 
style,"  in  the  histories  of  the  rebellions  of  1715  and  1745,  by  "Mr. 
Robert  Chambers,  a  bookseller  and  antiquary  of  Edinburgh,"  adding: 
"  His  Jacobitism  seems  that  of  a  rampant  Highlander  ;  and  we  doubt 
not,  had  he  flourished  at  the  proper  time,  he  would  have  handled  his 
claymore  gallantly  ;  nor  are  we  at  all  surprised  to  hear  that  he  enjoys 
considerable  popularity  among  certain  classes  in  Scotland;  but  we 
can  not  anticipate  that  these  historical  performances  will  ever  obtain 
a  place  in  the  English  library." 

To  conclusions  as  to  his  supposed  Jacobitism,  my  brother  made 
some  demur.  He  declared  that  he  "  disapproved  of  the  insurrection 
of  1745,  and  held  that  it  undoubtedly  was  a  crime  to  disturb  with 
war,  and  to  some  extent  with  rapine,  a  nation  enjoying  internal  peace 
under  a  settled  government.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  it  was  evident 
that  those  who  followed  Charles  Edward  acted  according  to  their  lights, 
with  heroic  self-devotion,  and  were  not  fairly  liable  to  the  vulgar  rid- 
icule and  vituperations  thrown  upon  them  by  those  whose  duty  it  was 
to  resist  and  punish  them.  Accordingly,  it  was  just  that  the  adven- 
tures of  the  persons  concerned  should  be  detailed  with  impartiality, 
and  their  unavoidable  misfortunes  be  spoken  of  with  humane  feeling." 
Such  is  the  vindicatory  remark  he  makes  in  a  prefatory  note  to  the 
seventh  edition  of  the  work,  issued  as  lately  as  1869;  and  in  the  pres- 
ent day,  few  will  be  disposed  to  challenge  the  accuracy  of  this  view 
of  the  matter.  Whether  this  historical  performance  has  obtained  a 
place  in  what  the  reviewer  is  pleased  to  call  "the  English  library," 
I  am  not  prepared  to  say,  further  than  that,  without  adventitious 
aid,  it  has  been  very  extensively  diffused  in  all  parts  of  Great  Britain, 
and  remains,  to  appearance,  a  generally  received  work  on  the  subject. 

The  new  edition  of  the  "History"  just  referred  to  has  been  so 
greatly  extended  as  to  be  almost  a  new  work.  The  prolific  source 
of  the  fresh  information  that  was  obtained,  was  a  collection  of  ten 
volumes  in  manuscript,  styled  on  the  title-pages  the  "  Lyon  in 
Mourning,"  which  had  been  prepared  by  the  anxious  care  of  the 
Right  Rev.  "Bishop  Forbes,  of  the  Scottish  Episcopal  Church,  and  who 
was  settled  as  a  minister  of  that  communion  in  Leith  at  the  middle 
of  the  eighteenth  century.  Laboring  under  the  suspicion  that  he  was 
a  Jacobite  dangerous  to  the  reigning  dynasty,  he  was  confined  in  Ed- 
inburgh Castle  during  the  rebellion,  and  only  liberated  in  1746.  By 
this  means  he  was  saved  from  the  disasters  of  the  falling  cause,  and 
brought  into  leisurely  communication  with  a  number  of  the  insur- 
gents who  were  seized  at  various  times  and  placed  in  confinement 
along  with  him.  After  regaining  his  liberty,  Bishop  Forbes  prose- 
cuted the  design  of  collecting  from  the  mouths  and  JX.MIS  of  the  sur- 
vivors of  the  late  enterprise  such  narratives,  anecdotes,  and  memo- 


634  ROBERT    AND     WILLIAM     CHAMBERS. 

rabilia  as  they  could  give  from  their  own  knowledge,  or  as  eye-wit- 
nesses, respecting  this  extraordinary  historical  episode.  The  whole 
of  the  trustworthy  information  so  acquired  was  written  on  octavo 
sheets,  which  in  the  end  formed  volumes;  and  nothing  can  exceed 
the  "neatness,  distinctness,  and  accuracy  with  which  the  whole  task 
appears  to  have  been  performed.  In  allusion  to  the  woe  of  Scotland 
for  her  exiled  race  of  princes,  the  ten  volumes  composing  the  work 
were  bound  in  black,  and  styled  the  "Lyon  in  Mourning."  The 
poor  bishop  died  in  1776,  leaving  the  collection  to  his  widow,  who, 
after  many  years,  sold  it  to  Sir  Henry  Stewart  of  Allanton,  who  had 
been  induced  to  turn  his  attention  to  the  subject ;  and  he  commenced 
a  work  designed  to  present  a  historical  review  of  the  different  at- 
tempts made  to  restore  the  Stewart  family  to  the  throne.  The  work 
had  been  carried  a  certain  length,  when  it  was  interrupted  by  ill- 
health,  and  permanently  laid  aside.  On  a  visit  to  Allanton  House, 
in  1832,  my  brother  first  heard  of  the  "Lyon, "and  was  so  fortunate 
as  to  have  it  assigned  to  him  for  literary  purposes.  The  result  (1834) 
was  the  "Jacobite  Memoirs  of  the  Rebellion  of  1745."  But  from 
the  wide-spread  information  contained  in  the  collection,  were  drawn 
innumerable  particulars  of  a  deeply  interesting  kind  for  the  revised 
edition  of  the  "History." 

Between  1823  and  1835,  Robert  amused  himself,  and  gave  relief 
to  his  feelings,  by  occasionally  writing  poetical  pieces,  which  he  col- 
lected and  printed  in  a  volume  for  private  circulation.  The  follow- 
ing is  one  of  these  effusions,  purporting  to  be  written  July  1829,  in 
reference  to  the  very  amiable  young  lady,  Miss  Annie  Kirkwood, 
whom  he  married  in  December  of  that  year.* 

THOU  GENTLE  AND   KIND   ONE. 

"  Thou  gentle  and  kind  one, 

Who  com'st  o'er  my  dreams 
Like  the  gales  of  the  west, 

Or  the  music  of  streams ; 
O  softest  and  dearest, 

Can  that  time  e'er  be, 
When  I  could  be  forgetful 

Or  scornful  of  thee  ? 

"  No !  my  soul  might  be  dark, 

Like  a  landscape  in  shade, 
And  for  thee  not  the  half 

Of  its  love  be  displayed, 
But  one  ray  of  thy  kindness 

Would  banish  my  pain, 
And  soon  kiss  every  feature 

To  brightness  again. 

*  December  7,  1829. — Robert  Chambers  married  to  Anne  Kirkwood,  only  child 
of  the  late  John  Kirkwood,  Custom-house,  Glasgow. — Newspaper  Notice. 


THE     "STIRLING    JUG."  635 

"And  if,  in  contending 

With  men  and  the  world, 
My  eye  might  be  fierce 

Or  my  brow  might  be  curled ; 
That  brow  on  thy  bosom 

All  smoothed  would  recline, 
And  that  eye  melt  in  kindness, 

When  turned  upon  thine. 

"  If  faithful  in  sorrow, 

More  faithful  in  joy — 
Thou  shouldst  find  that  no  change 

Could  affection  destroy; 
All  profit,  all  pleasure 

As  nothing  would  be, 
And  each  triumph  despised, 

Unpartaken  by  thee." 

Always  ready  to  lend  a  helping  hand  to  the  promotion  of  any  lit- 
erary object  connected  with  his  native  country,  my  brother,  in  1830, 
contributed  historical  and  descriptive  notices  to  a  work  styled  the 
"Picture  of  Stirling."  An  opportunity  was  thereby  afforded  of  giv- 
ing an  account  of  an  object  formerly  of  national  importance,  known 
as  the  "Stirling  Jug," — such  having  been  the  legal  standard  for  the 
old  Scotch  pint  (equal  to  about  an  English  quart),  which  is  referred 
to,  as  some  may  perhaps  think,  rather  too  frequently  in  the  verses  of 
Burns  and  others.  As  little  is  popularly  known  regarding  the  history 
of  the  Stirling  Jug,  we  may  copy  it  for  general  edification: 

"By  an  act  of  the  Scottish  Parliament,  in  1437,  various  burghs  in 
the  Lowlands  were  appointed  to  keep  the  various  standard  measures 
for  liquid  and  dry  goods,  from  which  all  others  throughout  the 
country  were  to  be  taken.  To  Edinburgh  was  appointed  the  honor 
of  keeping  the  standard  ell ;  to  Perth  the  reel ;  to  Lanark  the  pound ; 
to  Linlithgow  the  firlot;  and  to  Stirling  the  pint.  This  was  a  judi- 
cious arrangement,  both  as  it  was  calculated  to  prevent  any  attempt 
at  an  extensive  or  general  scheme  of  fraud,  and  as  the  commodities 
to  which  the  different  standards  referred  were  supplied  in  the  greatest 
abundance  by  the  districts  and  towns  to  whose  care  they  were  com- 
mitted; Edinburgh  being  then  the  principal  market  for  cloth,  Perth 
for  yarn,  Lanark  for  wool,  Linlithgow  for  grain,  and  Stirling  for  dis- 
tilled and  fermented  liquors.  The  pint  measure,  popularly  called  the 
Stirling  Jug,  is  still  kept  with  great  care  in  the  town  where  it  was 
first  deposited  four  hundred  years  ago.  It  is  made  of  brass,  in  the 

shape  of  a  hollow  cone  truncated The  handle  is  fixed 

with  two  brass  nails;  and  the  whole  has  an  appearance  of  rudeness, 
quite  proper  to  the  early  age  when  it  was  first  instituted  by  the  Scot- 
tish Estates  as  the  standard  of  liquid  measure  for  this  ancient  bac- 
chanalian kingdom.  It  will  be  interesting  to  all  votaries  of  antiquity 
to  know  that  this  vessel,  which  may  in  some  measure  be  esteemed  a 


636  ROBERT     AND     WILLIAM     CHAMBERS. 

national  palladium,  was  rescued,  about  eighty  years  ago,  from  the 
fate  of  being  utterly  lost,  to  which  all  circumstances  for  some  time 
seemed  to  destine  it.  The  person  whom  we  have  to  thank  for  this 
good  service  was  the  Reverend  Alexander  Bryce,  minister  of  Kirk- 
newton,  near  Edinburgh,  a  man  of  scientific  and  literary  accomplish- 
ment much  superior  to  what  was  displayed  by  the  generality  of  the 
clergy  of  this  day.  Mr.  Bryce  (who  had  taught  the  mathematical 
class  in  the  college  of  Edinburgh  during  the  winter  of  1745-46,  in- 
stead of  the  eminent  Maclaurin,  who  was  then  on  his  death-bed) 
happened  to  visit  Stirling  in  the  year  1750;  when,  recollecting  that 
the  standard  pint  jug  was  appointed  to  remain  in  that  town,  he  re- 
quested permission  from  the  magistrates  to  see  it.  The  magistrates 
conducted  him  to  their  council-house,  where  a  pewter  pint  jug  was 
taken  down  from  the  roof,  whence  it  was  suspended,  and  presented  to 
him.  After  a  careful  examination,  he  was  convinced  that  this  could 
not  be  the  legal  standard.  He  communicated  his  opinion  to  the 
magistrates ;  but  they  were  equally  ignorant  of  the  loss  which  the 
town  had  sustained,  and  indisposed  to  take  any  trouble  for  the  pur- 
pose of  retrieving  it.  It  excited  very  different  feelings  in  the  acute 
and  inquiring  mind  of  Dr.  Bryce;  and  resolved,  if  possible,  to  re- 
cover the  valuable  antique,  he  immediately  instituted  a  search  ;  which, 
though  conducted  with  much  patient  industry  for  about  a  twelve- 
month, proved,  to  his  great  regret,  unavailing.  In  1752,  it  occurred 
to  him  that  the  standard  jug  might  have  been  borrowed  by  some  of 
the  coppersmiths  or  braziers,  for  the  purpose  of  making  legal  meas- 
ures for  the  citizens,  and,  by  some  chance,  not  returned.  Having 
been  informed  that  a  person  of  this  description,  named  Urquhart, 
had  joined  the  insurgent  forces  in  1745;  that,  on  his  not  returning, 
his  furniture  and  shop  utensils  had  been  brought  to  sale ;  and  that  va- 
rious articles,  which  had  not  been  sold,  were  thrown  into  a  garret  as 
useless,  a  gleam  of  hope  darted  into  his  mind,  and  he  eagerly  went 
to  make  the  proper  investigation.  Accordingly,  in  that  obscure  gar- 
ret, buried  underneath  a  mass  of  lumber,  he  discovered  the  precious 
object  of  his  research. 

"Thus  was  discovered  the  only  standard,  by  special  statute,  of  all 
liquid  and  dry  measure  in  Scotland,  after  it  had  been  offered  for  sale 
at  perhaps  the  cheap  and  easy  price  of  one  penny,  rejected  as  un- 
worthy of  that  little  sum,  and  subsequently  thrown  by  as  altogether 
useless ;  and  many  years  after  it  had  been  considered  by  its  constitu- 
tional guardians  as  irretrievably  lost.  For  his  '  good  services '  in  re- 
covering the  Stirling  Jug,  Mr.  Bryce  was  presented  with  the  freedom 
of  the  city  of  Edinburgh,  January,  1754." 

Towards  the  close  of  1831,  Robert  made  what  many  may  think  a 
bold  attempt  in  literature.  It  was,  by  a  collection  of  sayings  and 
anecdotes,  "  to  vindicate,  for  the  first  time,  the  pretensions  of  the 
Scottish  nation  to  the  character  of  a  witty  and  jocular,  as  they  are 


SCOTTISH    JESTS     AND     ANECDOTES.  637 

already  allowed  to  be  a  painstaking  and  enlightened  race."  The 
book,  styled  "  Scottish  Jests  and  Anecdotes,"  certainly  contained  a 
prodigious  array  of  good  things,  collected  from  all  imaginable  sources, 
including  personal  experience  in  general  society.  It  being  the  first 
attempt  of  the  kind,  the  editor  says  he  felt  as  if  "  entitled  to  some 
share  of  that  praise  which  is  so  liberally  bestowed  upon  discoverers 
like  Cook  and  Parry,  and  might  expect  to  be  celebrated  in  after 
ages  as  the  first  man  who  extended  the  Geography  of  Fun  beyond  the 
Tweed."  The  work  was  pretty  well  received,  and  went  through  two 
editions;  after  which,  dropping  out  of  notice,  it  was  left  for  the 
Very  Rev.  Dean  Ramsay  to  take  up  the  subject  in  that  more  earnest 
spirit  which  has  insured  a  great  share  of  public  approbation. 

That  my  brother  had  any  merit  in  discovering  that  the  Scotch  are 
a  ' '  witty ' '  people,  will  be  doubted  by  those  who  think  them  inca- 
pable of  getting  beyond  a  certain  species  of  dry  and  caustic  humor. 
One  thing  certainly  remarkable  in  all  works  purporting  to  be  col- 
lections of  Scottish  jests  and  anecdotes,  is  the  abundance  of  droll 
sayings  ai\d  doings  of  parish  ministers,  beadles,  and  old  serving-men. 
As  a  specimen  of  what  Robert  collected  of  this  nature,  we  may  give 
an  anecdote  referring  to  what  he  calls 

THE  UNLUCKY  PRESENT. 

"A  Lanarkshire  minister  (who  died  within  the  present  century) 
was  one  of  those  unhappy  persons,  who,  to  use  the  words  of  a  well- 
known  Scottish  adage,  'can  never  see  green  cheese  but  their  een 
reels.'  He  was  extremely  covetous,  and  that  not  only  of  nice  articles 
of  food,  but  of  many  other  things  which  do  not  generally  excite  the 
cupidity  of  the  human  heart.  Being  on  a  visit,  one  day,  at  the 
house  of  one  of  his  parishioners,  a  poor  lonely  widow,  living  in  a 
moorland  part  of  the  parish,  he  became  fascinated  by  the  charms  of  a 
cast-iron  pot,  which  happened,  at  the  time,  to  be  lying  on  the  hearth, 
full  of  potatoes  for  the  poor  woman's  dinner,  and  that  of  her  chil- 
dren. He  had  never,  in  his  life,  seen  such  a  nice  little  pot — it  was 
a  perfect  conceit  of  a  thing — it  was  a  gem — no  pot  on  earth  could 
match  it  in  symmetry — it  was  an  object  altogether  perfectly  lovely. 
'  Dear  sake!  minister,'  said  the  widow,  quite  overpowered  by  the  rev- 
erend man's  commendations  of  her  pot ;  '  if  ye  like  the  pot  sae 
weel  as  a'  that,  I  beg  ye' 11  let  me  send  it  to  the  manse.  It's  a 
kind  o'  orra'  [superfluous]  '  pot  wi'  us ;  for  we've  a  bigger  ane,  that 
we  use  for  ordinar,  and  that's  mair  convenient  every  way  for  us.  Sae 
ye'll  tak  a  present  o't.  I'll  send  it  ower  the  morn  wi'  Jamie,  when 
he  gangs  to  the  schule.'  '  O  !'  said  the  minister,  'I  can  by  no 
means  permit  you  to  be  at  so  much  trouble.  Since  you  are  so  good 
as  to  give  me  the  pot,  I'll  just  carry  it  home  with  me  in  my  hand. 
I'm  so  much  taken  with  it,  indeed,  that  I  would  really  prefer  carry- 
ing it  myself."  After  much  altercation  between  the  minister  and  the 


638  ROBERT     AND     WILLIAM     CHAMBERS. 

widow  on  this  delicate  point  of  politeness,  it  was  agreed  that  he  should 
carry  home  the  pot  himself. 

"Off  then  he  trudged,  bearing  this  curious  little  culinary  article 
alternately  in  his  hand  and  under  his  arm,  as  seemed  most  convenient 
to  him.  Unfortunately  the  day  was  warm,  the  way  long,  and  the 
minister  fat,  so  that  he  became  heartily  tired  of  his  burden  before  he 
got  half-way  home.  In  these  distressing  circumstances,  it  struck  him 
that  if  instead  of  carrying  the  pot  awkwardly  at  one  side  of  his  per- 
son he  were  to  carry  it  on  his  head,  the  burden  would  be  greatly 
lightened.  Accordingly,  doffing  his  hat,  which  he  resolved  to  carry 
home  in  his  hand,  and  having  applied  his  handkerchief  to  his  brow, 
he  placed  the  pot,  in  inverted  fashion,  upon  his  head.  There  was, 
at  first,  much  relief  and  much  comfort  in  this  new  mode  of  carrying 
the  pot,  but  mark  the  result.  The  unfortunate  minister,  having  taken 
a  by-path  to  escape  observation,  found  himself,  when  still  a  good 
way  from  home,  under  the  necessity  of  leaping  over  a  ditch  which 
intercepted  him  in  passing  from  one  field  to  another.  He  jumped, 
but  unfortunately  the  concussion  given  to  his  person  in  descending 
caused  the  helmet  to  become  a  hood;  the  pot  slipped  down  over  his 
face,  and  resting  with  the  rim  upon  his  neck,  there  stuck  fast.  What 
was  worse  of  all,  the  nose,  which  had  permitted  the  pot  to  slip  down 
over  it,  withstood  every  desperate  attempt  on  the  part  of  its  proprie- 
tor to  make  it  slip  back  again;  the  contracted  part,  or  neck,  of  the 
pot  being  of  such  a  peculiar  formation  as  to  cling  fast  to  the  base  of 
the  nose,  although  it  had  found  no  difficulty  in  gliding  downwardly 
over  it.  Was  ever  minister  in  a  worse  plight?  What  was  to  be 
done?  The  place  was  lonely;  the  way  difficult  and  dangerous;  hu- 
man relief  was  remote,  almost  beyond  reach.  It  was  impossible  even 
to  cry  for  help ;  or  if  a  cry  could  be  uttered,  it  would  not  travel 
twelve  inches  in  any  direction.  To  add  to  the  distresses  of  the  case, 
the  unhappy  sufferer  soon  found  great  difficulty  in  breathing.  What 
with  the  heat  occasioned  by  the  beating  of  the  sun  on  the  metal,  and 
what  with  the  frequent  return  of  the  same  heated  air  to  his  lungs,  he 
was  in  the  utmost  danger  of  suffocation.  Every  thing  considered,  it 
seemed  likely  that  if  he  did  not  chance  to  be  relived  by  some  acci- 
dental wayfarer  there  would  soon  be  death  in  the  pot. 

"The  instinctive  love  of  life,  however,  is  omniprevalent.  Pressed 
by  the  urgency  of  his  distresses,  the  poor  minister  fortunately  recol- 
lected that  there  was  a  smith's  shop  at  the  distance  of  about  a  mile 
across  the  fields,  which  if  he  could  reach  he  might  possibly  find  re- 
lief. Deprived  of  his  eyesight,  he  acted  only  as  a  man  of  feeling, 
and  went  on  as  cautiously  as  he  could  with  his  hat  in  his  hand. 
Half  crawling,  half  sliding,  over  ridge  and  furrow,  ditch  and  hedge, 
the  unhappy  minister  traveled  with  all  possible  speed,  as  nearly  as  he 
could  guess,  in  the  direction  of  the  place  of  refuge.  I  leave  it  to  the 
reader  to  conceive  the  surprise,  the  mirth,  the  infinite  amusement  of 
the  blacksmith  and  all  the  hangers-on  of  the  smiddy,  when,  at  length, 


ROBERT     EDITS     THE      "ADVERTISER."  639 

torn  and  worn,  faint  and  exhausted,  blind  and  breathless,  the  unfor- 
tunate man  arrived  at  the  place  and  let  them  know  (rather  by  signs 
than  by  words)  the  circumstances  ^of  his  case. 

"  The  merriment  of  the  people  who  assembled  soon  gave  way  to 
considerations  of  humanityr  Ludicrous  as  was  the  minister,  with  such 
an  object  where  his  head  should  have  been,  and  with  the  feet  of  the 
pot  pointing  upwards,  it  was  necessary  that  he  should  be  speedily  re- 
stored to  his  ordinary  condition  if  it  were  for  no  other  reason  than 
that  he  might  continue  to  live.  He  was,  accordingly,  at  his  own  re- 
quest, led  into  the  smithy,  by-standers  flocking  around  to  tender  him 
their  kindest  offices  or  to  witness  the  process  of  release  ;  and  having 
laid  down  his  head  upon  the  anvil  the  smith  lost  no  time  in  seizing 
arid  poising  his  goodly  forehammer.  '  Will  I  come  sair  on,  minister  ?' 
exclaimed  the  considerate  man  of  iron  in  at  the  brink  of  the  pot. 
'As  sair  as  ye  like,'  was  the  minister's  answer;  '  better  a  chap  i'  the 
chafts  than  die  for  want  of  breath.'  Thus  permitted,  the  man  let  fall 
a  blow  which  fortunately  broke  the  pot  in  pieces  without  hurting  the 
head  which  it  inclosed,  as  the  cook-maid  breaks  the  shell  of  the  lob- 
ster without  bruising  the  delicate  food  within.  A  few  minutes  of  the 
clear  air,  and  a  glass  of  the  guidwife's  cordial,  restored  the  unfortu- 
nate minister ;  but  assuredly  the  incident  is  one  which  will  long  live 
in  the  memory  of  his  parishioners." 

We  have  not  yet  completed  the  review  of  literary  work  in  which 
Robert  was  engaged  from  about  1829  to  1832.  Busied  as  he  was, 
he  undertook  the  editorship  of  the  Edinburgh  Advertiser,  a  newspaper 
of  old  standing,  as  well  as  an  old  style  of  politics,  that  has  been  lat- 
terly discontinued.  This  species  of  employment  had  the  effect  of 
bringing  him  in  contact  with  some  local  public  characters,  and  of 
widening  his  acquaintanceship  among  the  political  party  who  viewed 
the  proposed  changes  in  the  constitution  with  distrust.  It  may  be 
conceived  that  his  connection  with  the  old  Advertiser  was  not  uncon- 
genial with  the  feelings  of  Sir  Walter  Scott.  But  between  the  great 
novelist  and  my  brother  personal  intercourse  had  ceased,  for  Sir 
Walter  was  now  an  invalid  at  Abbotsford.  Letters,  however,  passed 
between  them,  as  is  observable  from  Robert's  private  papers,  some- 
times in  reference  to  literary  matters,  and  on  other  occasions  concern- 
ing the  introductions  of  strangers.  A  Miss  MacLaughlin,  with  musical 
acquirements,  having  visited  Edinburgh,  besought  for  herself  and  her 
mother  an  introduction  to  Sir  Walter,  which  being  granted,  the  fol- 
lowing letter  was  shortly  afterwards  received,  dated  from  Abbotsford, 
March  7,  1831  : 

"  MY  DEAR  MR.  CHAMBERS, — I  was  quite  happy  to  see  Miss  Mac- 
Laughlin, who  is  a  fine,  enthusiastic  girl,  and  very,  very  pretty  withal. 
They — that  is,  her  mother  and  she — breakfasted  with  me,  though  I 
had  what  is  unusual  at  Abbotsford,  no  female  assistance.  However, 


640  ROBERT     AND     WILLIAM    CHAMBERS. 

we  got  on  very  well,  and  I  prepared  the  young  lady  a  set  of  words 
to  the  air  of  '  Crochallan.'  But  although  Miss  M.  proposed  to  leave 
me  a  copy  of  the  Celtic  harmonies,  I  suppose  the  servant  put  it  in 
her  carriage.  Purdie  is  the  publisher.  Will  you  get  me  a  copy  of 
the  number  containing  '  Crochallan,'  with  a  prose  translation  by  a 
competent  person,  and  let  me  know  the  expense?* 

' '  I  fear  I  can  not  be  of  use  to  you  in  the  way  you  propose,  though 
I  sincerely  rejoice  in  your  success,  and  would  gladly  promote  it ;  but 
Dr.  Abercrombie  threatens  me  with  death  if  I  write  so  much.  I  must 
assist  Lockhart  a  little,  for  you  are  aware  of  our  connection,  and  he 
has  always  shown  me  the  duties  of  a  son ;  but  except  that,  and  my 
own  necessary  work  at  the  edition  of  the  Waverley  Novels,  as  they 
call  them,  I  can  hardly  pretend  to  be  a  contributor,  for,  after  all, 
that  same  dying  is  a  ceremony  one  would  put  off^s  long  as  he  could. 
.!.':.  .  I  am,  dear  Mr.  Chambers,  very  faithfully  yours, 

' '  WALTER  SCOTT.  ' ' 

The  next  letter  received,  which  has  the  date  Abbotsford,  August 
2,  1831,  bears  a  melancholy  record  of  Sir  Walter's  growing  bodily 
weakness : 

"DEAR  MR.  CHAMBERS, — I  received  your  letter  through  Mr. 
Cadell.  It  is  impossible  for  a  gentleman  to  say  no  to  a  request  which 
flatters  him  more  than  he  deserves.  But  even  although  it  is  said  in 
the  newspapers,  I  actually  am  far  from  well.  I  am  keeping  my  head 
as  cool  as  I  can,  and  speak  with  some  difficulty ;  but  I  am  unwilling 
to  make  a  piece  of  work  about  nothing,  and  instead  of  doing  so  I 
ought  rather  to  receive  the  lady  as  civilly  as  I  can.  I  am  much  out, 
riding,  or  rather  crawling  about  my  plantations  in  the  morning  when 
the  weather  will  permit ;  but  a  card  from  Miss  Eccles  will  find  me 
at  home,  and  happy  to  see  her,  although  the  effect  is  like  to  be  dis- 
appointment to  the  lady.  I  am  your  faithful,  humble  servant. 

"  I  have  owed  you  a  letter  longer  than  I  intended ;  but  I  write 
with  pain,  and  generally  use  the  hand  of  a  friend.  I  sign  with  my 
initials  as  enough  to  represent  the  poor  half  of  me  that  is  left,  but 
am  still  much  yours,  W.  S." 

This  appears  to  have  been  the  last  letter  received  by  my  brother 
from  Sir  Walter  Scott. 

*  The  origin  of  the  beautiful  song  of  Chro  Challin  takes  a  conspicuous  place  in 
the  traditions  of  the  Scottish  Gael.  Chro  Challin  is  the  Cattle  of  Colin,  In  the  song, 
a  maiden,  anxious  to  make  out  a  favorable  case  for  her  lover,  who  is  a  hunter,  de- 
scribes him  as  possessing  large  herds ;  but  does  this  in  a  metaphorical  manner,  so 
that,  in  the  long  run,  it  turns  out  that  his  cattle  are  only  the  deer  of  the  mountains. 
.  .  .  Other  romantic  origins  are  given  to  the  song  and  air,  which  still  charm  the 
Highland  ear. — R.  CHAMBERS,  in  Land  of  Burns. 


ANECDOTE     OF     ERSKINE.  641 


-    SOME   REMINISCENCES — 1822    TO   1832. 

Robert's  success  with  the  "Traditions,"  and  my  own  progress  in 
the  new  field  I  had  selected,  left  nothing  to  regret.  The  "Dark 
Ages  "  had  vanished  into  the  dim  past.  The  mediaeval  period  had 
dawned.  There  was  no  longer  a  fierce  skirmishing  with  difficulties, 
but  there  was  much  less  drollery.  As  men  get  up  in  the  world  they, 
as  a  rule,  take  on  the  gravity  which  by  immemorial  usage  pertains  to 
what  are  called  the  respectable  classes.  They  are  likewise  apt  to  part 
convoy  with  a  number  of  individuals  who  have  hitherto  kept  within 
hail.  The  reason  is  plain.  Each,  from  choice,  pursues  his  own  line 
of  navigation.  Mankind  are  roughly  divided,  in  unequal  proportions, 
into  two  sects — those  who  consume  day  by  day  all  they  can  lay  their 
hands  on,  thinking  no  more  of  what  is  to  be  their  fate  in  a  year  or 
ten  years  hence  than  the  lower  animals ;  others — a  much  less  numer- 
ous body — who  are  always  looking  ahead  and  acting  with  less  or 
more  regard  to  the  future.  What  impressive  examples  one  could 
produce  of  these  differences  of  taste  !  Two  young  men,  of  good  edu- 
cation, start  in  life  with  pretty  equal  chances  of  success.  On,e  of 
them  rises  by  gradations  to  be  Lord  Chancellor :  where  do  we  find 
the  other  ?  Seated  with  his  back  to  the  wall,  drawing  figures  in  red 
and  white  chalk  on  a  smooth  piece  of  pavement,  in  the  hope  of  re- 
tiring to  his  evening  haunt  with  the  sum  of  half  a  crown  in  sixpences 
and  half-pence,  to  be  spent  probably  in  the  felicity  of  a  carouse. 
That,  we  may  presume,  is  the  line  of  life  he  has  deliberately  preferred. 
He  had  worked  for  beggary,  and  he  has  got  it.  When  a  man  will 
make  no  sacrifice  of  his  pleasures,  but  sets  his  heart  on  freshly 
beginning  the  world  every  day,  or  every  week,  it  is  not  difficult  to 
do  so.  The  facility  with  which  the  thing  can  be  done  explains  much 
of  what  seems  to  perplex  society  and  drive  it  almost  to  its  wit's 
end. 

In  the  strange  complication  of  human  affairs,  luck,  no  doubt  counts 
for  something ;  but  have  we  properly  considered  what  is  luck  ?  Surely, 
the  business  of  life  can  not  be  said  to  be  conducted  on  the  haphazard 
principles  of  a  game  of  roulette  !  Is  there  no  prearrangement,  no 
Providential  design,  leading  by  a  series  of  circumstances  to  results 
which  have  been  hitherto  shrouded  from  our  finite  intelligence  ?  To 
be  lucky,  as  it  is  called,  one  requires  to  make  some  reasonably  strenu- 
ous exertion — probably  to  make  some  unpleasant  sacrifices.  Erskine 
might  not,  perhaps,  have  risen  to  be  Lord  Chancellor  but  for  the  for- 
tunate sprain  which  caused  him  hastily  to  relinquish  an  intended  visit, 
and  return  home,  where  he  was  waited  on  by  a  worthy  old  maritime 
gentleman,  whose  intricate  case  he  took  up,  mastered,  and  carried 
through  triumphantly.  But  we  must  bear  in  mind  that  he  had  by 
previous  and  toilsome  exertion,  and  no  little  self-sacrifice,  prepared 
himself  to  benefit  by  the  fortunate  accident  which  brought  him  into 


642  ROBERT     AND     WILLIAM     CHAMBERS. 

notice.5''  It  is  a  pity  that  one  has  to  make  so  many  sacrifices  of  incli- 
nations, to  thole  a  good  deal,  possibly  to  relinquish  some  amusements, 
in  order  to  attain  any  thing  like  permanent  comfort ;  but  so  it  is,  and 
ever  will  be.  When  my  brother  and  I  got  emancipated  from  the  Dark 
Ages,  it  was  our  fate  to  proceed  on  a  course  wholly  different  from  that 
which  several  persons  we  had  known  were  pleased  to  pursue.  Their 
policy  being  to  live  all  for  the  present,  and  not  for  the  future,  sent 
us  naturally  -in  opposite  directions.  Apparently  wishing  to  end  as 
they  began,  they  spent  daily  or  weekly  all  they  earned,  and  were 
ever  at  the  same  point  of  progress.  They  doubtless,  however,  en- 
joyed themselves  to  their  own  satisfaction,  and  there  we  must  leave 
them. 

Relaxing  no  effort,  five  to  six  years  had  effected  a  beneficial  change 
of  circumstances.  We  were  both,  in  a  sense,  raised  to  a  higher  plat- 
form, and  had,  indeed,  reached  that  social  status,  if  not  something 
above  it,  which  had  been  lost  by  the  family  calamity  of  1812.  It 
seemed  as  if  the  gales  of  fortune  were  at  length  about  to  blow  stead- 
ily in  our  favor,  without  disturbance  from  any  cross-current.  We 
were  not,  however,  to  be  let  off  so  easily.  Fate  had  one  more  trial 
in  reserve. 

My  father  had  come  to  live  in  Edinburgh.  Afflicted  with  dreary 
recollections,  sometimes  half-distracted,  and  ready  to  catch  at  delu- 
sive hopes,  he  plunged  into  proceedings  which  I  can  only  refer  to 
with  any  degree  of  patience,  from  the  insight  which  they  afforded 
of  new  and  diverting  phases  of  character.  Among  his  dreams  of 
the  past,  he  raked  up  the  fancy  of  trying  to  recover  a  piece  of  prop- 
erty which  had  long  ago  belonged  to  the  family,  but  had  somehow 
been  suffered  to  drift,  improperly,  as  was  alleged,  into  other  hands. 
The  property  in  question  was  a  wretched  old  house,  perhaps  not 
worth  2oo/,  and  the  proposal  of  fighting  for  it  in  the  Court  of  Ses- 
sion was  repugnant  alike  to  my  brother's  feelings  and  my  own.  Un- 
fortunately, any  remonstrances  on  our  part,  and  also  strong  objec- 
tions urged  by  my  mother,  were  unavailing.  The  suit  was  commenced 
and  its  history  might  almost  furnish  materials  for  a  tragi-comic 
drama. 

The  prime  adviser  in  the  case  was  a  person  who,  from  his  reputed 
knowledge  of  law,  was  held  in  high  esteem  by  certain  classes  of  peo- 
ple. He  was  a  neat  little  man,  in  drab  breeches  and  white  woolen 
stockings,  who  labored  under  the  infirmity  of  a  stiff,  crooked  knee, 
on  which  account  he  walked  very  oddly,  by  successive  jerks,  with 
the  help  of  a  stick.  Having  been  bred  in  the  office  of  a  country 
solicitor,  this  erudite  person  had  formed  an  acquaintance  with  legal 
forms  and  technicalities,  and  adding  to  this  a  theoretic  knowledge  of 
Scotch  law  from  Erskine's  "Institutes,"  he  was  qualified,  as  many 
thought,  for  acting  as  counsel  to  those  who  stood  in  need  of  legal 
advice.  With  his  acquirements,  it  was  perhaps  only  as  an  act  of 
*  Campbell's  Lives  of  the  Chancellors, 


A     RED    NOSE     AND     NECKCLOTH.  643 

considerable  condescension  that  he  made  his  living  as  a  dealer  in 
wines,  spirits,  and  other  liquids,  in  an  inferior  part  of  the  city.  As 
a  friend  of  the  oppressed,  the  little  man  had  much  pleasure  in  be- 
stowing his  knowledge  of  the  law  gratis.  He  took  no  fees.  AJ1  he 
expected  from  those  who  favored  him  with  their  company  in  his  pleas- 
ant back-room  was,  that  they  would  pay  for  what  liquor  they  thought 
fit  to  call  for,  and  that  certainly  was  not  unreasonable. 

The  fame  of  this  legal  oracle  traveled  beyond  the  narrow  precincts 
of  the  locality.  His  renown  as  a  gossip  on  legal  and  other  matters 
attracted  the  occasional  visits  of  a  club  of  convivialists,  who  were  in 
the  habit  of  spending  an  hour  or  two  daily  in  discussing  public 
affairs  over  some  inspiriting  liquid  delicacies.  These  assemblages, 
wherever  they  happened  to  be  held,  were  greatly  more  amusing  than 
gatherings  of  this  kind  usually  are,  for  they  were  open  to  all  who, 
with  a  little  time  at  their  disposal,  could  add  to  the  hilarity  of  the 
company.  The  meetings  were  sometimes  honored  with  the  presence 
of  certain  officials  from  the  Excise  Office,  whose  duties,  consisting 
mainly  of  drawing  their  salaries  and  reading  the  morning's  news- 
paper, admitted  of  this  kind  of  recreation.  Among  this  set  there 
were  two  or  three  who  shone  as  stars  of  the  first  magnitude.  It  is 
true  they  related  the  same  jokes  perhaps  daily  for  years,  but  as  the 
sederunt  was  a  variable  body,  and  as  it  was  a  standing  rule  in  this 
club  of  convivialists  to  laugh  at  every  whimsicality,  no  matter  how 
often  repeated,  the  old  jokes  were  always  as  good  as  new. 

One  of  these  assiduous  government  officials  whose  presence  was 
always  peculiarly  acceptable,  was  a  Mr.  Moffat,  a  genteelish,  middle- 
aged  personage,  with  a  red  nose,  dressed  in  a  white  neckcloth  and  a 
blue  coat  with  yellow  metal  buttons,  and  who  was  always  licking 
his  lips,  as  if  he  had  just  partaken  of  some  delicious  repast.  He  had 
one  story  about  himself,  which  he  was  ordinarily  called  on  to  relate : 

"By  the  by,  Mr.  Moffat,  that  was  a  curious  anecdote  you  told  us 
one  day  about  the  Board  of  Excise ;  I  am  sure  the  gentlemen  present 
would  like  to  hear  it." 

"O,  by  all  means;  if  I  can  remember  it  rightly."  Then  bright- 
ening up,  taking  a  sip  at  his  potation,  and  licking  his  lips  with  more 
than  usual  vehemence,  he  would  proceed. 

"Well,  gentlemen,  you  must  know,  I  was  one  day  in  my  room  at 
the  office.  It  was  a  busy  day  with  me.  I  had  to  sign  several  papers 
brought  to  me  by  Grubb.  After  that  was  over,  when  I  was  just  sit- 
ting down  to  the  newspaper,  a  message  was  brought,  requiring  my 
presence  at  the  Board.  I  could  not  imagine  why  I  was  sent  for. 
Surely,  thinks  I,  it  can  not  be  on  account  of  going  out  a  few  min- 
utes daily  for  necessary  refreshments.  However,  there  was  no  time 
to  consider.  So  off  I  went  to  the  Board-room,  trusting  to  put  as 
good  a  face  on  the  matter  as  possible.  Well,  to  be  sure,  there  were 
the  whole  of  the  Commissioners — a  very  full  meeting  that  day — 
seated  around  the  table  covered  with  green  cloth,  each  of  them  with 


644  ROBERT    AND    WILLIAM    CHAMBERS. 

fresh  pens  and  sheets  of  paper  before  him,  as  if  about  to  take  down 
a  deposition.  I  am  going  to  be  pulled  up,  thinks  I.  Things  cer- 
tainly looked  very  bad.  My  feelings  were  a  little  calmed  when  the 
chairman — a  polite  man,  exceedingly  so — requested  me,  in  a  softened 
and  pleasant  tone  of  voice,  to  take  a  chair  near  him.  Well,  gentle- 
men, I  sat  down  accordingly,  making  a  bow  to  the  Board.  The 
chairman  then  addressed  me :  '  Mr.  Moffat,  the  Commissioners  have 
had  a  great  difficulty  under  their  consideration.  It  is  a  thing  of  no 
small  importance,  for  it  concerns  the  interest  of  the  Department. 
Some  of  the  Commissioners  incline  to  one  view  of  the  matter,  and 
some  to  another.  In  short,  not  to  keep  you  in  suspense,  that  which 
puzzles  the  Board  is  the  pronunciation  of  a  word — a  very  important 
word ;  not,  indeed,  that  I  am  puzzled,  for  my  mind  is  clear  upon 
the  subject.  To  settle  the  matter  definitely,  we  appeal  to  you. 
Knowing  your  scholarly  acquirements,  and  more  particularly  your 
acquaintance  with  the  drama  and  the  correct  elocution  of  the  stage, 
we  have  agreed  to  abide  by  your  decision.'  Here,  of  course,  I 
again  bowed.  'Yes,'  continued  the  chairman,  'we  put  ourselves 
into  your  hands.  To  be  perfectly  fair,  I  will  not  utter  the  word, 
but  write  it  down,  letter  by  letter,  thus: 

R-e-v-e-n-u-e, 

and  leave  you .  to  determine,  how  it  should  be  pronounced. '  I  felt 
honored.  I  had  for  years  studied  the  word.  I  had  made  up  my 
mind  about  it.  Bowing  once  more  to  the  Board,  and  turning  to- 
wards the  chairman,  I  said :  '  Sir,  I  feel  the  importance  of  the  occa- 
sion. That  word  is  certainly  a  very  important  word.  It  is  a  word 
in  which  the  whole  nation  has  a  very  great  interest.  Knowing  espe- 
cially its  value  to  the  Department,  I  have  for  years  made  it  my  study, 
and  will  state  the  opinion  at  which  I  have  arrived.  The  common  or 
vulgar  pronunciation  of  the  word  is  Revenue;  but  that  is  decidedly 
incorrect.  The  true  pronunciation,  which  /  hold  by,  is  that  of  John 
Kemble — namely  Reven'ue — a  heavy  emphasis  to  be  laid  on  the  «.' 
Instantly  there  was  a  shout  of  applause  from  various  members  of  the 
Board,  and  the  chairman,  who  was  vastly  pleased,  said  to  me  most 
emphatically :  '  Thank  you,  Mr.  Moffat ;  you  and  I  must  eat  mutton 
together." 

Influenced  by  frequent  and  animated  consultations  with  the  smart 
little  man  with  the  crooked  knee,  and  convinced  that  he  had  Erskine 
on  his  side,  my  father  passed  into  the  hands  of  an  habitue  of  the  back- 
room, a  man  of  advanced  age,  who  wore  a  brown  duffel  great-coat 
and  a  low-crowned  hat,  whose  function  consisted  in  bringing  cases  to 
certain  practitioners  before  the  supreme  courts.  I  saw  him  once  or 
twice.  In  character  and  appearance  he  reminded  me  of  the  miser- 
able order  of  professionals  whom  I  had  seen  in  the  Old  Tolbooth. 
His  coarse  features  possessed  the  singular  faculty  of  appearing  to 


"PILLAGE   AND    PLUNDER,"    OF    THE   LAW.      645 

smile  in  the  lower  department,  while  they  were  grave  and  thoughtful 
above,  the  line  of  division  of  the  two  expressions  being  across  from 
the  point  of  the  nose.  My  father  was  introduced  by  this  legal  jackal 
to  an  operator  in  whom  he  said  he  had  every  confidence ;  having 
first  assured  himself  that  there  were  persons  behind  backs  who  would 
be  good  for  the  expenses.  At  this  time  there  were  practitioners  in 
Edinburgh  well  qualified  in  the  art  of  fleecing.  One  of  them  was 
known  in  the  Parliament  House  under  the  jocose  name  of  Pillage, 
while  another  of  the  same  category  was  called  Plunder.  Each  had  a 
son  who  helped  in  his  father's  business,  and  hence  people  pleasantly 
spoke  of  Old  Pillage  and  Young  Pillage,  and  Old  Plunder  and 
Young  Plunder.  Both  firms  were  believed  to  be  one  concern.  They 
were  in  some  sort  a  confederacy,  which,  through  the  devices  of 
scouts,  like  the  gentleman  in  the  brown  duffel  great-coat  and  low- 
crowned  hat,  procured  the  conducting  of  cases  pro  and  con;  and 
they  would  jointly  so  manage  matters  through  a  dragged-out  process, 
for  which  the  forms  of  court  offered  opportunities,  that  the  respective 
litigants  did  not  get  a  final  decision  till  not  another  shilling  could  be 
wrung  from  them. 

In  the  present  unhappy  case  the  end  came  with  more  than  usual 
celerity,  for  means  soon  ran  dry.  My  father,  as  we  all  foresaw, 
lost  his  suit,  and  my  brother  and  I,  as  had  been  safely  prognosticated, 
had  to  stand  in  the  breach  and  incur  obligations,  in  order  to  avert 
certain  unpleasant  consequences.  It  is  sickening  to  think  what  suf- 
ferings are  incurred  through  the  follies  of  litigation.  Money  that  I 
could  ill  spare  was  swept  away,  and  Robert  lost  a  large  part  of  what 
he  had  realized  by  the  "Traditions,"  as  much,  I  think,  as  about 
two  hundred  pounds.  The  only  grudge  entertained  on  the  subject 
was,  that  the  money  should  have  been  sacrificed  so  unworthily. 
These  losses  kept  us  back  one  or  two  years. 

It  was  about  this  time  that  the  family  renewed  acquaintance  with  a 
clerical  functionary,  who,  through  his  wife,  was  somehow,  in  a  re- 
mote degree,  related  to  us.  I  recollected  seeing  him  among  the 
habitual  visitors  of  the  Tolbooth,  where,  with  the  reputation  of  being 
a  worthy  man,  who  had  been  unfortunate  in  life,  and  always  took  a 
lenient  view  of  human  infirmities,  he  was  held  in  general  esteem. 
He  held  the  office  of  Morning  Lecturer  in  one  of  the  city  churches, 
an  antiquated  benefice  in  the  gift  of  the  magistrates  and  council.  His 
duty  was  to  preach  early  in  the  Sunday  mornings,  for  which  he  re- 
ceived some  thirty  pounds  a  year.  Since  1639,  when  the  office  was 
instituted  by  the  bequest  of  David  Mackall,  a  pious  citizen,  the  fancy 
for  going  to  church  before  breakfast  had  so  greatly  fallen  off  that  the 
congregation  consisted  usually  of  only  the  precentor  and  a  respectable 
spinster  of  middle  age,  who  occupied  a  floor  in  the  Lawnmarket,  and 
who,  of  all  the  inhabitants  of  Edinburgh,  appreciated  the  Morning 
Lecturer  for  his  discourses. 

To  judge  \from  his  bulk,  gravity  of  aspect,  and  tastefully  powdered 


646  ROBERT    AND     WILLIAM     CHAMBERS. 

white  hair,  this  amiable  divine  might  have  stood  high  in  ecclesiastical 
matters.  Of  no  point  in  his  personal  appearance,  however,  was  he 
so  proud  as  his  nails.  These  nails  of  his,  as  every  body  soon  learned 
from  his  wife,  were  a  singularly  precious  inheritance.  They  had 
come  into  his  family  a  long  time  ago  through  his  great-grandmother, 
an  heiress,  who  had  married,  her  friends  thought,  beneath  her.  In 
some  of  her  descendants,  "the  nails"  cast  up,  and  in  others  they 
did  not.  Our  friend  was  one  of  the  lucky  owners ;  and  with  his 
handsome  token  of  aristocracy,  as  also  a  certain  solemnity  of  features, 
his  parents  resolved  to  make  him  a  minister.  Not  very  fortunate  in 
his  career,  it  was  well  for  him  that  he  could  derive  some  consolation 
from  the  points  of  his  fingers,  seeing  that  the  support  of  a  family 
and  the  rent  of  a  dwelling  in  an  upper  floor  had  to  be  encountered, 
with  no  more  to  depend  on  in  the  regular  course  of  things  than  the 
small  salary  assigned  to  him  by  the  civic  corporation.  As  to  that 
salary,  it  was  the  Morning  Lecturer's  fixed  opinion  that  he  was 
shamefully  cheated.  He  always  maintained  that  the  magistrates  and 
council  had  grossly  misappropriated  Mackall's  bequest,  and  that,  if 
he  had  his  due,  he  should,  at  the  very  least,  have  a  thousand  a  year. 
Before  his  face,  people  condoled  with  him  about  his  misusage ;  but, 
excepting  perhaps  the  aforesaid  spinster,  no  one  actually  thought 
him  to  be  underpaid. 

So  long  as  the  Old  Tolbooth  lasted,  the  lecturer  possessed  a  pleas- 
ant forenoon  resort,  where  there  was  always  something  doing  in  the 
way  of  general  conviviality.  Mingling  in  the  festivities  of  the  West 
Enders,  he  was  in  reality  among  friends  and  customers  whom  he 
served  in  the  clerical  line  of  business.  For  years  he  had  managed 
to  eke  out  his  means  of  livelihood  by  baptizing  the  children  of  per- 
sons who  did  not  claim  membership  with  any  of  the  ordinary  congre- 
gations, and  who  had  a  special  dislike  to  answering  troublesome 
questions.  His  flock,  in  this  respect,  were  a  scattered  body  all  over 
the  Old  Town,  but  with  a  certain  density  about  the  Fleshmarket  Close 
and  the  head  of  the  Canongate. 

In  undertaking  jobs  for  his  employers,,  this  accommodating  divine 
preferred  visiting  them  at  their  own  homes  in  the  evening,  at  which 
time,  under  the  blaze  of  candle-light,  and  with  the  mellowing  influ- 
ence of  supper,  the  heart  is  more  beneficently  inclined  than  during 
the  day.  It  being  contrary  to  rule  in  Scotland  to  receive  fees  for 
religious  solemnities,  this  poor  clergyman  resorted  to  a  device,  which 
for  a  time  mitigated  the  distresses  of  the  household.  The  Being  who 
tempers  the  wind  to  the  shorn  lamb,  gave  him  a  child,  who  was  for  a 
time  the  daily  provider  of  his  family.  This  child,  Bobby,  was  a  boy 
in  petticoats,  who  had  the  misfortune  to  have  a  bad  squint,  but  by 
raising  emotions  of  compassion,  the  squint  was  rather  a  good  thing 
than  otherwise.  As  soon  as  Bobby  was  able  to  toddle  about,  he  in- 
variably accompanied  papa  on  his  baptismal  excursions.  Before  set- 
ting out,  his  mother  provided  him  with  a  small  but  conspicuous 


THEIR     FATHERS     DECEASE.  647 

pocket  of  colored  silk,  which  she  hung  outside  his  dress,  ready  for 
receiving  any  money-present  which  might  be  munificently  slipped 
into  it,  in  requital  of  the  religious  ordinance  that  was  performed. 

It  was  an  interesting  thing  to  see  the  pair,  father  and  child,  sally 
out,  after  the  street-lamps  were  lit,  on  a  mission  to  the  foot  of  some 
long,  dingy  close,  and  there  to  climb  up  some  long,  crooked  stair, — 
the  father  stumping  on  his  faded  tartan  cloak,  with  his  cane  in  one 
hand,  and  holding  Bobby  with  the  other, — both  gleeful  of  what  would 
possibly  be  deposited  in  that  pretty  little  pocket,  and  of  what  pleasure 
there  would  be  in  taking  it  home  to  mamma.  Bobby  relished  these 
expeditions  into  the  by-corners  of  the  city,  although  the  long  dark 
stairs  were  almost  too  much  for  his  little  legs ;  and  when  kept  late  he 
was  apt  to  get  sleepy.  But  he  was  usually  treated  to  something  nice 
by  the  hostess,  «md  had  the  satisfaction  at  departure  of  finding  a 
crown-piece — occasionally  half  a  guinea,  wrapped  in  a  piece  of 
paper — lying  at  the  bottom  of  his  pocket,  about  which  there  was  not 
a  little  sprightly  talk  on  the  way  home. 

I  heard  the  Morning  Lecturer  speak  of  a  frightful  piece  of  villainy 
that  had  been  perpetrated  on  Bobby,  amounting,  as  he  thought,  to 
worse  than  sacrilege.  On  one  occasion,  the  reward  slipped  into  the 
child's  pocket  was  a  coin  wrapped  in  paper,  which,  on  inspection 
at  a  street  lamp,  proved  to  be  only  a  farthing,  a  circumstance  which 
we  may  take  as  indicating  the  class  of  persons  to  whom  these  spiritual 
services  were  occasionally  rendered.  On  the  whole,  the  produce  of 
the  child's  wallet  for  several  years  kept  the  wolf  from  the  door ;  and 
it  was  a  great  grief  to  the  family  that  Bobby  at  length  grew  too 
big  for  petticoats,  and  also  too  big  to  be  taken  uninvited  to  baptisms. 
What  with  the  removal  of  that  dear  old  haunt,  the  Tol booth,  and 
afterwards  Bobby's  overgrowth  for  financial  purposes,  it  was  a  sad 
business  for  our  poor  friend,  whose  last  days  in  his  upper  flat  were, 
as  we  had  occasion  to  know,  not  quite  so  comfortable  as  befitted  one 
with  such  a  superior  quality  of  nails,  or  who  was  so  useful  a  member 
of  the  clerical  profession. 

Now  came  a  domestic  affliction.  My  unfortunate  father  never  got 
over  the  loss  of  his  lawsuit,  and  the  way  he  had  been  led  into  it  by 
the  versatile  genius  with  the  crooked  knee,  and  his  coadjutor  in  the 
duffel  great-coat.  Under  his  accumulation  of  disasters  and  fresh 
cankering  reminiscences,  ascribable  in  a  great  degree  to  his  excessive 
simplicity  of  character,  he  died  in  November,  1824,  in  the  week  of 
those  conflagrations  of  which  Robert  has  given  some  account. 

Shortly  alter  the  issue  of  the  "Traditions,"  it  became  expedient 
for  me  to  relinquish  printing,  and  to  adhere  more  exclusively  to  other 
branches  of  business  including  some  undertakings  of  a  literary  nature. 
The  parting  with  my  poor  little  press,  which  had  latterly  been  super- 
seded by  newer  mechanism,  was  uot  unaccompanied  with  that  kind 
of  regret  with  which  one  bids  farewell  to  an  old  and  cherished  com- 
panion. It  is  pleasing,  however,  to  know  that  it  did  not  suffer  de- 


648  ROBERT    AND     WILLIAM    CHAMBERS. 

struction,  but  was  purchased  by  a  person  in  Glasgow,  who  aspired  to 
begin  as  a  printer  in  a  way  similar  to  myself;  and  for  any  thing  I 
know  to  the  contrary,  this  little  machine  may  still  be  creaking  and 
wheezing  on  the  banks  of  the  Clyde,  for,  like  many  who  are  afflicted 
with  asthma,  it  possessed  a  wonderful  degree  of  vitality. 

Partly  with  the  design  of  furnishing  a  companion  to  the  "  Picture 
of  Scotland,"  I  commenced  a  work,  purporting  to  describe  the  insti- 
tutions, secular  and  religious,  peculiar  to  our  northern  kingdom,  and 
which  I  styled  the  "Book  of  Scotland."  The  work  required  con- 
siderable research  as  well  as  personal  knowledge,  and  the  task  was  one 
for  which  I  avow  myself  to  have  been  ill  qualified.  I  sold  it  to  a 
publisher  for  thirty  pounds.  It  is  now  very  properly  forgotten.  In- 
dependently of  its  imperfections,  the  subjects  treated  of  would  now 
stand  in  need  of  a  new  elucidation,  in  consequence  of  innumerable 
recent  legislative  alterations.  Poor  as  was  this  production,  it  pro- 
cured me  the  honor  of  being  employed  along  with  Robert  to  prepare 
the  "Gazetteer  of  Scotland"  for  a  publisher;  the  price  to  be  paid 
for  it  being  a  hundred  pounds.  It  was  to  be  a  compilation  from  all 
available  and  trustworthy  sources,  along  with  such  original  matter  as 
could  reasonably  be  infused  into  it.  To  impart  a  sufficient  degree  of 
freshness,  I  made  several  pedestrian  journeys  to  different  parts  of  the 
country,  gathering  here  and  there  particulars  which  I  thought  would 
be  of  value. 

In  these  excursions  I  had  necessarily  to  husband  time  and  exercise 
a  pretty  rigorous  economy.  Lodging  at  the  humbler  class  of  inns, 
my  expenses  did  not  exceed  a  few  shillings  a  day.  My  object  was  to 
see  as  many  places  as  possible,  and  fix  their  situation  and  appearance 
in  my  mind.  I  took  notes  only  of  dates,  inscriptions,  and  other 
matters  demanding  great  precision.  I  now  found  the  value  of  cul- 
tivating the  memory,  and  of  having  learned  to  rely  on  recollections 
of  places  which  I  had  seen.  From  practice,  I  acquired  the  art  of 
summoning  up  the  remembrance  of  scenes  and  places  which  I  had 
visited,  and  persons  I  had  seen,  even  to  very  minute  particulars. 
Gathering  and  storing  up  observations  in  this  way,  I  traversed  Fife 
and  the  lower  parts  of  Perth  and  Forfar  •shires.  My  longest  stretch 
in  one  day  was  from  the  neighborhood  of  Cupar  to  Edinburgh,  by 
Lochlevin,  Kinross,  Dunfernline,  Inverkeithing,  and  Queensferry,  a 
stretch  of  forty  miles,  varied  by  the  passage  of  the  ferry.  It  was  a 
delightful  ramble  in  a  long  day  in  June,  which  left  the  most  pleasing 
recollections,  notwithstanding  that  I  was  a  little  footsore  on  reaching 
home.  By  such  means  as  this  I  was  able  to  impart  some  originality 
to  the  ordinary  descriptions  of  the  "Gazetteer." 

Although  my  brother  was  ostensibly  associated  with  me  in  this  pro- 
duction, his  duties  were  chiefly  those  of  final  supervisor  of  the  press. 
As  the  work  was  a  thick  octavo  volume,  double  columns,  in  small 
type,  the  mere  penmanship  of  it  extended  to  ten  thousand  pages, 
many  of  which  i  wrote  twice  or  thrice  over,  to  insure  accuracy.  My 


THEIR     "GAZETTEER    OF    SCOTLAND."  649 

share  of  the  price  of  copyright  was  seventy  pounds.  This  book  was 
a  great  literary  exercise,  and  as  such,  remuneration  was  of  inferior 
consequence.  I  wrote  the  whole  of  it,  as  I  had  previous  productions, 
behind  the  counter,  amidst  the  involvements  and  interruptions  of 
ordinary  business,  by  which  means  I  acquired  a  kind  of  facility  of 
dropping  and  resuming  a  subject  at  a  moment's  notice,  which  proved 
of  considerable  value.  To  finish  the  work  at  the  appointed  time,  I 
was  frequently  compelled  to  remain  at  the  desk  for  two  or  three  hours 
after  closing  up  for  the  night.  The  labor  incurred  by  so  much 
thinking  and  writing,  together  with  close  application  otherwise,  un- 
ameliorated  with  any  sort  of  recreation,  brought  on  an  illness  which 
for  some  time  assumed  a  threatening  appearance.  But  this  was  hapily 
got  over  without  any  permanently  bad  effects. 

The  publication  of  the  "  Gazetteer"  helped,  perhaps,  to  bring  me 
a  little  more  into  notice;  but  if  local  notoriety  was  desirable,  that 
was  incidentally  effected  by  writing  a  series  of  letters  in  an  Edin- 
burgh newspaper,  concerning  that  species  of  civic  administration 
which  terminated  shortly  afterwards  in  a  financial  collapse.  These 
letters  bore  my  name,  for  it  has  been  with  me  a  rule  in  life  never  to 
write  an  anonymous  letter.  If  ever  there  was  an  instance  of  the 
value  of  this  species  of  candor,  it  was  on  the  present^  occasion.  The 
letters  engaged  public  attention,  and  when  issued  in  a  collected  form 
in  a  small  pamphlet,  the  sale  was  immense.  On  looking  back  to  this 
exploit,  I  feel  that  the  strictures  were  much  too  severe,  and  visited 
on  individuals  that  which  properly  belonged  to  a  system. 

Though  these  and  some  other  literary  exercises  were  of  no  pecun- 
iary advantage  adequate  to  the  time  and  trouble  spent  upon  them, 
they  were  immensely  serviceable  as  a  training,  preparatory  to  the  part 
which  it  was  my  destiny  to  take  in  the  cheap  literature  movement  of 
modern  times.  It  is  regarding  that  movement,  and  the  change  which 
it  wrought  in  my  brother's  as  well  as  in  my  own  course  of  life,  that 
something  is  now  to  be  said. 

CHEAP  LITERATURE   MOVEMENT   OF    1832. 

Not  the  least  curious  thing  about  the  rise  of  cheap  literature  in  the 
form  of  detached  sheets  in  our  times  is,  that  it  is  in  reality  a  "Re- 
naissance." Differing  only  in  degree,  it  is  a  revival  of  what  had  long 
passed  away  and  been  popularly  forgotten.  Let  us  look  a  little  into 
the  matter  historically,  saying  a  few  words,  in  the  first-place,  regarding 
the  oldest  cheap  literature  of  all, — the  Penny  Chap  Books  of  our 
simple-minded  lorefathers.  Like  the  corresponding  Folk  Lore  of  the 
Germans,  the  old  Chap  Books,  consisting  of  coarsely  printed  sheets, 
duodecimo,  embellished  with  equally  coarse  frontispieces,  aimed  at 
no  sort  of  instruction,  such  as  we  now  understand  by  the  term;  yet 
they  furnished  amusement  to  the  humble  fireside.  They  appealed  to 
the  popular  love  of  the  heroic,  the  marvelous,  the  pathetic,  and  the 
humorous.  Many  of  them  were  nothing  more  than  an  embodiment 


650  ROBERT    AND     WILLIAM     CHAMBERS. 

of  the  legends,  superstitions,  ballads,  and  songs,  which  had  been  kept 
alive  by  oral  tradition  before  the  invention  of  printing.  Supersti- 
tions, as  may  be  supposed,  formed  the  stable  material.  So  numerous 
were  the  books  for  telling  fortunes,  discovering  and  averting  witch- 
craft, narrating  the  appearance  of  ghosts,  prognosticating  the  weather, 
interpreting  dreams,  and  explaining  lucky  and  unlucky  days,  that  the 
extent  and  depth  of  public  credulity  must  have  been  immense. 

Objectionable  and  pitiable  in  character  as  were  the  greater  num- 
ber of  Chap  Books,  miserable  as  they  were  in  appearance  and  aim, 
they  were  nevertheless  to  be  taken  as  illustrative  of  popular  intelli- 
gence and  taste  during  the  lengthened  period  in  which  they  bore  rule; 
and  as  such,  reflect  a  certain  light  on  the  social  progress  of  Great 
Britain.  It  would  seem,  indeed,  that  just  as  a  crop  of  worthless  in- 
digenous plants  grow  up  on  a  meager  uncultivated  soil,  so  do  Chap 
Books  spring  up  in  the  mental  infancy  of  the  common  people,  and 
continue  till  displaced  by  a  literature  equally  entertaining,  but  of  a 
standard  which  corresponds  to  a  state  of  higher  advancement.  An- 
other consideration  suggests  itself.  A  country  may  be  renowned  for 
its  scholarship,  its  science,  its  exquisite  proficiency  in  the  fine  arts, 
and  yet  not  be  beyond  its  Chap  Book  era.  Such  is  the  case  at  this 
moment  in  Italy,  where  took  place  the  revival  of  letters,  where  uni- 
versities have  longest  existed,  and  where  sculpture  and  painting  have 
for  ages  been  carried  to  an  enviable  pitch  of  excellence.  With  start- 
ling discordance,  under  the  very  shadow  of  the  university  of  Padua, 
the  cathedral  of  Milan,  and  the  glorious  galleries  of  the  Uffizi  at  Flor- 
ence, a  Chap  Book  literature  is  copiously  dispersed,  as  primitive  in 
character  and  as  poor  in  appearance  as  any  thing  which  satisfied  our 
illiterate  peasantry  of  a  past  age.  The  moral  that  may  be  drawn 
from  the  fact  of  a  country  being  rich  in  universities,  and  at  the  same 
time  abounding  in  books  for  interpreting  dreams  and  expounding 
lucky  numbers  in  the  lottery,  will  occur  to  every  one. 

Pervading  town  and  country  as  a  literature  in  request  among  all 
the  humbler  classes  who  could  read,  English  and  also  Scottish  Chap 
Books  were  extirpated  by  no  edict,  but  disappeared  slowly  through 
the  united  effects  of  education,  and  a  demand  for  something  equally 
exhilarating  and  much  more  comformable  to  improved  manners  and 
feelings.  Some  circumstances,  not  to  be  referred  to  without  regret, 
conspired  to  prolong  the  Chap  Book  era  beyond  the  time  at  which 
it  would  probably  have  vanished.  Newspapers,  which  began  to  as- 
sume a  determinate  form  as  miscellaneous  intelligencers  about  the 
period  of  the  Restoration,  attained  to  a  considerable  standing  and 
popularity  shortly  after  1695,  when  they  were  relieved  from  the 
licensing  act  that  had  hitherto  oppressed  them.  The  press,  now  in 
effect  free,  and  the  public  mind  entering,  as  it  were,  on  the  new 
phase  which  had  been  initiated  at  the  Revolution,  we  are  led  by  in- 
numerable evidences  to  conclude  that  a  great  change  was  about  to 
ensue  in  the  matter  of  popular  literature. 


OLD     ERA     OF     CHEAP    LITERATURE.  651 

We  see  the  dawn  of  this  hopeful  transition  in  the  reign  of  Queen 
Anne,  when  much  was  done,  and  much  more  was  unscrupulously 
checked.  We  now  look,  not  without  surprise,  on  penny  newspapers 
and  penny  literary  sheets,  but  these  are  no  new  thing.  There  were 
papers  of  both  kinds,  or  of  a  mixed  nature,  equally  low-priced,  a 
hundred  and  fifty  years  ago.  As  yet  these  cheap  papers  did  not 
attempt  to  supersede  the  Chap  Book  literature,  but  can  not  doubt 
that  such  must  soon  have  been  the  issue.  Let  me  pause  for  a  mo- 
ment on  this  outcrop  of  improved  popular  prints  at  the  commence- 
ment of  the  eighteenth  century. 

The  first  cheap  periodical  which  contained  observations  written 
with  literary  skill  was  a  paper  called  the  Review,  begun  by  Daniel 
Defoe  while  he  was  confined  in  Newgate  for  publishing  his  ironical 
pamphlet,  "A  Short  and  Easy  Way  with  the  Dissenters."  In  spite 
of  depressing  circumstances,  he  kept  up  his  Review  for  nine  years, 
Commencing  in  1704,  it  lasted  till  1713,  and  formed  the  pred- 
ecessor of,  as  well  as  the  exemplar  for,  the  Tattler,  which  was  begun 
in  1709  by  Richard  Steele,  assisted  by  his  friend  Addison.  The 
Tattler  appeared  three  times  a  week,  and  was  sold  for  a  penny.  Soon 
after  its  close  in  1711,  the  same  writer  commenced  the  Spectator,  also 
issued  at  a  penny,  but  appearing  daily.  Here,  then,  to  all  appear- 
ance, was  a  most  auspicious  beginning  of  a  cheap  and  popular  liter- 
ature, of  a  quality  which  leaves  us  nothing  to  regret,  but  very  much 
to  admire.  One  can  scarcely  write  with  any  degree  of  temper  of  the 
overthrow  of  so  promising  a  department  of  literature. 

As  early  as  1701,  a  bill  had  been  brought  into  parliament  to  im- 
pose a  half-penny  stamp  on  newspapers;  but  such  was  the  clamor 
raised  by  the  printers,  that  the  scheme  was  dropped.  Beat  off  for  a 
time,  the  House  of  Commons,  which  had  then  little  sympathy  with 
social  progress,  successfully  renewed  the  attack  on  the  press,  and  the 
1 2th  of  August,  1712,  saw  the  newspapers,  as  well  as  the  purely  liter- 
ary sheets,  issued  with  a  stamp;  a  half-penny  if  half  a  sheet,  and  a 
penny  if  a  whole  sheet.  At  the  same  time,  a  tax  of  a  shilling  was 
imposed  on  every  advertisement.  The  pretext  for  these  measures 
was  a  wish  to  stem  allegedly  impertinent  discussions  on  public  affairs. 
But  the  good  was  swept  down  as  well  as  the  bad.  The  Spectator, 
which  had  been  the  vehicle  for  the  noble  writings  of  Addison,  imme- 
diately experienced  a  severe  reverse.  The  price  was  doubled,  to 
meet  the  new  expenses,  but  the  expedient  failed.  Any  rise  in  the 
charge  for  a  cheap  periodical  is  generally  fatal  to  its  circulation. 
After  a  vain  struggle,  the  Spectator  expired  in  1713.  No  man  in  the 
present  day  would  dare  to  vindicate  the  policy  which  thus  obstructed 
the  growth  of  a  wholesome  popular  literature.  That  there  was  as  yet 
neither  capital  nor  mechanical  appliance  to  facilitate  the  issue  of 
large  impressions,  is  admitted.  But  who  can  tell  what  might  have 
ensued  under  an  unrestricted  issue  of  newspapers,  and  the  cheaper 
kinds  of  literary  sheets  ? 


652  ROBERT    AND     WILLIAM     CHAMBERS. 

It  is  painful  to  peruse  the  history  of  what  followed.  Such  was  the 
growing  demand  for  newspapers,  that  there  were  constant  attempts, 
some  of  them  wonderfully  successful,  to  evade  the  law.  In  the  reign 
of  George  II,  unstamped  half-penny  and  penny  sheets  were  sold  to 
such  an  extent  by  hawkers  in  the  streets  of  London,  that  an  act  was 
passed  in  1743  to  suppress  this  contraband  traffic,  and  any  newsboy 
who  dared  to  offer  one  of  these  low-priced  intelligericers  did  so  at 
the  risk  of  three  months'  imprisonment.  Additional  stamp  and  other 
duties,  though  in  various  ways  repressive,  never  utterly  quenched  the 
chief  popular  press,  and  only  postponed  its  final  triumph.  Embarrassed 
with  fiscal  duties,  the  news  and  literary  sheets  which  struggled  on 
through  the  reign  of  the  first  three  Georges  were,  along  with  the 
magazines  and  reviews  that  sprung  into  popularity,  of  no  small  im- 
portance in  rearing  and  primarily  affording  a  maintenance  to  a  brill- 
iant series  of  eighteenth-century  writers:  Defoe,  Steele,  Addison, 
Johnson,  Goldsmith,  Smollett,  and  others. 

Although  books,  chiefly  reprints,  were  in  time  cheapened  and 
greatly  popularized  by  a  series  of  enterprising  publishers,  beginning 
with  Alexander  Donaldson  (father  of  the  founder  of  Donaldson's 
Hospital,  Edinburgh),  and  although  books  of  all  kinds  were  ren- 
dered generally  accessible  by  circulating  libraries,  the  more  aspiring 
of  the  humbler  orders,  particularly  those  at  a  distance  from  towns, 
still  experienced  great  difficulty  in  procuring  works  to  improve  their 
knowledge  or  entertain  their  leisure  hours.  Perusing  the  memoirs  of 
Robert  Burns,  James  Ferguson,  Thomas  Telford,  George  Stephenson, 
and  others  who,  by  dint  of  genius  and  painstaking  study,  raised 
themselves  from  obscurity  to  distinction,  we  perceive  what  were  their 
difficulties  in  getting  hold  of  books;  such  as  they  did  procure  being 
mostly  borrowed  from  kindly  disposed  neighbors. 

Usually,  in  these  untoward  circumstances,  the  mind  of  the  rustic 
youth  took  the  direction  of  rhyming  in  the  style  of  Ramsay  and 
Robert  Fergusson.  This  was  specially  observable  in  the  cases  of  Tel- 
ford,  who,  while  still  a  journeyman  mason  in  his  native  Eskdale, 
contributed  verses  to  Ruddiman's  Weekly  Magazine,  under  the  un- 
pretending signature  of  " Eskdale  Tarn."  In  one  of  these  composi- 
tions, which  was  addressed  to  Burns,  he  sketched  his  own  character, 
and  the  efforts  he  made  to  improve  his  stock  of  knowledge  by  poring 
over  a  borrowed  volume  with  no  better  light  than  what  was  afforded 
by  the  cottage  fire : 

"  Nor  pass  the  tentic  curious  lad, 
Who  o'er  the  ingle  hangs  his  head, 
And  begs  oe  neighbors  books  to  read; 

For  hence  arise 
Thy  country's  sons,  who  far  are  spread, 

Baith  bold  and  wise." 

So  matters  remained;  the  protracted  French  War  and  its  imme- 
diate consequences  postponing  any  substantial  improvement,  at  least 


SCOTT'S    NOVELS,    ETC.  653 

as  regarded  the  less  affluent  classes.  From  1815  till  1820,  while  the 
marvelous  fictions  of  Scott  and  the  poems  of  Byron  were  issuing 
with  rapidity  from  the  press,  low  priced  and  scurrilous  prints/'  min- 
istering to  the  fancies  of  the  seditious  and  depraved,  were  also  pro- 
duced in  vast  numbers.  It  was  an  era  of  transition  from  war  to 
peace,  and  as  yet  society  had  not  composed  itself  decoriously  in  the 
new  state  of  things.  There  was  much  to  rectify,  and  little  patience 
was  exercised  in  the  process ;  and,  above  all,  there  was  little  or  no 
harmony  among  the  different  classes  of  the  community.  So  much 
may  be  mentioned  to  extenuate  the  unscrupulous  character  of  the 
cheap  political  prints  that  swept  over  the  country,  which  time,  free 
discussion,  and  various  meliorations  would  have  counteracted  or  ex- 
tinguished. More  abrupt  measures,  however,  were  adopted.  Cer- 
tain statutes  killed  off  the  whole  at  a  blow  in  1820. 

No  cheap  unstamped  paper  could  be  safely  attempted  immediately 
after  this,  unless  it  were  purely  literary,  and  abstained  from  any  com- 
ment on  public  affairs.  Of  this  class  was  the  obscure  periodical  at- 
tempted by  my  brother  and  myself  in  1821.  In  1822,  a  cheap 
weekly  sheet,  styled  the  Mirror,  was  begun  in  London  by  John  Lim- 
bird,  but  with  little  pretensions  to  original  writing.  It  was  illustrated 
with  wood  engravings,  was  generally  amusing,  and  so  far  might  be 
defined  as  a  step  in  the  right  direction. 

From  about  this  time,  benevolently  disposed  and  thoughtful  men 
set  about  devising  methods  for  improving  the  intelligence  and  profes- 
sional skill  of  artisans.  The  School  of  Arts,  the  earliest  of  its  class, 
was  founded  in  Edinburgh  in  1821.  Two  years  later,  Dr.  Birdbeck 
founded  a  Mechanics'  Institution  in  London,  and  another  in  Glas- 
gow. How  views  of  this  nature  should  now  have  at  length  assumed 
a  practical  shape  would  lead  to  a  too  lengthened  exposition.  Refer- 
ence may  merely  be  made  to  the  influence  exercised  by  the  writings 
of  Scott,  Campbell,  Wordsworth,  Southey,  and  Byron  during  the 
early  years  of  the  century ;  likewise  to  the  efficacy  of  the  newer  class 
of  reviews  and  magazines,  as  well  as,  more  lately,  the  improved  char- 
acter of  the  newspaper  press.  Permeating,  as  it  were,  down  through 
society,  literature,  in  various  inviting  forms,  had  vivified  and  brought 
to  the  surface  new  orders  of  readers,  and,  besides,  set  a  fashion  for 
seeking  recreation  in  books  and  periodicals,  which  was  favorable  to 
any  cheapening  of  these  engines  of  instruction  and  entertainment. 

To  causes  of  this  nature  are  we  chiefly  to  impute  the  Mechanics' 
Institution  movement,  and  what  was  coeval  with  it,  the  rise  of  the 
Society  for  the  Diffusion  of  Useful  Knowledge,  which  was  founded  in 
1825.  Viewed  as  a  distinct  and  imposing  effort  to  stimulate  the  pop- 
ular understanding,  this  association,  with  all  the  mistakes  which 
marked  its  short  career,  is  never  to  be  spoken  of  without  respect.  As 
is  well  known,  the  Society  was  commenced  under  the  auspices  of 
several  noblemen  and  gentlemen,  who  have  for  the  greater  part  left 
their  impress  on  the  age — Lords  Auckland  and  Althorp  (afterwards 


654  ROBERT    AND    WILLIAM     CHAMBERS. 

Earl  Spencer),  Lord  John  Russell,  Lord  Brougham,  Sir  James  Mack- 
intosh, Matthew  D.  Hill,  Dr.  Maltby,  Mr.  Hallam,  and  Captain  Basil 
Hall,  to  which  a  long  list  of  names  could  be  added.  The  object  of 
the  Society  was  to  issue  a  series  of  cheap  treatises  on  the  exact  sci- 
ences, and  on  various  branches  of  knowledge.  In  1827,  the  year 
which  saw  the  first  of  the  Society's  works,  Archibald  Constable,  a 
man  of  bold  conceptions,  commenced  the  issue  of  his  "Miscellany" 
of  volumes  of  a  popular  kind ;  and  others  catching  the  contagion, 
for  a  time  there  was  a  perfect  deluge  of  works,  designed  for  the  in- 
struction and  amusement  of  the  multitude,  and  so  moderate  in  price, 
that  no  one  could  now  complain  of  being  unable  to  fill  his  shelves 
at  a  small  outlay.  We  also  ought  not  to  forget  the  service  done  to 
literature  by  such  papers  as  the  Literary  Gazette  and  Athenceum,  this 
last  surviving  as  the  representative  of  its  class. 

It  is  interesting  to  look  back  on  those  times,  and  note  the  progres- 
sive steps  towards  a  thoroughly  cheap  yet  original  and  wholesome 
literature.  There  was  merit  in  the  very  shortcomings  and  failures, 
for,  with  their  temporary  or  partial  success,  they  showed  that  the 
public  were  not  indisposed  to  support  that  in  which  they  could  have 
reason  to  place  confidence.  Some  mistakes  had  been  committed. 
The  prints  suppressed  in  1820  had  dealt  principally  in  invective,  of 
which  no  good  can  come.  And  those  which  were  established  after- 
wards, such  as  the  Mirror,  were  purposeless  in  their  aims. 

The  reign  of  William  IV  was  the  true  era  of  the  revival  of  cheap 
periodical  literature.  The  political  agitations  of  1831,  by  stirring  up 
the  popular  feelings,  helped  materially  to  stimulate  the  appetite  for 
what  would  excite,  instruct,  and  amuse.  So  far  as  the  humbler  orders 
were  concerned,  it  almost  appeared  as  if  the  art  of  printing,  through 
certain  mechanical  appliances — particularly  the  paper-making  machine 
and  the  printing-machine — was  only  now  effectually  discovered. 

To  meet  the  popular  demand,  a  number  of  low-priced  serials  of  a 
worthless  or  at  least  ephemeral  kind  were  issued  in  London  in  1831. 
At  the  same  time,  there  were  several  set  on  foot  in  Edinburgh.  The 
forerunner  and  best  of  these  was  styled  the  Cornucopia,  which  con- 
sisted of  four  pages,  folio,  and  was  sold  for  three  half-pence.  The 
editor  and  proprietor  of  this  popular  sheet  was  George  Mudie,  a 
clever  but  erratic  being,  who,  I  believe,  had  been  a  compositor.  As 
the  Cornucopia  contained  a  quantity  of  amusing  matter,  and  in  point 
of  size  resembled  a  newspaper,  it  was  deemed  a  marvel  of  cheapness; 
for  at  this  time  the  ordinary  price  of  a  newspaper  was  fivepence. 
Eminently  successful  as  a  commercial  undertaking,  Mr.  Mudie's 
sheet,  if  properly  conducted,  could  not  have  failed  to  be  permanently 
successful. 

As  a  bookseller,  I  had  occasion  to  deal  in  these  cheap  papers. 
One  thing  was  greatly  against  them.  They  were  frequently  behind 
time  on  the  day  of  publication  ;  and  any  irregularity  in  the  appear- 
ance of  periodicals  is  generally  fatal.  It  was  also  obvious  that  they 


PUBLICATION     OF      "CHAMBER'S     JOURNAL."         655 

were  conducted  on  no  definite  plan.  They  consisted  for  the  most 
part  of  disjointed  and  unauthorized  extracts  from  books,  clippings 
from  floating  literature,  old  stories,  and  stale  jocularities.  With  no 
purpose  but  to  furnish  temporary  amusement,  they  were,  as  it  appeared 
to  me,  the  perversion  of  what,  if  rightly  conducted,  might  become  a 
powerful  engine  of  social  improvement.  Pondering  on  this  idea,  I 
resolved  to  take  advantage  of  the  evidently  growing  taste  for  cheap 
literature,  and  lead  it,  as  far  as  was  in  my  power,  in  a  proper  direc- 
tion. 

It  is,  I  think,  due  to  myself  and  others  to  offer  this  explanation. 
I  have  never  aspired  to  the  reputation  of  being  the  originator  of  low- 
priced  serials ;  but  only,  as  far  as  I  can  judge,  the  first  to  make  a 
determined  attempt  to  impart  such  a  character  to  these  productions 
in  our  own  day,  as  might  tend  to  instruct  and  elevate  independently 
of  mere  passing  amusement.  Professionally,  I  considered  that  the  at- 
tempt was  a  noble  and  fair  venture,  one  for  which  I  might  not  be  dis- 
qualified by  previous  literary  experiences,  humble  as  these  had  been. 
The  enterprise  promised  to  be  at  least  in  concord  with  my  feelings. 

Before  taking  any  active  step,  I  mentioned  the  matter  to  Robert. 
Let  us,  I  said  endeavor  to  give  a  reputable  literary  character  to  what 
is  at  present  mostly  mean  or  trivial,  and  of  no  permanent  value ;  but 
he,  thinking  only  of  the  not  very  creditable  low-priced  papers  then 
current,  did  not  entertain  a  favorable  opinion  of  my  projected  un- 
dertaking. With  all  loyalty  and  affection,  however,  he  promised  to 
give  me  what  literary  assistance  was  in  his  power,  and  in  this  I  was 
not  disappointed.  Consulting  no  one  else,  and  in  that  highly  wrought 
state  of  mind  which  overlooks  all  but  the  probability  of  success,  I  at 
length,  in  January  1832,  issued  the  prospectus  of  Chambers' s  Edinburgh 
Journal,  a  weekly  sheet  at  three  half-pence.  Announcing  myself  as 
editor,  I  stated  that  "  no  communications  in  verse  or  prose  were 
wanted."  In  this,  there  was  an  air  of  self-confidence,  not  perhaps 
to  be  justified,  but,  as  showing  that  my  periodical  was  not  to  be 
composed  of  the  contributions  of  anonymous  and  irresponsible  cor- 
respondents, the  effect  was  on  the  whole  beneficial. 

The  first  number  appeared  on  Saturday,  the  4th  of  February,  1832. 
It  contained  an  opening  address,  written  in  a  fervid  state  of  feeling, 
as  may  be  judged  by  the  following  passages : 

"The  principle  by  which  I  have  been  actuated,  is  to  take  advan- 
tage of  the  universal  appetite  for  instruction  which  at  present  exists ; 
to  supply  to  that  appetite  food  of  the  best  kind,  in  such  form  and  at 
such  price  as  must  suit  the  convenience  of  every  man  in  the  British 
dominions.  Every  Saturday,  when  the  poorest  laborer  in  the  country 
draws  his  humble  earnings,  he  shall  have  it  in  his  power  to  purchase 
with  an  insignificant  portion  of  even  that  humble  sum,  a  meal  of 
healthful,  useful,  and  agreeable  mental  instmction.  Whether  I  suc- 
ceed in  my  wishes,  a  brief  space  of  time  will  determine.  I  throw 
myself  on  the  good  sense  of  my  countrymen  for  support ;  and  all  I 


656  ROBERT    AND     WILLIAM     CHAMBERS. 

seek  is  a  fair  field  wherein  to  exercise  my  industry  in  their  service. 
It  may  perhaps  be  considered  an  invidious  remark,  when  I  state  as 
my  humble  conviction,  that  the  people  of  Great  Britain  and  Ireland 
have  never  yet  been  properly  cared  for,  in  the  way  of  presenting 
knowledge  under  its  most  cheering  and  captivating  aspect,  to  their 
immediate  observation.  The  scheme  of  diffusing  knowledge  has  cer- 
tainly been  more  than  once  attempted  by  associations  established 
under  peculiar  advantages.  Yet,  the  great  end  has  not  been  gained. 
The  dearth  of  the  publications,  official  inflexibility,  and  above  all, 
the  plan  of  attaching  the  interests  of  political  or  ecclesiastical  parties 
to  the  course  of  instruction  or  reading,  have  separately  or  conjunctly 
circumscribed  the  limits  of  the  operation ;  so  that  the  world,  on  the 
whole,  is  but  little  the  wiser  with  all  the  attempts  which  have  been 
made.  The  strongholds  of  ignorance,  though  not  unassailed,  remain 
to  be  carried.  Carefully  eschewing  the  errors  into  which  these 
praiseworthy  associations  have  fallen,  I  take  a  course  altogether  novel. 
Whatever  may  be  my  political  principles,  neither  these  nor  any  other 
which  would  be  destructive  of  my  present  views,  shall  ever  mingle 
in  my  observations  on  the  arrangements  of  civil  society."  I  con- 
cluded by  notifying  the  species  of  subjects  which  would  receive  par- 
ticular attention. 

High  as  were  my  expectations,  the  success  of  the  work  exceeded 
them.  In  a  few  days  there  was,  for  Scotland,  the  unprecedented  sale 
of  fifty  thousand  copies ;  and  at  the  third  number,  when  copies 
were  consigned  to  an  agent  in  London  for  dispersal  through  Eng- 
land, the  sale  rose  to  eighty  thousand,  at  which  it  long  remained, 
with  scarcely  any  advertising  to  give  it  publicity.  To  the  best  of  my 
recollection,  all  the  other  cheap  papers  issued  in  Edinburgh  immedi- 
ately disappeared.  In  London,  some  also,  were  dropped,  but  others 
sprung  up  in  their  stead.  For  a  time,  indeed,  there  was  not  a  week 
which  had  not  a  new  serial ;  but  few  of  these  candidates  for  public 
approval  outlived  the  second  or  third  number.  So  many  began  and 
never  went  farther,  that  a  gentleman  whom  we  happened  to  hear  of 
possessed  a  large  pile  of  first  numbers  of  periodicals  of  which  a  second 
never  appeared. 

On  the  3ist  of  March,  1832,  being  about  six  weeks  after  the  com- 
mencement of  Chambers' s  Journal,  appeared  the  first  number  of  the 
Penny  Magazine  of  the  "  Society  for  the  Diffusion  of  Useful  Knowl- 
edge." We  learn  from  Mr.  Charles  Knight,  its  publisher,  that  the 
Penny  Magazine  was  suggested  to  him  on  a  morning  in  March,  and 
that  the  Lord  Chancellor  (Brougham),  who  was  waited  on,  cordially 
entered  into  the  project,  which  was  forthwith  sanctioned  by  the 
Committee  of  the  Society.*  The  Penny  Magazine  begun  under  such 

*  Passages  in  a  Working  Life,  vol.  ii.  p.  180.  This  explanation  disposes  of  a 
strange  mistake  which  a  writer  has  fallen  into,  doubtless  from  erroneous  information, 
regarding  Chambers 's  Journal.  He  speaks  of  my  having  seen  a  prospectus  of  the 


"PENNY    MAGAZINE"   A  FAILURE.  657 

distinguished  auspices,  and  which,  as  is  understood,  had  a  very  large 
circulation,  terminated  unexpectedly  in  1845  >  though  not  without 
having  exerted,  during  its  comparatively  brief  career,  an  influence, 
along  with  similar  publications,  in  stimulating  the  growth  of  that 
cheap  and  wholesome  literature  which  has  latterly  assumed  such 
huge  proportions. 

Why  the  Penny  Magazine,  with  its  alleged  success  as  regards  cir- 
culation, its  large  array  of  artists  and  writers,  and  its  body  of  distin- 
guished patrons,  should  have  perished  so  prematurely,  while  there 
were  still  considerable  strongholds  of  ignorance  to  be  attacked,  no 
one  has  ever  ventured  to  explain.  A  silence  equally  mysterious  hangs 
over  the  close  of  the  Useful  Knowledge  Society,  the  proceedings  of 
which  were  so  vigorously  heralded  and  sustained  by  articles  in  the 
Edinburgh  Review,  that  no  one  could  say  the  association  failed  for 
want  of  recommendation  from  the  highest  literary  quarters.  In  the 
absence  of  any  explanations  on  the  subject,  it  may  be  conjectured 
that  with  all  the  ability  displayed,  and  the  best  intentions  of  every 
one  concerned,  the  treatise  of  the  society  were  on  the  whole  too 
technical  and  abstruse  for  the  mass  of  operatives ;  they  made  no 
provision  for  the  culture  of  the  imaginative  faculties ;  and,  in  point 
of  fact,  were  purchased  and  read  chiefly  by  persons  considerably  re- 
moved from  the  obligation  of  toiling  with  their  hands  for  their  daily 
bread.  In  a  word,  they  may  be  supposed  to  have  been  distasteful  to 
the  popular  fancy.  If  any  other  reason  be  wanted,  it  probably  lay 
in  the  fact  ttyat  a  society  can  not,  as  a  rule,  compete  with  private 
enterprise. 

It  is  not  my  duty  to  sit  as  critic  on  aims  and  efforts  not  unlike 
my  own.  There  are  different  ways  of  doing  things,  and  it  may 
happen  that  one  is  as  good  as  another.  All  that  need  be  said  is, 
that  it  has  been  a  matter  of  congratulation,  that  Chambers' s  Journal 
owed  nothing,  in  its  inception  or  at  any  part  of  its  career,  to  the 
special  patronage  or  approval  of  any  sect,  party,  or  individual.  In 
the  whole  proceedings  of  my  brother  and  myself,  we  never  courted 
the  countenance  or  recommendation  of  any  person  or  persons,  or  of 
any  body  of  people,  civil  or  religious ;  and  after  an  experience  of 
forty  years,  circumstances  would  point  to  the  conclusion  that  this  has 
not  been  the  worst,  besides  being  the  least  obsequious,  line  of  policy. 

Penny  Magazine  a  long  time  before  the  periodical  itself  appeared  ;  that  I  forwarded 
to  the  promoters  certain  suggestions  calculated  to  improve  the  chances  of  its  success ; 
that  no  answer  being  vouchsafed,  my  self-love  was  wounded ;  and  that  I  determined 
to  realize  my  unappreciated  ideas  myself,  in  the  form  of  Chambers' s  Jottrnal.  This 
is  altogether  incorrect.  I  did  not  hear  of  the  Penny  Magazine,  nor  could  I,  till 
shortly  before  its  appearance,  and  after  the  Journal  had  been  some  weeks  estab- 
lished. 


658  ROBERT     AND     WILLIAM     CHAMBERS. 


THE   CONDUCTING   OF    "  CHAMBERS* S   JOURNAL." 

As  in  the  case  of  a  dissolving  view,  when,  as  if  by  magic,  a  bleak 
wintry  scene  is  transformed  into  a  landscape  glowing  with  the  warmth 
and  verdant  garniture  of  summer,  so  by  the  appearance  of  the  Jour- 
nal, and  the  wide  popularity  it  secured,  was  there  effected  an  agree- 
able and  wholly  unforseen  change  on  my  own  condition,  and  that  of 
others  connected  with  me.  The  revolution  was  abrupt,  and  of  a  kind 
not  to  be  treated  with  indifference.  The  moderate  and  not  very 
conspicuous  business  in  which  I  had  been  engaged  was  immediately 
relinquished,  in  consequence  of  the  absorbing  and  prospectively  ad- 
vantageous literary  enterprise  in  which  I  had  embarked ;  and  remov- 
ing to  a  central  part  of  the  town,  new  and  enlarged  premises  were 
acquired.  Until  the  fourteenth  number  of  the  work,  Robert  was  only 
in  the  position  of  contributor.  Then  abandoning  his  separate  pro- 
fessional relations,  he  became  joint  editor,  and  was  also  associated 
with  me  in  the  firm  of  W.  &  R.  Chambers. 

Had  Chambers' s  Journal  been  commenced  in  London,  no  mechani- 
cal difficulty  would  have  been  experienced.  The  case  was  very  dif- 
ferent in  Edinburgh,  where,  at  the  time,  there  were  obstructions  as 
regards  both  paper  and  printing.  John  Johnstone,  a  genial  old  man, 
husband  of  the  authoress  of  "  Clan  Albyn,"  and  other  novels,  was  a 
printer,  and  by  him  the  work  was  for  a  time  executed,  as  well  as  it 
could  be  in  the  circumstances.  Other  printers  were  -afterwards  em- 
ployed, but  their  hand-presses,  even  with  relays  of  men  toiling  night 
and  day,  proved  altogether  inadequate  for  the  large  impressions  that 
were  required.  At  length,  a  set  of  stereotype  plates  of  each  number 
was  sent  weekly  to  London,  from  which  copies  were  printed  for 
circulation  in  England  ;  while  from  another  set  impressions  were 
executed  in  Edinburgh  by  machines  which  we  procured  for  the 
purpose.  Steam  settled  the  difficulty.  The  work  was  at  first  a  sheet 
folio,  subsequently  the  size  was  reduced  to  a  quarto,  and  at  last  to  an 
octavo  form. 

Entering  on  the  comprehensive  design  of  editing,  printing,  and 
publishing  works  of  a  popularly  instructive  and  entertaining  tendency, 
Robert  and  I  were  for  a  considerable  length  of  time  alone, — our 
immediately  younger  brother,  James,  having,  to  our  distress,  died  in 
February,  1833,  —  and  such  was  the  degree  of  mutual  confidence 
between  us,  that  not  for  the  space  of  twenty-one  years  was  it  thought 
expedient  to  execute  any  memorandum  of  agreement. 

Though  unusual,  the  combination  of  literary  labor  with  the  busi- 
ness of  printing  and  publishing,  is  not  without  precedent.  We  may- 
call  to  mind  the  examples  set  by  Edward  Cave,  Samuel  Richardson, 
and  Robert  Dodsley  last  century.  We  might,  indeed,  point  to  Sir 
Walter  Scott  in  our  own  times  ;  the  only  thing  to  be  deplored  in  the 
case  of  that  great  man  being  that  he  kept  his  connection  with  the 


EACH     A     HELP      TO      THE     OTHER.  659 

printing  establishment  of  the  Ballantynes  a  profound  secret,  through 
an  apprehension  of  losing  caste  among  his  law  friends,  instead  of 
avowedly,  like  Richardson,  becoming  the  printer,  as  well  as  holder  of 
the  copyrights,  of  his  own  productions. 

A  happy  difference,  yet  some  resemblance,  in  character,  proved  of 
service  in  the  literary  and  commercial  union  of  Robert  and  myself. 
Mentally,  each  had  a  little  of  the  other,  but  with  a  wide  divergence 
in  matters  requisite  as  a  whole.  One  could  not  have  well  done  with- 
out the  other.  With  mutual  help  there  was  mutual  strength.  All 
previous  hardships  and  experiences  seemed  to  be  but  a  training  in 
strict  adaptation  for  the  course  of  life  opened  up  to  us  in  1832. 
Nothing  could  have  happened  better — a  circumstance  which  may  per- 
haps go  a  little  way  towards  inspiring  hopes  and  consolations  among 
those  who  may  be  destined  to  pass  through  a  similar  ordeal. 

The  permanent  hold  on  the  public  mind  which  the  Journal  for- 
tunately obtained,  was  undoubtedly  owing,  in  a  very  great  degree,  to 
the  leading  articles,  consisting  of  essays,  moral,  familiar,  and  humor- 
ous, from  the  pen  of  my  brother.  My  own  more  special  duties  were 
confined  for  the  most  part  to  papers  having  in  view  some  kind  of 
popular  instruction,  particularly  as  regards  the  young,  whom  it  was 
attempted  to  stimulate  in  the  way  of  mental  improvement.  There 
likewise  fell  to  my  share  the  general  administration  of  a  concern 
which  was  ever  increasing  in  dimensions.  In  conducting  the  Journal, 
the  object  never  lost  sight  of  was  not  merely  to  enlighten,  by  pre- 
senting information  on  matters  of  interest,  and  to  harmlessly  amuse, 
but  to  touch  the  heart,  to  purify  the  affections,  thus,  if  possible,  im- 
parting to  the  work  a  character  which  would  render  it  universally 
acceptable  to  families. 

At  no  time  was  there  any  attempt  to  give  pictorial  illustrations  of 
objects  in  natural  history,  the  fine  arts,  or  any  thing  else.  Without 
undervaluing  the  attractions  of  wood-cut  engravings,  the  aims  of  the 
editors  were  in  a  different  direction.  Their  desire,  it  will  be  per- 
ceived, was  to  cultivate  the  feelings  as  much  as  the  understanding. 
Hence  the  endeavor  to  revive,  in  a  style  befitting  the  age,  the  essay 
system  of  last  century.  In  this  effort,  it  may  be  allowable  to  say 
that  Robert  was  eminently  successful.  His  own  explanations  on  the 
subject,  embraced  in  the  preface  to  a  collection  of  his  essays  (pub- 
lished in  1847),  are  worthy  of  being  quoted: 

"It  was  in  middle  life  that  I  was  induced  to  become  an  essayist, 
for  the  benefit  of  a  well-known  periodical  work  established  by  my 
elder  brother.  During  fifteen  years  I  have  labored  in  this  field, 
alternately,  gay,  grave,  sentimental,  philosophical,  until  not  much 
fewer  than  four  hundred  separate  papers  have  proceeded  from  my  pen. 
These  papers  were  written  under  some  difficulties,  particularly  those 
of  a  provincial  situation,  and  a  life  too  studious  and  recluse  to  afford 
much  opportunity  for  the  observation  of  social  characteristics.  Yet 


660  ROBERT     AND     WILLIAM    CHAMBERS. 

perhaps  these  restraints  have  had  some  good  effect  on  the  other  hand, 
in  making  the  treatment  of  subjects  less  local  and  less  liable  to  the 
accidents  of  fashion  than  it  might  otherwise  have  been.  One  ruling 
aim  of  the  author  must  be  taken  into  account :  it  was  my  design  from 
the  first  to  be  the  essayist  of  the  middle  class — that  in  which  I  was 
born  and  to  which  I  continued  to  belong.  I  therefore  do  not  treat 
their  manners  and  habits  as  one  looking  de  haut  en  has,  which  is  the 
usual  style  of  essayists,  but  as  one  looking  around  among  the  firesides 
of  my  friends.  For  their  use  I  shape  and  sharpen  my  apothegms; 
to  their  comprehension  I  modify  any  philosophical  disquisitions  on 
which  I  have  entered.  Every-where  I  have  sought  less  to  attain  ele- 
gance or  observe  refinement  than  to  avoid  that  last  of  literary  sins — 
dullness.  I  have  endeavored  to  be  brief — direct ;  and  I  know  I  have 
been  earnest.  As  to  the  sentiment  and  philosophy,  I  am  not  aware 
that  any  particular  remark  is  called  for.  The  only  principles  on 
which  I  have  been  guided  are,  as  far  as  I  am  aware,  these :  whatever 
seems  to  be  just,  or  true,  or  useful,  or  rational,  or  beautiful,  I  love 
and  honor;  wherever  human  woe  can  be  lessened,  or  happiness  in- 
creased, I  would  work  to  that  end  ;  wherever  intelligence  and  virtue 
can  be  promoted,  I  would  promote  them.  These  dispositions  will,  I 
trust,  be  traced  in  my  writings." 

The  year  that  saw  the  beginning  of  Chambers 's  Journal  brought 
gloom  over  the  literary  world.  After  an  unavailing  search  for  health 
in  the  south  of  Europe,  Sir  Walter  Scott  returned  to  Abbotsford  in 
the  course  of  the  summer,  to  die.  The  scene  was  gently  closed  on 
the  2ist  of  September,  1832.  The  funeral  of  this  illustrious  Scots- 
man was  appointed  to  take  place  on  Wednesday  the  26th.  Among 
the  very  few  mourners  from  Edinburgh  who  attended  were  my  brother 
and  myself.  We  saw  the  remains  of  the  great  man  laid  with  appro- 
priate solemnities  in  his  grave  amid  the  picturesque  ruins  of  Dry- 
burgh. 

Indebted  to  Sir  Walter  for  so  many  kindnesses  some  years  previ- 
ously, and  in  correspondence  with  him  till  the  close  of  1831,  my 
brother  felt  that  he  had  lost  his  most  honored  friend;  Almost  imme- 
diately he  proceeded  to  write  a  memoir  of  the  deceased  from  such 
materials  as  were  within  reach,  as  well  as  from  personal  recollections. 
The  memoir  w.as  issued  by  us  in  a  popular  form  and  had  an  extraor- 
dinary sale,  as  many  as  eighty  thousand  copies.*  It  is  referred  to  in 
the  following  letter  from  Allan  Cunningham,  with  whom  my  brother  had 
opened  a  correspondence.  The  letter  is  for  other  reasons  interesting : 

"  27  LOWER  BELGRAVE  PLACE,  2yth  of  October,  1832. 
"My  DEAR  SIR — Your  letter  was  a  welcome  one.  •  It  is  written 
with  that  frank  openness  of  heart  which  I  like,  and  contains  a  wish, 

*  This  memoir  has  been  revised  and  reissued,  Life  of  Sir  Walter  Scott,  by  Robert 
Chambers,  LL.  D.,  with  Abbotsford  Notanda,  by  Robert  Carruthers,  LL.  D.  (1871). 


ALLAN     CUNNINGHAM.  66l 

which  was  no  stranger  to  my  own  bosom,  that  we  should  be  known 
to  each  other.  You  must  not  suppose  that  I  have  been  influenced  in 
my  wish  by  the  approbation  with  which  I  know  your  works  have  been 
received  by  your  country.  It  is  long  since  I  took  to  judging  in  all 
matters  for  myself,  and  the  '  Picture  of  Scotland '  and  the  '  Tradi- 
tions of  Edinburgh,'  both  of  which  I  bought,  induced  me  to  wish 
Robert  Chambers  among  my  friends.  There  was,  perhaps,  a  touch  or 
so  of  vanity  in  this — your  poetic,  ballad-scrap,  auld-world,  new-world, 
Scottish  tastes  and  feelings  seemed  to  go  side  for  side  with  my  own. 
Be  so  good,  therefore,  as  to  send  me  your  promised  '  Book  of  Ballads,' 
and  accept  in  return,  or  rather  in  token  of  future  regard,  active  and 
not  passive,  my  'Rustic  Maid  of  Elvar,'  who  has  made  her  way 
through  reform  pamphlets  and  other  rubbish,  like  a  lily  rising  through 
the  clods  of  the  spring.  There  's  a  complimentary  simile  in  favor.of 
myself  and  my  book  !  You  must  not,  however,  think  ill  of  it  because 
I  praise  it;  but  try  and  read  it,  and  tell  me  what  you  feel  about  it. 

" I  have  been  much  pleased  with  your  account  of  Sir  Walter  Scott; 
it  wears  such  an  air  of  truth,  that  no  one  can  refuse  credence  to  it, 
and  is  full  of  interesting  facts  and  just  observations.  I  have  no  inten- 
tion of  expanding,  or  even  of  correcting,  my  own  hasty  and  inac- 
curate sketch.  Mr.  Lockart  will  soon  give  a  full  and  correct  life  of 
that  wonderful  man  to  the  world.  The  weed  which  I  have  thrown  on 
his  grave — for  I  can  not  call  it  a  flower — may  wither  as  better  things 
must  do.  Some  nine  thousand  copies  were  sold;  this  we  consider 
high,  though  nothing  comparable,  I  know,  to  the  immense  sale  of 
Chambers' s  Journal.1  I  am  truly  glad  of  your  great  circulation  ;  your 
work  is  by  a  thousand  degrees  the  best  of  all  the  latter  progeny  of  the 
press.  It  is  an  original  work,  and  while  it  continues  so  must  keep  the 
lead  of  the  paste  and  scissors  productions.  My  wife,  who  has  just 
returned  from  Scotland,  says  that  your  Journal  is  very  popular  among 
her  native  hills  of  Galloway.  The  shepherds,  who  are  scattered  there 
at  the  rate  of  one  to  every  four  miles  square,  read  it  constantly,  and 
they  circulate  it  in  this  way :  the  first  shepherd  who  gets  it  reads  it, 
and  at  an  understood  hour  places  it  under  a  stone  on  a  certain  hill- 
top ;  then  shepherd  the  second  in  his  own  time  finds  it,  reads  it,  and 
carries  it  to* another  hill,  where  it  is  found  like  Ossian's  chief  under 
its  own  gray  stone  by  shepherd  the  third,  and  so  it  passes  on  its  way, 
scattering  information  over  the  land. 

"  My  songs,  my  dear  sir,  have  all  the  faults  you  find  with  them,  and 
some  more.  The  truth  is,  I  am  unacquainted  with  any  other  nature  save 
that  of  the  Nith  and  the  Solway,  and  I  must  make  it  do  my  turn.  I 
am  like  a  bird  that  gathers  materials  for  its  nest  round  its  customary 
bush,  and  who  sings  in  his  own  grove,  and  never  thinks  of  moving 
elsewhere.  The  affectations  of  London  are  as  nothing  to  me;  in  my 
'  Lives  of  the  Painters,'  I  have,  however,  escaped  from  my  valley,  and 
on  other  contemplated  works  I  hope  to  show  that  though  I  sing  in 


662  ROBERT     AND     WILLIAM     CHAMBERS. 

the  charmed  circle  of  Nithsdale,  I  can  make  excursions  in  prose  out 
of  it,  and  write  and  think  like  a  man  of  the  world  and  its  ways. 

"  I  remain,  my  dear  sir,  with  much  regard,  yours  always, 

"ALLAN  CUNNINGHAM. 

"To  ROBERT  CHAMBERS,  Esq." 

It  was  gratifying  for  us,  as  editors  of  Chambers  Journal,  to  receive 
the  approbation  and  good  wishes  of  so  prodigious  a  popular  favorite 
as  "Honest  Allan,"  for,  independently  of  the  wide  circulation  of 
the  work,  his  good  word  was  an  assurance  that  the  principles  on  which 
it  had  been  started  and  inflexibly  maintained,  were  commendable.  It 
will  now  seem  strange  to  mention,  that  the  success  of  this  unassum- 
ing periodical  led  to  species  of  persecution.  On  all  hands  we  were 
beset  with  requests  to  give  it  the  character  of  a  "  religious  publica- 
tion." It  was  in  vain  for  us  to  state  that  that* was  not  our  role ;  that 
our  work  was  addressed  to  persons  of  all  shades  of  thinking,  religious 
and  secular,  and  that  we  could  not,  without  violation  of  our  original 
profession,  take  a  side  with  any  one  in  particular.  We  only  got 
abused,  and  were  called  names.  The  era  of  this  species  of  persecu- 
tion, for  such  it  was,  however  grotesque  and  ridiculous,  extended  for 
nearly  twenty  years  after  the  commencement  of  the  work ;  and  we 
had  often  cause  to  be  amused  with  the  unreasonableness  of  the  de- 
mands which  were  preferred,  also  to  wonder  if  others  in  like  circum- 
stances were  similarly  assailed. 

On  one  occasion  we  were  impelled  to  address  our  readers,  partly 
in  explanation  of  the  reasons  for  maintaining  the  principles  on  which 
the  Journal  was  established.  Some  passages  may  be  quoted  as  speci- 
fying the  literary  character  of  the  work  : 

"  With  so  many  good  results  before  us,  it  would  surely  be  unwise 
were  we  to  alter  our  plans  in  order  to  please  the  fancies  of  any  sect, 
party,  or  individual.  It  is  our  firm  conviction  that  any  attempt  to 
do  so  would  be  attended  by  failure.  The  many  would  be  lost  for  the 
sake  of  the  few  who  would  be  gained,  and  the  work  would  soon 
dwindle  into  deserved  insignificance.  So  much  we  say  in  all  friend- 
liness to  those  who  seem  inclined  to  fasten  upon  us  functions  for  which 
we  have  no  vocation.  No,  no ;  we  must  decline  usurping  the  mission 
of  the  politician  and  the  divine ;  we  must  leave  the  newspaper  and 
the  evangelical  magazine  to  follow  out  their  respective  aims.  To  us, 
be  it  enough  that  we  hold  by  the  original  charter  of  our  constitution. 
Chambers' s  Journal  shall  never  be  written  for  this  or  that  country, 
nor  to  meet  this  or  that  fashion  of  opinion,  but  to  remain  to  the  end 
what  it  has  been  from  the  beginning  :  a  Literary  Miscellany,  aspiring 
to  inculcate  the  highest  order  of  morals,  universal  brotherhood,  and 
charity ;  to  present  exalted  views  of  Creative  Wisdom  and  Provi- 
dential Care ;  and  to  impart  correct,  or  at  all  events,  earnest  and  care- 
fully formed,  ideas  on  subjects  of  economic  or  general  concern  ;  en- 
deavoring at  the  same  time  to  raise  no  false  expectations,  to  outrage 


LETTER     TO      LEIGH      HUNT.  663 

no  individual  opinion,  and  to  keep  out  of  sight  every  thing  that 
would  set  mankind  by  the  ears." 

While  resolutely  holding  to  our  appointed  course,  the  establishment 
of  rival  publications  less  or  more  differing  from  our  own  in  character, 
some  of  them  religious,  or  colorably  so,  was  so  far  from  giving  us  un- 
easiness, that  we  ever  hailed  them  as  coadjutors,  all  laboring  for  the 
public  good  in  their  respective  vocations  ;  for  it  is  only  by  such  varied 
means  that  every  department  of  the  community  can  be  reached.  In 
April,  1834,  Leigh  Hunt  set  on  foot  the  London  Journal,  which  the 
editor,  in  his  address,  spoke  of  as  being  "  similar  in  pomt  of  size  and 
variety  to  Chambers 's  Edinburgh  Journal,  but  with  a  character  a  little 
more  southern  and  literary."  Now  that  Mr.  Hunt  and  my  brother 
have  both  passed  away,  it  is  more  than  ever  pleasing  to  peruse  the 
correspondence  that  took  place  between  them  -en  the  subject  of  this 
new  claimant  for  popular  favor.  My  brother  wrote  as  follows  : 

"EDINBURGH,  April  15,  1834. 

"  DEAR  SIR, — I  take  leave  to  address  you  in  this  familiar  manner 
for  several  reasons.  The  chief  is  your  kind  nature  as  exemplified  in 
your  writings,  which  prove  you  the  friend  of  all  mankind  ;  the  lesser 
are  your  allusions,  on  more  occasions  than  one,  to  writings  of  mine 
when  you  did  not  perhaps  know  the  exact  name  of  the  author.  My 
purpose  is  to  congratulate  you  on  the  first  number  of  your  Journal, 
which  I  have  just  seen,  and  to  express  my  earnest  and  sincere  hope 
that  it  will  repay  your  exertions  and  render  the  latter  part  of  your 
life  more  prosperous  than  you  say  the  earlier  has  been.  You  will 
perhaps  appreciate  my  good  wishes  the  more  that  they  proceed  from 
an  individual  who,  according  to  vulgar  calculations,  might  expect  to 
be  injured  by  your  success.  I  assure  you,  so  far  from  entertaining 
any  grudge  towards  your  work  on  that  score,  I  am  as  open  to  receive 
pleasurable  impressions  from  it  as  I  have  ever  been  from  your  previous 
publications,  or  as  the  least  literary  of  your  readers  can  be,  and  as 
hopeful  that  it  will  succeed  and  prove  a  means  of  comfort  tp  you  as 
the  most  ancient  and  familiar  of  your  friends.  I  know  that  your 
work  can  never  do,  by  a  tenth  part,  so  much  ill  to  my  brother  and 
myself  as  it  may  do  good  to  you;  for  every  book,  however  similar  to 
others,  finds  in  a  great  measure  new  channels  for  itself;  and  still 
more  certain  am  I  that  the  most  jealous  and  unworthy  feelings  we 
could  entertain  would  be  ineffectual  in  protecting  us  from  the  conse- 
quences of  your  supplanting  our  humble  sheets  in  the  public  favor. 
My  brother  and  I  feel  much  pleasure  in  observing  that  a  writer  so 
much  our  senior,  and  so  much  our  superior,  should  have  thought  our 
plan  to  such  an  extent  worthy  of  his  adoption,  and  hope  your  doing 
so  will  only  furnish  additional  proof  of  the  justice  of  our  calculations. 
This  leads  me  to  remark  that,  while  I  acknowledge  the  truth  of  your 
pretensions  to  having  been  the  reviver  of  the  j>eriodical  literature  of 
a  former  age,  and  have  looked  to  your  manner  of  treating  light  sub- 


664  ROBERT     AND     WILLIAM     CHAMBERS. 

jects  as  in  part  the  model  of  our  own,  I  must  take  this  and  every  other 
proper  opportunity  of  asserting  my  elder  brother's  merit  as  the  origin- 
ator of  cheap  respectable  publications  of  the  class  of  which  your 
Journal  is  so  important  an  edition.  In  the  starting  of  Chambers' 's 
Edinburgh  Journal,  in  February,  1832,  he  was  unquestionably  the  first 
to  develop  this  new  power  of  the  printing-press  ;  and  considering  that 
we  had  some  little  character  (at  least  in  Scotland)  to  lose,  and  en- 
countered feelings  in  our  literary  brethren  little  less  apt,  I  may  say, 
to  deter  us  from  our  object  than  the  terrors  which  assailed  Rodolph 
in  the  Witch's.Glen  (a  simile  more  expressive  than  it  is  apt),  I  humbly 
conceive  that  when  the  full  utility  of  my  brother's  invention  shall 
have  been  perceived  by  the  world,  as  I  trust  it  will  in  time,  he  will 
be  fully  fntitled  to  have  his  claims  allowed  without  dispute. 

"That  we  have  regretted  to  find  ourselves  the  objects  of  so  many 
of  the  meaner  order  of  feelings  among  our  brethren,  it  would  be  vain 
to  deny.  I  must  say,  however,  that  we  would  have  been  ill  to  satisfy 
indeed  if  the  admission  of  our  weekly  sheet  into  almost  every  family 
of  the  middle  rank,  and  many  of  the  lower  throughout  the  country, 
had  not  more  than  compensated  us  for  that  affliction.  Our  labors, 
moreover,  are  profitable  beyond  our  hopes,  beyond  our  wants,  besides 
yielding  to  us  a  ceaseless  revenue  of  pleasure  in  the  sense  they  convey 
to  us  of  daily  and  hourly  improving  the  hearts  and  understandings 
of  a  large  portion  of  our  species.  That  you  may  aim  as  heartily  at 
this  result,  and  be  as  successful  in  obtaining  it,  is  the  wish  of,  dear 
sir,  your  sincere  friend  and  servant,  ROBERT  CHAMBERS. 

"To  LEIGH  HUNT,  Esq." 

There  was  a  reply,  lively  and  characteristic,  a  copy  of  which  ap- 
peared in  the  fourth  number  of  the  London  Journal,  being  introduced 
with  some  complimentary  remarks : 

"  4  UPPER  CHEYNE  Row,  CHELSEA, 
April  21,  1834. 

"  Mv  DEAR  SIR, — I  should  have  sooner  acknowledged  the  receipt 
of  your  kind  and  flattering  letter  had  I  not,  in  the  midst  of  a  great 
press  of  business,  been  answering  it  in  another  manner  through  the 
medium  of  the  London  Journal,  in  the  columns  of  which  I  have  taken 
the  liberty  of  putting  it.  I  hope  you  will  excuse  this  freedom,  which 
I  could  not  have  taken  with  you  had  I  respected  you  less ;  and  I 
trust  I  have  anticipated  any  delicacies  you  might  have  had  on  the 
point  by  stating  to  the  reader  that  you  had  given  me  no  intimation 
as  to  whether  I  might  so  use  it  or  not.  But  setting  aside  other  rea- 
sons for  this  step — injurious,  I  trust,  to  neither  of  us — it  appeared  to 
me  too  good  a  thing  for  the  public  to  lose,  as  an  evidence  of  the  new 
and  generous  good-will  springing  up  among  reflecting  people,  and 
specially  fit  to  be  manifested  by  those  who  make  it  their  business  to 
encourage  reflection.  It  would  have  been  like  secreting  a  sunbeam — 


REPLY     OF     LEIGH     HUNT.  665 

a  new  warmth — a  new  smile  for  the  world.  Nor  will  you  think  this 
image  hyperbolical  when  you  consider  the  effect  which  such  evidence 
must  have  upon  the  world,  however  your  modesty  might  incline  you 
to  depreciate  it  personally.  Mankind,  in  ignorance  of  the  sweet  and 
bright  drop  of  benevolence  which  they  all  more  or  less  carry  in  their 
hearts  ready  to  bathe  and  overflow  it  in  good  time,  have  been  too 
much  in  the  habit  of  returning  mistrust  for  mistrust,  and  doubting 
every  one  else  because  each  of  themselves  was  doubted.  Hence  a 
world  of  heart-burnings,  grudgings,  jealousies,  mischiefs,  etc.,  till 
some  even  of  the  kindest  people  were  ashamed  to  seem  kind  or  to 
have  better  opinions  of  things  than  their  neighbors.  Think  what  a 
fine  thing  it  is  to  help  to  break  up  this  general  ice  betwixt  men's 
hearts,  and  you  will  no  longer  have  any  doubt  of  the  propriety  of 
the  step  I  have  taken,  even  supposing  you  to  have  had  any  before,  which 
I  hope  not.  I  forgot  to  say  one  thing  in  my  public  remarks  on  your 
letter,  which  was  to  express  my  hearty  agreement  with  you  as  to  the 
opinion  that  publications  of  this  kind  do  no  injury  to  one  another. 
But  this  was  implied  in  my  address  to  the  public  in  the  first  number, 
and  I  hope  is  self-evident.  Most  unaffectedly  do  I  rejoice  at  hearing 
your  own  words  confirm,  and  in  so  pleasant  and  touching  a  manner, 
the  report  of  the  great  success  of  you  and  your  brother  in  your  specu- 
lation. I  can  not  pretend,  after  all  that  I  have  suffered,  not  to  be 
glad  to  include  a  prospect  of  my  own  success  in  it,  however  it  may 
tall  short  of  its  extent.  Any  kind  of  a  bit  of  nest  of  retreat,  with 
powers  to  send  forth  my  young  comfortably  into  the  world,  and  to 
keep  up  my  note  of  cheerfulness  and  encouragement  to  all  ears  while 
I  have  a  voice  left,  is  all  that  I  desire  for  myself,  or  ever  did.  But 
in  consequence  of  what  I  have  suffered,  and  conscientiously  suffered 
too,  I  claim  a  right  to  be  believed  when  I  say  that  I  could  rejoice 
in  the  success  of  other  well-wishers  to  their  species,  apart  from  my 
own,  and  have  often  done  so ;  and  in  this  spirit,  as  well  as  the  other, 
1  congratulate  you.  That  you  and  your  brother  may  live  long  to  see 
golden  harvests  of  all  sorts  spring  up  from  the  seed  you  have  sown, 
and  to  reap  in  consequence  that  '  revenue  of  pleasure '  you  speak  of, 
as  well  as  the  more  ordinary  one,  is  the  cordial  wish  of,  dear  sir, 
yours  faithfully,  LEIGH  HUNT. 

"To  ROBERT  CHAMBERS,  Esq." 

No  one  could  more  regret  than  we  did  that  Mr.  Hunt's  literary 
venture  was  not  permanently  successful.  At  the  sixty-second  num- 
ber, he  united  with  his  journal  a  periodical  called  the  Printing 
Machine,  at  the  same  time  raising  the  price  from  three  half-pence  to 
twopence,  and  altering  the  day  of  publication.  Changes  of  this 
kind  are  hazardous,  if  not  usually  injurious.  From  whatever  cause, 
the  publication,  as  far  as  can  be  remembered,  did  not  reach  its  hun- 
dredth number,  although,  from  the  quality  of  its  contents,  it  merited 
a  much  longer  existence. 


666  ROBERT    AND     WILLIAM     CHAMBERS. 


RETROSPECT  OF  GENERAL  WORK  DONE. 

Looking  back  to  1833,  memory  brings  up  recollections  of  Robert 
living  in  the  bosom  of  a  young  family,  in  a  home  noted  for  its  ge- 
nial hospitality,  as  well  as  for  certain  evening  parties,  in  which  were 
found  the  most  enjoyable  society  and  music ;  his  wife  seated  at  the 
harp  or  piano-forte,  which  he  accompanied  with  his  flute — the  jold  flute 
which  had  long  ago  sounded  along  the  Eddleston  Water,  and  had 
been  preserved  through  many  vicissitudes;  the  entertainment  being 
sometimes  varied  by  the  tasteful  performances  of  worthy  old  George 
Thomson — Burns's  Thomson — on  the  violin;  my  mother  living  with 
the  junior  members  of  the  family  in  the  composure  and  comfort 
which  she  had  so  meritoriously  earned ;  and  I  settled  in  my  newly- 
married  life.  Such  was  the  position  of  affairs.  All  the  surroundings 
agreeable. 

The  sad  thing  in  these  recollections  is,  that  so  many  who  com- 
posed our  general  society,  and  figured  among  the  notables  of  the 
period,  have  passed  from-  the  stage  of  existence.  A  lady  with  whom 
we  formed  an  intimacy,  and  who  greatly  enjoyed  these  evening  par- 
ties, was  Mrs.  Maclehose,  the  celebrated  "Clarinda"  of  Robert 
Burns.  Now  a  widow  in  the  decline  of  life,  short  in  stature,  and  of 
a  plain  appearance,  with  the  habit  of  taking  snuff,  which  she  had  in- 
herited from  the  fashions  of  the  eighteenth  century,  one  could  hardly 
realize  the  fact  of  her  being  that  charming  Clarinda  who  had  taken 
captive  the  heart  of  "Sylvander,"  and  of  whom  he  frenziedly  wrote, 
on  being  obliged  to  leave  her: 

"  She,  the  fair  sun  of  all  her  sex, 

Has  blest  my  glorious  day; 
And  shall  a  glimmering  planet  fix 

My  worship  to  its  ray  ?" 

Vastly  altered  since  she  was  the  object  of  this  adoration,  Clarinda 
still  possessed  a  singular  sprightliness  in  her  conversation,  and,  what 
interested  us,  she  was  never  tired  speaking  of  Burns,  whose  unhappy 
fate  she  constantly  deplored. 

Another  of  our  acquaintances,  but  seen  only  at  times  when  he  came 
to  town,  was  James  Hogg,  the  Ettrick  Shepherd.  I  saw  him  first  at 
my  brother's  house  in  1831,  and  was  amused  with  his  blunt  simplic- 
ity of  character  and  good  nature.  It  did  not  seem  as  if  he  had  the 
slightest  veneration  for  any  one  more  than  another  whom  he  addressed, 
no  matter  what  was  their  rank  or  position ;  and  I  could  quite  believe 
that  he  sometimes  took  the  liberty,  as  is  alleged  of  him,  of  familiarly 
addressing  Sir  Walter  Scott  as  "  Watty,"  and  Lady  Scott  as  "  Char- 
lotte." The  Shepherd,  however,  was  a  genuinely  good  creature  and 
agreeable  acquaintance.  On  one  occasion,  he  invited  my  brother 
and  myself  to  what  he  called  "a  small  evening  party,"  at  his  inn  in 
the  Candlemaker  Row,  intimating,  in  an  easy  way,  that  we  might 


THE     "NOCTES    AM  B  RO  S  I  AN  JE  ."  667 

bring  any  of  our  friends  with  us.  We  went  accordingly.  Some  time 
afterwards,  when  poor  Hogg  was  no  more,  Robert  gave  an  account, 
not  in  the  least  exaggerated,  of  this  extraordinary  entertainment, 
which  may  here  be  introduced  as  a  specimen  of  the  lighter  class  of 
articles  in  the  early  years  of  the  Journal. 

THE   CANDLEMAKER   ROW   FESTIVAL. 

"  The  late  James  Hogg  was  accustomed,  in  his  later  days,  to  leave 
his  pastoral  solitude  in  Selkirkshire  once  or  twice  every  year,  in  order 
to  pay  a  visit  to  Edinburgh.  He  would  stay  a  week  or  a  fortnight 
in  the  city,  professedly  lodging  at  Watson's  Selkirk  and  Peebles'  Inn 
in  the  Candlemaker  Row,  but  in  reality  spending  almost  the  whole 
of  his  time  in  dining,  supping,  and  breakfasting  with  his  friends ;  for, 
from  his  extreme  good  nature,  and  other  agreeable  qualities  as  a  com- 
panion, not  to  speak  of  his  distinction  as  a  lion,  his  society  was 
much  courted.  The  friends  whom  he  visited  were  of  all  kinds,  from 
men  high  in  standing  at  the  bar  to  poor  poets  and  slender  clerks ; 
and  amongst  all  the  Shepherd  was  the  same  plain,  good-humored, 
unsophisticated  man  as  he  had  been  thirty  years  before,  when  tend- 
ing his  flocks  among  his  native  hills.  In  the  morning,  perhaps,  he 
would  breakfast  with  his  old  friend  Sir  Walter  Scott,  at  his  house  in 
Castle  street,  taking  with  him  some  friend  upon  whom  he  wished  to 
confer  the  advantage  of  an  acquaintance  with  that  great  man.  The 
forenoon  would  be  spent  in  calls,  and  in  lounging  amongst  the  back- 
shops  of  such  booksellers  as  he  knew.  He  would  dine  with  some 
of  the  wits  of  Blackwood's  Magazine,  whom  he  would  keep  in  a  roar 
till  ten  o'clock;  and  then  recollecting  another  engagement,  off  he 
would  set  to  some  fifth  story  in  the  Old  Town,  where  a  young  trades- 
man of  literary  tastes  had  collected  six  or  eight  lads  of  his  own  sort, 
to  enjoy  the  humors  of  the  great  genius  of  the  'Noctes  Ambrosianae.' 
In  companies  of  this  kind  he  was  treated  with  such  homage  and 
kindness,  that  he  usually  got  into  the  highest  spirits,  sang  as  many 
of  his  own  songs  as  his  companions  chose  to  listen  to,  and  told  such 
droll  stories  that  the  poor  fellows  were  like  to  go  mad  with  happi- 
ness. After  acting  as  the  life  and  soul  of  the  fraternity  for  a  few 
hours,  he  would  proceed  to  his  inn,  where  it  was  odds  but  he  would 
be  entangled  in  some  further  orgies  by  a  few  of  the  inmates  of  the 
house. 

"The  only  uneasiness  which  the  poet  felt  in  consequence  of  his 
being  so  much  engaged  in  visiting,  was  that  it  rendered  his  residence 
at  Watson's  little  better  than  a  mere  affair  of  lodging,  so  that,  in  his 
reckoning,  the  charge  for  his  bed  bore  much  the  same  proportion  to 
that  for  every  thing  else  which  the  sack  bore  to  the  bread  in  FalstaflTs 
celebrated  tavern  bill.  To  remedy  this,  in  some  degree,  the  honest 
Shepherd  was  accustomed  to  signalize  the  last  night  of  his  abode  in 
the  inn  by  collecting  a  vast  crowd  of  his  Edinburgh  friends,  of  all 


668  ROBERT    AND     WILLIAM     CHAMBERS. 

ranks  and  ages  and  coats,  to  form  a  supper  party  for  the  benefit  of  the 
house.  In  the  course  of  the  forenoon,  he  would  make  a  round  of 
calls,  and  mention,  in  the  most  incidental  possible  way,  that  two  or 
three  of  his  acquaintances  were  to  meet  that  night  in  the  Candlemaker 
Row  at  nine,  and  that  the  addition  of  this  particular  friend  whom  he 
was  addressing,  together  with  any  of  his  friends  he  chose  to  bring 
along  with  him,  would  by  no  means  be  objected  to.  It  may  readily 
be  imagined  that,  if  he  gave  this  hint  to  some  ten  or  twelve  individ- 
uals, the  total  number  of  his  visitors  would  not  probably  be  few.  In 
reality,  it  used  to  bring  something  like  a  Highland  host  upon  him. 
Each  of  the  men  he  had  spoken  to  came,  like  a  chief,  with  a  long 
train  of  friends,  most  of  them  unknown  to  the  hero  of  the  evening, 
but  all  of  them  eager  to  spend  a  night  with  the  Ettrick  Shepherd. 
He  himself  stood  up  at  the  corner  of  one  of  Watson's  largest  bed- 
rooms to  receive  the  company  as  it  poured  in.  Each  man  as  he 
brought  in  his  train  would  endeavor  to  introduce  each  to  him  separ- 
ately, but  would  be  cut  short  by  the  lion  with  his  bluff,  good-humored 
declaration,  '  Ou  ay,  we'll  be  a"  weel  acquent  by  and  by.' 

"  The  first  two  clans  would  perhaps  find  chairs,  the  next  would  get 
the  bed  to  sit  upon ;  all  after  that  had  to  stand.  This  room,  being 
speedily  filled,  those  who  came  subsequently  would  be  shown  into 
another  bedroom.  When  it  was  filled  too,  another  would  be  thrown 
open,  and  still  the  cry  was,  'They  come!'  At  length,  about  ten 
o'clock,  when  nearly  the  whole  house  seemed  'panged'  with  people, 
as  he  would  have  himself  expressed  it,  supper  would  be  announced. 
Then  such  a  rushing  and  thronging  through  the  passages  upstairs  and 
downstairs,  such  a  tramping,  such  a  crushing,  and  such  a  laughing 
and  roaring  withal — for,  in  the  very  anticipation  of  such  a  supper, 
there  was  more  fun  than  is  experienced  at  twenty  ordinary  assemblages 
of  the  same  kind.  All  the  warning  Mr.  Watson  had  got  from  Mr. 
Hogg  about  this  affair  was  a  hint,  in  passing  out  that  morning,  that 
twae-three  lads  had  been  speaking  of  supping  there  that  night?  Wat- 
son, however,  knew  of  old  what  was  meant  by  twae-three,  and  had 
laid  out  his  largest  room  with  a  double  range  of  tables,  sufficient  to 
accommodate  some  sixty  or  seventy  people.  Certain  preliminaries 
have  in  the  mean  time  been  settled  in  the  principal  bed-room.  Mr. 
Taylor,  commissioner  of  police  for  the  ward  which  contains  the 
Candlemaker  Row,  is  to  take  the  chair — for  a  commissioner  of  police 
in  his  own  ward  is  greater  than  the  most  eminent  literary  or  profes- 
sional person  present  who  has  no  office  connected  with  the  locality. 
Mr.  Thomson,  bailie  of  Easter  Portsburgh,  and  Mr.  Gray,  moderator 
of  the  Society  of  High  Constables,  as  the  next  most  important  local 
officials  present,  are  to  be  croupiers.  Mr.  Hogg  is  to  support  Mr. 
Taylor  on  the  right,  and  a  young  member  of  the  bar  is  to  support 
him  on  the  left. 

"In  then  gushes  the  company,  bearing  the  bard  of  Kilmeny  along 
like  a  leaf  on  the  tide.  The  great  men  of  the  night  take  their  seats 


THE  "ETTRICK  SHEPHERD."  669 

as  arranged,  while  others  seat  themselves  as  they  can.  Ten  minutes 
are  spent  in  pushing  and  pressing,  and  there  is  after  all  a  cluster  of 
Seatless,  who  look  very  stupid  and  nonplused  till  all  is  put  to  rights 
by  the  rigging  out  of  a  table  along  the  side  of  the  room.  At  length 
all  is  arranged ;  and  then,  what  a  strangely  miscellaneous  company 
is  found  to  have  been  gathered  together !  Meal-dealers  are  there 
from  the  Grassmarket,  genteel  and  slender  young  men  from  the 
Parliament  House,  printers  from  the  Cowgate,  and  booksellers  from 
the  New  Town.  Between  a  couple  of  young  advocates  sits  a  decent 
grocer  from  Bristo  street ;  and  amid  a  host  of  shop-lads  from  the 
Luckenbooths  is  perched  a  stiffish  young  probationer,  who  scarcely 
knows  whether  he  should  be  here  or  not,  and  has  much  dread  that 
the  company  will  sit  late.  Jolly,  honest  like  bakers,  in  pepper-and- 
salt  coats,  give  great  uneasiness  to  squads  of  black  coats  in  juxta- 
position with  them ;  and  several  dainty-looking  youths,  in  white  neck- 
cloths and  black  silk  eye-glass  ribbons,  are  evidently  much  discom- 
posed by  a  rough  tyke  of  a  horse-dealer  who  has  got  in  among  them, 
and  keeps  calling  out  all  kinds  of  coarse  jokes  to  a  crony  about 
thirteen  men  off  on  the  same  side  of  the  table.  Many  of  Mr.  Hogg's 
Selkirkshire  store-farming  friends  are  there,  with  their  well-oxygenated 
complexions  and  Dandie-Dinmont-like  bulk  of  figure ;  and  in  addi- 
tion to  all  comers,  Mr.  Watson  himself,  and  nearly  the  whole  of  the 
people  residing  in  his  house  at  the  time.  If  a  representative  assem- 
bly had  been  made  up  from  all  classes  of  the  community,  it  could 
not  have  been  more  miscellaneous  than  this  company,  assembled  by 
a  man  to  whom,  in  the  simplicity  of  his  heart,  all  company  seemed 
alike  acceptable. 

"When  supper  was  finished,  the  chairman  proceeded  to  the  per- 
formance of  his  arduous  duties.  After  the  approved  fashion  in  muni- 
cipal convivialities,  he  gave  the  King,  the  Royal  Family,  the  Duke 
of  York  and  the  Army,  the  Duke  of  Clarence  and  the  Navy,  and  all 
the  other  loyal  and  patriotic  toasts,  before  he  judged  it  fit  to  intro- 
duce the  toast  of  the  evening.  He  then  rose  and  called  for  a  real,  a 
genuine  bumper.  'Gentlemen,'  said  he,  'we  are  assembled  here 
this  evening  in  honor  of  one  who  has  distinguished  himself  in  the 
poetical  line ;  and  it  is  now  my  pleasing  duty  to  propose  his  health. 
Gentlemen,  I  could  have  wished  to  escape  this  duty,  as  I  feel  myself 
altogether  incapable  of  doing  justice  to  it ;  it  is  my  only  support  in 
the  trying  circumstances  in  which  I  have  been  placed,  that  little  can 
be  required  to  recommend  the  toast  to  you.  (Cheers.)  Mr.  Hogg 
is  an  old  acquaintance  of  mine,  and  I  have  read  his  works.  He  has 
had  the  merit  of  raising  himself  from  a  humble  station  to  a  high  place 
among  the  literary  men  of  his  country.  You  have  all  felt  his  powers 
as  a  poet  in  his  "Queen's  Wake."  When  I  look  around  me,  gentle- 
men, at  the  respectable  company  here  assembled — when  I  see  so  many 
met  to  do  honor  to  one  who  was  once  but  a  shepherd  on  a  lonely  hill — 
1  can  not  but  feel,  gentlemen,  that  much  has  been  done  by  Mr. 


670  ROBERT    AND     WILLIAM    CHAMBERS. 

Hogg,  and  that  it  is  something  fine  to  be  a  poet.  (Great  applause.) 
Gentlemen,  the  name  of  Hogg  has  gone  over  the  length  and  breadth 
of  the  land,  and  wherever  it  is  known,  it  is  held  as  one  of  those 
which  do  our  country  honor.  It  is  associated  with  the  names  of 
Burns  and  Scott,  and,  like  theirs,  it  will  never  die.  Proud  I  am  to 
see  such  a  man  among  us,  and  long  may  he  survive  to  reap  his  fame, 
and  to  gratify  the  world  with  new  effusions  of  his  genius !  Gentle- 
men, the  health  of  Mr.  Hogg,  with  all  the  honors.'  The  toast  was 
accordingly  drunk  with  great  enthusiasm,  amid  which  the  Shepherd 
rose  to  make  his  usual  acknowledgment :  '  Gentlemen,  I  was  ever 
proud  to  be  called  a  poet,  but  I  never  was  so  proud  as  I  am  this 
nicht,'  etc. 

"This  part  of  the  business  over,  the  chairman  and  croupiers  began 
to  do  honor  to  civic  matters.  The  chairman  gave  the  Magistrates 
of  Edinburgh,  to  which  Mr.  Thomson,  one  of  the  croupiers,  felt 
himself  bound  to  return  thanks.  Mr.  Thomson  then  gave  the  Com- 
missioners of  Police,  which  brought  the  chairman  upon  his  legs. 
'Messrs.  Croupiers  and  Gentlemen,'  said  he,  'I  rise,  as  an  humble 
member  of  the  body  just  named,  to  thank  you,  in  the  name  of  that 
body,  and  my  own,  for  this  unexpected  honor.  I  believe  I  may  say 
for  this  body,  that  they  do  the  utmost  in  their  power  to  merit  the 
confidence  of  their  constituents,  and  that,  if  they  ever  fail  in  any 
thing  to  give  satisfaction,  it  is  not  for  want  of  a  desire  to  succeed. 
But  let  arithmetic  speak  for  us.  You  all  know  that  the  police  affairs 
of  the  city  were  formerly  administered  at  an  expense  to  you  of  no 
less  than  one-and-sixpence  a  pound  on  the  valued  rental.  And  you 
all  know  what  a  system  it  was,  how  negligent,  inefficient,  and  tyran- 
nical. Now,  gentlemen,  our  popularly  elected  commission  has  been 
seven  years  in  existence,  during  all  which  time  we  have  watched, 
and  lighted,  and  cleaned  you  at  thirteen  pence  half-penny !'  (Great 
and  prolonged  cheering.) 

"There  is  now  for  two  hours  no  more  of  Hogg.  The  commis- 
sioners, bailies,  and  moderators,  have  the  ball  at  their  foot,  and  not 
another  man  can  get  in  a  word.  Every  imaginable  public  body  in 
the  city,  from  the  University  to  the  Potterrow  Friendly  Society,  is 
toasted,  most  of  them  with  the  honors.  Then  they  come  to  individ- 
uals. A  croupier  proposes  the  chairman,  and  the  chairman  proposes 
the  croupiers.  One  of  the  latter  gentlemen  has  a  gentlemen  in  his 
eye,  to  whom  the  public  has  been  much  indebted,  and  whose  pres- 
ence is  always  acceptable,  and  after  a  long  preamble  of  panegyric, 
out  comes  the  name,  the  honored  name  of  Mr.  John  Jaap,  ex-resi- 
dent commissioner  of  police  for  the  next  ward.  It  is  all  in  vain 
for  Mr.  Hogg's  literary  or  professional  friends  to  raise  their  voices 
amidst  such  a  host  of  bourgeoisie.  The  spirit  of  the  Candle- 
maker  Row  and  Bristo  street  rules  the  hour,  and  all  else  must 
give  way,  as  small  minorities  ought  to  do.  Amidst  the  storm  of  civic 
toasts,  a  little  thickish  man,  in  a  faded  velvet  waistcoat  and  strong- 


JAMES    HOGG     AND    HIS     COMICALITIES.  671 

ale  nose,  rises  with  great  solemnity,  and  addressing  the  chair,  begs 
leave  to  remind  the  company  of  a  very  remarkable  omission  which 
has  been  made.  'Gentlemen,1  said  he,  'I  am  sure,  when  I  mention 
my  toast,  you  will  all  feel  how  much  we  have  been  to  blame  in  de- 
laying it  so  long.  It  is  a  toast,  gentlemen,  which  calls  in  a  peculiar 
manner  for  the  sympathies  of  us  all.  It  is  a  toast,  gentlemen,  which 
I  am  sure  needs  no  recommendation  from  me,  but  which  only  requires 
to  be  mentioned  in  order  to  call  up  all  that  feeling  which  such  a  toast 
ever  ought  to  call  up — a  toast,  gentlemen,  a  toast  such  as  seldom  oc- 
curs. Some  perhaps,  are  not  aware  of  an  incident  of  a  very  inter- 
esting nature  which  has  taken  place  in  the  family  of  one  of  our 
worthy  croupiers  this  morning.  It  has  not  yet  been  announced  in 
the  papers,  but  it  probably  will  be  so  to-morrow.  In  the  mean  time 
I  need  only  say  "Mrs.  Gray,  of  a  daughter."  (Cheering  from  all 
parts  of  the  house.)  On  such  an  occasion,  gentlemen,  you  will  not 
think  me  unreasonable  if  I  ask  you  to  get  up,  and  drink,  with  all  the 
honors,  a  bumper  to  Mrs.  Gray  and  her  sweet  and  interesting  charge.' 
(Drunk  with  wild  joy  by  all  present.) 

"About  two  o'clock  in  the  morning,  after  the  second  reckoning 
has  been  called  and  paid  by  general  contribution,  Mr.  Taylor  leaves 
the  chair,  which  is  taken  by  the  young  advocate.  Other  citizenly 
men,  including  the  croupiers,  soon  after  glide  off,  not  liking  to  stay 
out  late  from  their  families.  As  the  company  diminishes  in  number, 
it  increases  in  mirth,  and  at  last  the  extremities  of  the  table  are 
abandoned,  and  the  thinned  host  gathers  in  one  cluster  of  intense 
fun  and  good-fellowism  around  the  chair.  Hogg  now  shines  out  for 
the  first  time  in  all  his  luster,  tells  stories,  sings,  and  makes  all  life 
and  glee.  The  '  Laird  of  Lamington,'  the  '  Women  Folk,'  and 
'  Paddy  O'Rafferty,'  his  three  most  comic  ditties,  are  given  with  a 
force  and  fire  that  carries  all  before  it.  About  this  time,  however, 
the  reporters  withdraw,  so  that  it  is  not  in  our  power  to  state  any 
further  particulars  of  the  Candlemaker  Row  Festival. 

"The  Shepherd  now  reposes  beneath  the  sod  of  his  native  Ettrick, 
all  the  sorrows  and  joys  of  his  checkered  career  hushed  with  his  own 
breath,  and  not  a  stone  to  point  pale  Scotia's  way,  to  pour  her  sor- 
rows o'er  her  poet's  dust.  While  thus  recalling,  for  the  amusement 
of  an  idle  hour,  some  of  the  whimsical  scenes  in  which  we  have  met 
James  Hogg,  let  it  not  be  supposed  that  we  think  of  him  only  with  a 
regard  to  the  homely  manners,  the  social  good-nature,  and  the  un- 
important foibles,  by  which  he  was  characterized.  The  world  amidst 
which  he  moved  was  but  too  apt,  especially  of  late  years,  to  regard 
him  in  these  lights  alone,  forgetting  that  beneath  his  rustic  plaid 
there  beat  one  of  the  kindest  and  most  unperverted  of  hearts,  while 
his  bonnet  covered  the  head  from  which  had  sprung  'Kilmeny'  and 
'Donald  Macdonald.'  Hogg,  as  an  untutored  man,  was  a  prodigy, 
much  more  so  than  Burns,  who  had  had  comparatively  a  good  edu- 


ROBERT    AND     WILLIAM     CHAMBERS. 

cation ;  and  now  that  he  is  dead  and  gone,  we  look  around  in  vain 
for  a  living  hand  capable  of  awakening  the  national  lyre.  The  time 
will  probably  come  when  this  inspired  rustic  will  be  more  justly  ap- 
preciated." 

One  thing  leads  to  another.  The  continued  success  of  the  Journal 
brought  on,  as  if  by  a  natural  sequence,  fresh  enterprises,  to  which, 
with  some  assistance,  we  could  give  proper  attention.  In  1833  we 
projected  and  issued  the  work  styled  "  Chambers's  Information  for 
the  People."  It  consisted  of  a  series  of  sheets,  on  subjects  in  which 
distinct  information  is  of  importance  among  the  people  generally ; 
such  as  the  more  interesting  branches  of  science,  physical,  mathe- 
matical, and  moral ;  natural  history,  political  history,  geography  and 
literature ;  together  with  papers  on  fireside  amusements  and  miscel- 
laneous topics  considered  to  be  of  popular  interest.  As  latterly  im- 
proved, the  work  is  comprehended  in  two  octavo  volumes,  illustrated 
with  wood-engravings.  First  and  last,  its  sale  has  amounted  to  up- 
wards of  a  hundred  and  seventy  thousand  sets,  very  nearly  two  millions 
of  sheets.  How  far  the  diffusion  of  this  enormous  quantity  of  popu- 
larized knowledge  at  a  small  price  may  have  proved  beneficial,  it  is 
not  for  us  to  say.  The  work  was  reprinted  in  the  United  States, 
but  with  what  success  we  never  heard.  With  some  changes  of  sub- 
ject, a  translation  appeared  in  Paris  under  the  title  of  "Instruction 
pour  le  Peuple."  There  was  also  a  translation  of  a  portion  of  the 
work  into  Welsh,  by  Ebenezer  Thomas,  or  Eben  the  Bard,  a  person 
of  no  mean  celebrity  in  Wales. 

Next,  in  1835,  was  announced  and  begun  a  literary  undertaking 
very  much  more  onerous  and  elaborate.  This  was  Chambers's  Edu- 
cational Course,"  consisting  of  a  series  of  treatises  and  school-books, 
constructed  according  to  the  most  advanced  views  of  education,  both 
as  a  science  and  an  art.  In  the  series  of  books  which  followed  was 
comprehended  a  section  on  physical  science,  the  first  time,  as  far  as 
we  were  aware,  of  any  thing  of  the  kind  having  been  attempted  in  a 
form  addressed  to  common  understandings.  Of  the  series  of  books 
my  brother  wrote  several,  including  "  History  of  the  British  Em- 
pire," and  "History  of  the  English  Language  and  Literature,"  this 
being  the  first  time  that  any  thing  of  the  kind  had  been  attempted 
as  a  class-book. 

To  acquire  some  knowledge  of  the  state  of  education,  and  the 
nature  of  the  treatises  employed,  in  the  kingdom  of  the  Netherlands, 
I  made  a  deliberate  journey  through  that  country  in  1838,  visiting  the 
schools  in  the  principal  towns,  every-where  seeing  with  much  pleasure 
the  satisfactory  manner  in  which  the  "religious  difficulty,"  as  it  is 
called,  had  been  overcome.  What  fell  under  notice  was  described 
in  a  "Tour  in  Holland  and  the  Rhine  Countries"  (1839),  and  it 
vindicated  the  plan  which  had  been  adopted  in  constructing  our 
"  Educational  Course  "  free  of  matter  that  could  lead  to  controversy. 
No  more  need  be  said  of  the  "Course"  than  that  it  met  with  a 


ROBERT,      AND     HUGH     MILLER.  673 

friendly  reception  at  home  and  in  the  colonies,  and  that  this  accept- 
ability is  still  increasing. 

Writing  to  his  old  friend  Wilson  at  Poughkeepsie,  in  1835,  my 
brother  says  :  "I  am  continuing  to  pursue  that  course  of  regular 
plodding  industry  which  you  have  witnessed  since  its  commencement. 
Personally,  I  have  now  hardly  any  thing  to  do  with  business,  but  I 
participate  with  my  elder  brother  in  the  great  advantage  of  uniting 
the  duties  of  a  publisher  with  those  of  an  author.  Of  the  Journal, 
about  sixty  thousand  are  now  sold  ;  and  in  England  the  circulation 
is  steadily  rising.  That  work  seems  now  indeed  received  and  sanc- 
tioned as  a  powerful  moral  engine  for  the  regeneration  of  the  middle 
and  lower  orders  of  society.  We  have  just  commenced  the  publica- 
tion of  a  series  of  educational  works,  designed  to  embrace  education — 
physical,  moral,  and  intellectual — according  to  the  most  advanced 
views.  To  all  appearance,  this  will  also  be  a  successful  undertaking. 
While  my  brother  has  been  married  two  years  without  any  surviving 
children,  I  have  now  no  fewer  than  four.  .  .  .  We  all  enjoy 
good  health ;  and  I  often  think  I  realize  in  my  domestic  circle  that 
happiness  which  authors  have  endeavored  to  represent  as  visionary. 
Men,  it  is  allowed,  are  apt  to  speak  of  things  as  they  find  them  ; 
and,  for  my  part,  I  would  say  that  it  is  possible  to  lead  the  life  of  a 
literary  man  without  any  of  those  grievances  and  evil  passions  which 
others  picture  as  inseparable  from  the  profession.  I  envy  none,  de- 
spise none,  but,  on  the  contrary,  yield  due  respect  to  all,  whether 
above  or  beneath  me.  I  am  but  little  disposed  to  pine  for  higher 
honors  than  I  possess ;  they  come  steadily,  and  1  am  content  to  wait 
till  they  come.  The  result  is,  that  hardly  such  a  thing  as  an  annoy- 
ance ever  breaks  the  calm  tenor  of  my  life,  and  that"  there  is  not  one 
person  with  whom  I  was  ever  acquainted  whom  I  can  not  meet  as  a 
friend." 

From  1835  to  1837,  as  is  seen  by  my  brother's  papers,  he  was  in 
pretty  frequent  communication  with  Hugh  Miller  on  literary  subjects. 
Settled  at  Cromarty  as  an  assistant  in  a  bank,  Miller  had  some  spare 
time  on  his  hands,  which  he  wished  to  devote  to  writing  stories  and  other 
articles  for  Chambers*  s  Journal,  the  reading  of  that  periodical  having 
apparently  been  to  him  a  means  of  mental  stimulus.  Limits,  unfor- 
tunately, do  not  admit  of  the  insertion  of  Miller's  letters  in  full.  In 
one,  dated  igth  of  March  1835,  he  refers  to  the  difficulties  he  had 
encountered  in  acquiring  a  facility  in  writing  for  the  press: 

"Oblige  me  by  accepting  the  accompanying  volume.  It  contains, 
as  you  will  find,  a  good  many  heavy  pieces,  and  abounds  in  all  the 
faults  incident  to  juvenile  productions,  and  to  those  of  the  imper- 
fectly taught;  but  you  may  here  and  there  meet  with  something  to 
amuse  you.  I  have  heard  of  an  immensely  rich  trader  who  used  to 
say  he  had  more  trouble  in  making  his  first  thousand  pounds  than  in 
making  all  the  rest.  I  have  experienced  something  similar  to  this 

43 


674  ROBERT     AND     WILLIAM    CHAMBERS. 

in  my  attempts  to  acquire  the  art  of  the  writer;  but  I  have  not  yet 
succeeded  in  making  my  first  thousand.  My  forthcoming  volume, 
which  I  trust  I  shall  be  able  to  send  you  in  a  few  weeks,  will,  I  hope, 
better  deserve  your  perusal.  And  yet  I  am  aware  it  has  its  heavy 
pieces  too — dangerous  looking  sloughs  of  dissertation  in  which  I 
well-nigh  lost  myself,  and  in  which  I  had  no  small  risk  of  losing  my 
readers.  One  who  sits  down  to  write  for  the  public  at  a  distance  of 
two  hundred  miles  from  the  capital  has  to  labor  under  sad  disadvan- 
tages in  his  attempts  to  catch  the  tone  which  chances  to  be  popular  at 
the  time;  more  especially  if,  instead  of  having  formed  his  literary 
tastes  in  that  tract  of  study  which  all  the  educated  classes  have  to  pass 
through,  he  has  had  to  pick  them  up  by  himself  in  nooks  and  by- 
corners  where  scarcely  any  one  ever  picked  them  up  before.  Among 
educated  men  the  starting-note,  if  I  may  so  express  myself,  is  nearly 
the  same  all  the  world  over,  and  what  wonder  if  the  after-tones 
should  harmonize ;  but,  alas  !  for  his  share  of  the  concert  who  has  to 
strike  up  on  a  key  of  his  own.  .  .  .  All  my  young  friends  here, 
and  I  have  a  great  many,  are  highly  delighted  with  your  volume  of 
Ballads." 

Some  years  later,  Mr.  Miller  made  distinct  overtures  to  be  a  con- 
tributor. Under  date  i4th  of  September,  1837,  he  writes: 

"  I  have  been  a  reader  of  your  Journal  for  the  last  five  years,  a 
pleased  and  interested  reader;  and  a  few  days  ago  the  thought  struck 
me  that,  so  far  at  least  as  one  contributor  goes,  I  might  also  be  a 
writer  for  it.  ...  I  have  been  writing  a  good  deal  of  late — 
mostly  stories ;  but  the  vehicle  in  which  I  have  given  them  to  the 
public  [a  collection  of  tales]  does  not  quite  satisfy  me.  Some  of 
my  brother-contributors  are  rather  more  stupid  than  is  agreeable  in 
one's  associates ;  and  besides  there  is  less  pleasure  in  writing  sense 
in  the  name  of  another  than  in  one's  own.  Every  herring  should 
hang  by  its  own  head.  May  I  ask  you,  without  presuming  too  far 
on  your  good  nature  and  the  kindness  you  have  already  shown  me, 
to  read  one  or  two  of  my  stories,  and  say  at  your  convenience 
whether  1  might  not  find  some  way  of  disposing  of  such  to  better 
advantage.  ...  I  send  you  also  a  copy  of  verses  which  I 
addressed  about  two  years  ago  to  a  lady,  who  has  since  become  my 
wife.  I  do  not  know  that  they  have  much  else  besides  their  sincerity 
to  recommend  them,  but  sincerity  they  have.  It  is,  I  believe,  Cow- 
per  who  tells  us  that  '  the  poet's  lyre  should  be  the  poet's  heart.'  ' 

The  articles  sent  were  duly  acknowledged  and  inserted.  Others 
followed  in  1838,  chiefly  of  familiar  papers  on  geology.  It  is  one  of 
the  things  to  look  back  upon  with  gratification,  that  Hugh  Miller 
had  been,  not  only  an  early  reader  of,  but  a  contributor  of  interest- 
ing papers  to,  Chambers' 's  Journal. 


"CHAMBERS'S     ENCYCLOPEDIA."  675 

Shortly  after  this  period,  considerable  additions  were  made  to  our 
establishment,  to  meet  the  requirements  of  an  ever-growing  business. 
It  is  not  the  purpose,  however,  of  the  present  Memoir  to  diverge 
into  any  account  of  the  various  enterprises  in  which  we  happened  to 
engage.  Only  two  may  be  mentioned  as  peculiarly  furthering  the 
distribution  of  a  cheap,  and,  as  it  was  hoped,  useful  species  of  pub- 
lications among  the  less  affluent  classes  in  the  community.  One  of 
these  undertakings  was  "  Chambers's  Miscellany  of  Useful  and  Enter- 
taining Tracts,"  a  work  completed  in  twenty  volumes,  adapted  for 
parish,  school,  regimental,  prison  and  similar  libraries.  The  circu- 
lation was  immense ;  and  to  keep  the  work  abreast  of  the  age,  it  has 
recently  undergone  considerable  revision. 

The  other  of  these  enterprises  was  one  which  exceeded  all  former 
efforts.  This  was  "  Chambers's  Encyclopaedia,  a  Dictionary  of 
Universal  Knowledge  for  the  People,"  a  work  begun  in  1859,  and  which 
continued  to  be  issued  till  its  completion,  in  ten  volumes,  in  1868. 
Unless  with  the  assistance  of  a  large  and  varied  body  of  contributors, 
a  book  of  this  comprehensive  nature  could  not  have  been  attempted. 
This  assistance  was  procured,  and  what  was  of  greater  importance, 
Dr.  Andrew  Findlater  entered  with  much  spirit  into  our  views,  and 
brought  his  erudition  and  habits  of  assiduous  literary  labor  into  exer- 
cise as  acting  editor.  For  all  parties,  however,  the  task  was  herculean. 
In  commencing  the  work,  my  brother  and  I  felt  excusable  in  describ- 
ing it  as  our  "crowning  effort  in  cheap  and  instructive  literature." 

When  we  entered  on  the  undertaking,  it  was  considerably  more 
than  a  hundred  years  since  Ephraim  Chambers  gave  to  the  world  his 
"  Cyclopaedia,  or  Universal  Dictionary  of  Knowledge,"  the  prototype, 
as  it  proved  to  be,  of  a  number  of  similar  works  in  Britain  as  well  as 
in  other  countries,  which  must  have  contributed  in  no  small  measure 
to  increase  the  sum  of  general  intelligence.  In  nearly  all  these  works 
there  was  a  tendency  to  depart  from  the  plan  of  their  celebrated  origi- 
nal, as  concerns  some  of  the  great  departments  of  science,  literature, 
and  history;  these  being  usually  presented,  not  under  a  variety  of 
specific  heads,  as  they  commonly  occur  to  our  minds  when  informa- 
tion is  required,  but  aggregated  in  large  and  formal  treatises,  such  as 
in  themselves  form  books  of  considerable  bulk.  By  such  a  course,  it 
is  manifest  that  the  serviceableness  of  an  encyclopaedia  as  a  dictionary 
of  reference  is  greatly  impaired,  whatever  be  the  advantages  which 
on  other  points  are  gained.  The  Germans,  in  their  "  Conversations 
Lexicon,"  were  the  first  to  bring  back  the  encyclopaedia  to  its  origi- 
nal purpose  of  a  dictionary.  The  Penny  Cyclopadia  was  another 
effort  in  the  same  direction,  but  it  was  extended  to  such  dimensions 
as  to  put  it  out  of  the  reach  of  the  very  classes  for  whom  it  was  de- 
signed. Our  object  was  to  give  a  comprehensive  yet  handy  and  cheap 
Dictionary  of  Universal  Knowledge,  no  subject  being  treated  at  greater 
leitgth  than  was  absolutely  necessary.  As  now  completed,  it  will  be 
for  the  world  to  judge  whether  the  work  realizes  the  object  aimed  at. 


676  ROBERT     AND     WILLIAM     CHAMBERS. 

It  would  have  been  impossible  to  give  concentrated  attention  to 
the  various  works  mentioned,  as  well  as  to  those  of  which  Robert 
was  exclusively  the  author  or  editor,  without  a  proper  organization 
in  one  large  establishment.  As  regards  Chambers' s  Journal,  we  were 
fortunate  in  having  a  succession  of  able  and  zealous  literary  assistants; 
among  others,  Mr.  T.  Smibert  (deceased),  Mr.  W.  H.  Wills,  Mr. 
Leitch  Ritchie  (deceased),  and  Mr.  James  Payn — to  whom  be  every 
acknowledgment. 

So  aided,  and  with  twelve  printing  machines  set  to  work,  there 
was  at  length  a  fair  average  produce  of  fifty  thousand  sheets  of  one 
kind  or  other  daily.  Under  one  roof  were  combined  the  operations 
of  editors,  compositors,  stereotypers,  wood-engravers,  printers,  book- 
binders, and  other  laborers,  all  engaged  in  the  preparation  and  dis- 
persal of  books  and  periodicals.  The  assemblage  of  so  many  indivi- 
duals in  various  departments,  actuated  by  a  common  purpose,  sug- 
gested the  idea  of  annual  entertainments  to  all  in  our  employment. 
The  first  of  these  entertainments,  which  had  for  its  express  object  the 
promotion  of  a  good  feeling  between  employers  and  employed,  took 
place  in  the  summer  of  1838.  The  meeting  was  in  the  form  of  a 
temperance  soiree,  with  some  slight  refreshments  and  music.  It  was 
held  in  one  of  the  large  apartments  of  our  printing-office;  and  to 
grace  the  assemblage,  some  persons  of  local  distinction  were  invited. 
Among  the  notabilities  who  attended  on  the  occasion  were  Lords 
Murray  and  Cunningham ;  also  Mr.  James  Simpson,  a  keen  educa- 
tionist, but  best  remembered  for  his  amusing  account  of  a  visit  to 
the  field  of  Waterloo,  shortly  after  the  battle.  Usually  at  these  soirees 
there  were  about  two  hundred  of  all  classes,  and  of  both  sexes,  pres- 
ent, all  in  evening  dress,  and  joyous  for  the  occasion.  In  the  in- 
tervals of  the  instrumental  music,  addresses  were  delivered,  and  songs 
were  sung ;  on  one  occasion,  as  I  have  pleasure  in  remembering, 
George  Thomson  delighted  the  company  with  the  song  of  the 
"  Posie,"  the  warbling  of  which  sent  the  mind  back  to  1792,  when 
our  national  bard  was  pouring  forth  his  matchless  lyrics.  The  ad- 
dresses on  both  sides  were  of  that  friendly  nature  which  was  calculated 
to  promote  a  spirit  of  mutual  amity  not  to  be  forgotten. 

The  presence  of  my  mother  was  a  pleasing  feature  at  the  earlier  of 
these  annual  soirees.  Now  at  an  advanced  age,  but  retaining  her 
buoyancy  of  feelings,  she  entered  sympathizingly  into  the  spirit  of 
the  occasion.  Grateful  for  many  unexpected  blessings,  her  existence 
drew  placidly  to  a  close.  She  died  in  1843,  having  exemplified  in 
her  life  the  brightest  virtues  that  can  adorn  the  matronly  character. 

ROBERT'S  LATER  WORKS — 1842  TO  1865. 

There  is  no  pleasing  every  body.  My  brother's  connection  with 
Chambers' s  Journal  gave  no  small  dissatisfaction  to  a  writer  who 
affected  to  mourn  over  his  desertion  of  what  at  one  time  promised  to 


THE    "LAND    OF    BURNS,"    ETC.  677 

confer  "  distinction  in  the  historical  and  antiquarian  departments  of 
literature."  So  much  (and  a  good  deal  more) was  querulously  said 
of  him  in  a  leading  critical  organ  in  1842.  The  accomplished  re- 
viewer who,  in  a  spirit  of  patronizing  sorrow,  fell  into  this  disconso- 
late frame  of  mind,  had  wholly  failed  to  remember  that  the  most 
precious  writings  of  Steele  and  Addison  made  their  appearance  in 
penny  papers  ;  that  the  classic  essays  of  Johnson  were  issued  origi- 
nally in  the  same  form ;  and  that  the  immortal  fiction  of  Defoe  first 
appeared  chapter  by  chapter  in  the  columns  of  a  London  newspaper. 
Forgetting  all  that,  and  possessing  no  sympathy  with  the  cause  of 
popular  enlightenment,  the  lofty-minded  reviewer  perceived  only  a 
lamentable  loss  of  caste  for  all  who  attempted  to  give  their  ideas  to 
the  world  at  any  thing  under  the  quality  of  a  handsome  twelve-shil- 
ling octavo,  fit  for  the  "  English  library." 

The  critic  was  a  little  rash  in  his  speculations.  So  far  from 
devoting  himself  exclusively  to  the  cheap  periodical  which  roused  so 
much  temper,  Robert  continued  to  employ  a  large  portion  of  his  time 
on  separate  works,  which  raised  him  considerably  in  the  estima- 
tion of  the  literary  world.  Abstaining  from  interference  in  public 
affairs,  for  which  he  never  had  any  aptitude,  his  life  was  now,  as  it 
had  been  for  many  years,  that  of  a  literary  recluse,  who  indulges  in 
but  a  limited  amount  of  recreation.  His  papers  for  Chambers 's  Jour- 
nal occupied  him  for  only  one  or  two  days  a  week.  At  the  very  time  he 
was  so  unceremoniously  called  in  question,  he  had  completed,  in  con- 
junction with  Professor  Wilson,  a  most  elaborate  work  on  the  "  Land 
of  Burns,"  which,  extending  to  two  highly  embellished  quarto 
volumes,  is  understood  to  have  rewarded  -the  enterprise  of  the  pub- 
lishers by  whom  it  had  been  undertaken. 

The  success  of  this  small  educational  book  on  English  literature 
led  to  the  conception  of  a  work  vastly  more  comprehensive.  He 
projected  a  "  Cyclopaedia  of  English  Literature  "  that  should  form  a 
history,  critical  and  biographical,  of  British  authors,  from  the  earliest 
to  the  present  times,  accompanied  with  a  systematized  series  of  ex- 
tracts— a  concentration  of  the  best  productions  of  English  intellect, 
headed  by  Chaucer,  Shakespeare,  Milton  ;  by  Moore,  Bacon,  Locke; 
by  Hooker,  Taylor,  Barrow;  by  Addison,  Johnson,  Goldsmith;  by 
Hume,  Robertson,  Gibbon ;  and  more  lately  by  Byron  and  Scott — 
set  in  a  biographical  and  critical  history  of  the  literature  itself.  This 
was  certainly  no  mean  enterprise.  The  end  which,  if  possible,  was  to 
be  attained,  was  the  training  of  an  entire  people  to  venerate  the 
thoughtful  and  eloquent  of  the  past  and  present  times.  "These 
gifted  beings,"  it  was  justly  observed,  "may  be  said  to  have  en- 
deared our  language  and  institutions — our  national  character,  and  the 
very  scenery  and  artificial  objects  which  mark  our  soil — to  all  who 
are  acquainted  with,  and  can  appreciate  their  writings." 

It  being  impossible,  with  all  his  self-sacrificing  diligence,  to  exe- 
cute so  onerous  a  task  single-handed,  my  brother  besought  and  re- 


678  ROBERT     AND    WILLIAM     CHAMBERS. 

ceived  the  aid  of  his  friend  Dr.  Robert  Carruthers  of  Inverness,  who, 
both  by  his  literary  tastes  and  professional  pursuits,  was  eminently 
qualified  to  co-operate  in  the  undertaking.  Completed  in  two  vol- 
umes octavo,  and  issued  in  1844,  the  "  Cyclopaedia  of  English  Lit- 
erature "  had  a  most  successful  career,  and  continues  to  be  popular, 
not  only  for  private  reading,  but  as  a  book  for  the  higher  class  of 
students. 

In  1847  were  issued  his  "Select  Writings,"  in  seven  volumes,  for 
which  several  characteristic  illustrations  were  furnished  by  David 
Roberts,  R.  A.  A  copy  having  been  presented  by  the  author  to  his 
friend,  D.  M.  Moir — the  "Delta"  of  Blackwood — it  was  acknowl- 
edged as  follows : 

"Allow  me  to  congratulate  you  on  the  publication  of  your  'Se- 
lect Writings,' — a  thing  which  you  owe  to  yourself  and  your  family, 
and  of  which  both  will  have  reason  to  be  proud.  ...  In  these 
days  of  flash  and  fury,  when  a  certain  class  of  writers  seem  to  think 
that  a  work  is  valuable  only  as  far  as  it  departs  from  the  regions  of 
good  taste  and  common  sense,  the  essays  will  stand  forth  as  a  beacon 
to  the  unwary,  and  as  a  token  that  some  minds  have  escaped  the  in- 
fection. Nor  can  I  doubt  that  they  will  attain  a  large  degree  of 
popularity,  which  they  deserve.  In  last  night  glancing  through  the 
volumes  I  have  made  myself  more  intimate  with  many  old  acquaint- 
ances, highly  characteristic  of  Scotland  and  the  author,  and  equally 
creditable  to  our  '  auld  respectit  mother,'  and  to  her  son." 

It  will  probably  be  allowed  that  the  essays  comprehended  in  three 
volumes  of  these  "Select  Writings,"  were  the  greatest  of  my  broth- 
er's productions.  In  them  were  seen  his  depth  of  thought  on  moral 
and  economic  subjects,  also  his  sense  of  humor,  with  power  of  dis- 
criminating character.  Old  readers  of  Chambers' s  Journal  will  re- 
member the  recurring  weekly  pleasure  of  reading  these  essays:  "Gen- 
eral Invitations,"  "The  Pleasures  of  Unhappiness,"  "The  House 
of  Numbers,"  "The  Unconfined,"  "  Danger  of  Appearing  Ill-used," 
"The  Downdraught,"  etc.  In  a  preceding  chapter,  a  specimen  of 
the  more  humorous  class  of  papers  is  given  in  "  Candlemaker  Row 
Festival."  Perhaps  in  the  whole  round  of  his  four  to  five  hundred 
leading  articles,  none  was  more  appreciated  for  the  delicacy  of  its 
conceptions  than  one  which  is  now  brought  back  to  light. 

IDEA   OF  AN    ENGLISH   GIRL. 

"  '  Girl '  is  a  word  of  delightful  sense.  It  suggests  ideas  of  light- 
ness, elegance,  and  grace,  joined  to  simplicity,  innocence,  and  truth, 
all  embodied  in  that  class  of  human  beings  which  make  the  nearest 
approach  to  the  angelic.  The  very  sound  of  the  word  is  appropriate ; 
it  comes  upon  the  ear  and  the  heart  like  a  flourish  of  fairy  trumpets. 
The  letters  which  compose  it  seem  to  be  all  dancing  as  they  trip 
along.  There  is  no  slur  or  drag  in  this  exquisite  syllable ;  it  is  a  kind 


"IDEA   OF   AN    ENGLISH   GIRL."  679 

of  perpetual  motion.  How  far  the  same  ideas  may  be  suggested  by 
the  corresponding  words  in  other  languages  I  will  not  stop  to  in- 
quire ;  it  is  enough  for  me  that  our  word  is  suitable  to  the  character 
of  our  girls — English  girls,  I  mean — for  the  word  has  nothing  to  do 
with  Scotland,  where  '  lassie '  has  its  own  delicious  sense  and  admir- 
able appropriateness.  The  English  '  girl '  is  the  being  whom  the 
word  was  meant  to  describe,  and  no  being  or  thing  could  have  a 
designation  more  descriptive. 

"  Neck  of  lily,  cheeks  of  rose,  and  eyes  of  heaven.  Hair  of  sunny 
auburn,  whose  tiny  tendrils  dance  with  the  slightest  motion.  A  face 
nearer  round  than  oval,  but  irradiated  by  the  unsetting  sun  of  a  kind 
nature.  A  figure  meek  and  graceful,  wreathed  in  innocent  muslin, 
and  perpetually  undulating  and  bending  into  lines  of  beauty.  Such 
is  the  fair  Saxon  girl  of  Old  England,  as  she  grows  in  some  sheltered 
nook  of  the  merry  land,  unsmirched  by  the  smoke  and  sophistica- 
tions of  cities,  and  little  knowing  of  any  other  world  than  the  little 
one  which  forms  her  home.  It  is  the  fortune  of  few  eyes  to  behold 
this  fair  girl,  for  her  parents  prefer  a  life  of  retirement ;  but  to  the 
few  who  have  once  seen  her,  she  is  as  the  recollection  of  the  Caaba 
is  to  the  Mohammedan  pilgrim,  an  idea  to  be  cherished  forever.  She 
chiefly  holds  intercourse  with  nature ;  with  the  more  beautiful  parts 
of  it ;  for  there  is  a  sympathy  in  lovely  things  that  makes  them  love 
one  another.  She  dotes  upon  flowers  —  fair  roses,  sisters  to  herself 
and  rhododendrons  that  strive  to  match  her  in  stature ;  nor  is  there 
even  a  little  violet  in  the  garden  but  every  day  exchanges  with  her  kind 
looks,  as  if  the  dewdrop  lurking  in  it  were  a  mirror  to  her  own  smil- 
ing loveliness,  diminishing  the  object,  but  not  leaving  a  lineament 
unexpressed.  Out  of  these  troops  of  floral  friends  she  is  ever  and 
anon  choosing  some  one  more  endeared  than  the  rest,  to  wear  for 
awhile  in  her  bosom  ;  a  preference  which  might  make  those  which  re- 
mained die  sooner  than  that  which  was  cropped.  Her  favorite  seat 
is  under  a  laburnum,  which  seems  to  be  showering  a  new  birth  of 
beauty  upon  her  head.  There  she  sits  in  the  quiet  of  nature,  think- 
ing thoughts  as  beautiful  as  flowers,  with  feelings  as  gentle  as  the 
gales  which  fan  them.  She  knows  no  evil,  and  therefore  she  does 
none.  Untouched  by  earthly  experiences,  she  is  perfectly  happy; 
and  the  happy  are  good. 

"  Affection  remains  in  her  as  a  treasure,  hereafter  to  be  brought 
into  full  use.  As  yet  she  only  spends  a  small  share  of  the  interest 
of  her  heart's  wealth  upon  the  objects  around  her  ;  the  principal  will 
on  some  future  and  timely  day  be  given  to  one  worthy,  I  hope,  'to 
possess  a  thing  so  valuable.  Meanwhile,  she  loves  as  a  daughter  and 
a  sister  may  do.  Every  morning  and  evening  she  comes  to  her  par- 
ents with  her  pure  and  unharming  kiss;  nor,  when  some  cheerful 
brother  returns  from  college  or  from  counting-house  to  enliven  home 
for  a  brief  space,  is  the  same  salutation  wanting  to  assure  him  of  the 
continuance  of  her  most  sweet  regards.  Often,  too,  she  is  found  in- 


680  ROBERT    AND     WILLIAM     CHAMBERS. 

tertwining  her  loveliness  with  that  of  her  sisters — arm  clasping  waist, 
and  neck  crossing  neck,  and  bosom  pressed  to  bosom,  till  all  seems 
one  inextricable  knot  of  beauty.  No  jealousy,  no  guile,  no  envy,  no 
more  than  what  possesses  a  bunch  of  lilies  growing  from  the  same 
stem.  She  has  some  spare  fondness,  moreover,  for  a  variety  of  pets 
in  the  lower  orders  of  creation.  There  are  chickens  which  will  leave 
the  richest  morsels  at  the  sound  of  her  voice,  and  little  dogs  which 
will  give  up  yelping,  even  at  the  most  provoking  antagonists,  if  she 
only  desires  them.  Her  chief  favorite,  however,  is  a  lamb,  which 
follows  her  wherever  she  goes,  a  heaven-sent  emblem  of  herself.  To  see 
her  fondling  this  spotless  creature  on  the  green,  innocence  reposing 
upon  innocence,  you  might  suppose  the  golden  age  had  returned,  and 
that  there  was  to  be  no  more  wickedness  seen  on  earth. 

"  Our  '  English  girl '  may  be  seen  in  various  places.  You  meet  her 
on  a  walk,  and  are  charmed  with  her  fresh  complexion  and  blue 
modest  eyes,  as  half  seen  under  the  averted  bonnet.  Then  there  are 
neat  shoes  and  white  stockings,  so  pretty  as  compared  with  the  hard 
outline  of  the  booted  foot,  in  which  the  ladies  of  other  countries  de- 
light. There  are  also  her  gauzy  frock,  and  its  streaming  sashes  and 
ribbons,  and  her  hair  depending  in  massy  ringlets  adown  her  lovely 
neck.  The  whole  figure  breathes  of  the  free  and  pure  mind  which 
animates  it.  At  another  time  she  is  found  in  some  pretty  withdraw- 
ing room,  whose  casements  open  upon  flowery  walks  or  green  veran- 
das. Her  head  is  now  invested  only  with  the  grace  of  nature — her 
flowing  hair.  Her  countenance,  instead  of  being  flushed,  as  in  the 
other  case,  by  the  open  air,  beams  from  the  gentle  toil  of  some  do- 
mestic duty  in  which  she  has  been  assisting  her  mother. 

"  Appropriate  to  her  late  task,  she  still  wears  her  neat  apron, 
edged  with  blue  trimming,  and  from  the  front  of  which  perk  out  two 
smart,  provoking-looking  pockets,  which  gush  over  with  all  kinds  of 
female  paraphernalia,  such  as  scissors,  cotton-balls,  and  knitting- 
wires.  You  enter,  and,  being  a  friend  of  the  family,  she  is  so  glad 
to  see  you.  In  five  minutes  you  know  all  about  the  accomplishments 
of  her  canaries,  the  late  behavior  of  Bob,  the  spaniel,  an  accident 
which  happened  that  morning  to  her  best  frock,  and  the  annual 
which  she  has  received  as  a  present — '  from  a  friend,'  as  the  inscrip- 
tion has  it — and  here  she  evidently  wishes  you  rather  to  look  into 
the  inside  of  the  book  than  dwell  on  the  initial  pages.  She  has  also 
a  few  of  the  nothings  called  'ladies  work,'  light,  visionary  fabrics  of 
card  and  wafers,  which  she  has  been  executing  for  a  charity  sale  that 
is  soon  to  take  place ;  these  are  all  brought  out  and  displayed  before 
you.  Then  there  is  her  album,  with  holograph  poems,  by  three  au- 
thors of  reputation,  and  a  thousand  contributions,  both  original  and 
selected,  from  less  distinguished  persons,  the  whole  being  garnished 
by  her  own  drawings.  All  these  things  you  must  inspect,  for  she 
only  shows  them  in  the  hope  of  entertaining  you;  and  then  she  turns 
to  music. 


ROBERT'S   FAMILY   AT   ABBEY   PARK.  681 

"She  has  had  selections  from  the  last  opera  sent  to  her,  and  these 
she  runs  over,  for  your  amusement,  on  the  piano-forte ;  carefully  tak- 
ing you  bound,  however,  to  observe  that  she  has  not  yet  sufficiently 
practiced  them  to  be  quite  perfect  in  their  execution.  In  truth  you 
little  need  such  apologies  for  her  deficiencies.  It  is  not  for  her  ex- 
ternal accomplishments  —  though  these  are  considerable — that  you 
value  this  fair  specimen  of  humanity.  You  appreciate  her  for  her 
beauty — which  nature  could  never  have  conferred  if  it  had  not  been 
intended  as  a  reverence-compelling  merit  for  her  gentle  and  artless 
nature,  so  well  enshrined  in  that  form  of  native  and  indefeasible 
grace  —  and  because,  by  dwelling  on  the  contemplation  of  such  a 
being,  your  estimation  of  your  kind  is  elevated ;  a  gratification  in  it- 
self, and  one  of  the  highest  order. 

"  Such  is  the  '  English  girl,'  as  she  still  exists  in  many  of  the  happy 
homes  throughout  this  pleasant  land.  She  is  one  of  the  creations  of 
nature,  which,  though  decaying  in  generations,  live  nevertheless  for- 
ever as  a  race.  It  would  be  as  absurd  to  expect  that  the  next  spring 
should  fail  to  prank  the  sod  of  England  with  primroses,  as  to  sup- 
pose that  there  will  ever  be  a  time  with  us  when  the  cheeks  of  girls 
shall  not  bloom,  and  their  hearts  cease  to  be  stored  with  those  blessed 
influences  which  tend  so  much  to  cheer  the  rest  of  their  kind.  We 
may  be  ruined  twice  over — in  the  newspapers — but  there  will  never 
be  a  time  when  the  lover  of  nature  shall  want  objects  to  solace  him- 
self withal.  For  him  shall  the  ground,  year  after  year,  be  covered 
with  a  new  robe  of  green,  the  trees  redress  their  disheveled  locks, 
the  flowers  once  more  put  on  their  bloom  ;  and  for  him  there  shall 
never  be  wanting  sweet  faces  decked  with  maiden  smiles,  and  painted 
with  perennial  roses,  to  assure  him  that  England  is  still  right  at  the 
heart.'  " 

It  might  also  be  conjectured  that  my  brother's  "  Idea  of  an  Eng- 
lish girl  "  had  been  partly  suggested  by  the  unaffected  manners  and 
happy  looks  of  one  or  other  of  his  own  daughters.  Essentially  what 
is  called  a  "family  man,"  he  experienced  immense  delight  in  the 
society  of  his  children,  who  were  treated  with  the  utmost  tenderness 
and  consideration.  Ultimately,  he  had  eight  daughters  and  three 
sons;  the  daughters  charming  girls,  most  of  them  with  flaxen  ring- 
lets, all  with  pet  names,  and  so  merry  and  entertaining,  that  there 
presence  shed  a  continual  sunshine  through  the  dwelling.  Two  of 
the  girls,  Janet  and  Eliza,  were  twins,  and  so  closely  resembled  each 
other,  that  you  could  scarcely  have  told  one  from  the  other — a  cir- 
cumstance which  was  often  diverting  in  its  consequences.  Clustered 
round  their  mother,  Mrs.  R.  Chambers,  a  woman  of  brilliant  musical 
powers,  much  vivacity,  and  of  literary  tastes — the  "  Mrs.  Balderston" 
of  a  number  of  amusing  essays — the  evening  musical  parties  were  now 
more  enjoyable  than  ever ;  for  by  way  of  variety  the  girls,  in  their 


682  ROBERT    AND    WILLIAM    CHAMBERS. 

childish  glee,  would  sing  together  some  droll  and  lively  ditty,  to  the 
delight  of  the  company. 

For  some  purpose  connected  with  his  young  family,  my  brother 
removed  to  St.  Andrews;  his  residence  being  a  villa  called  Abbey 
Park,  prettily  situated  outside  the  town.  While  here  in  1843  ne  m" 
terspersed  his  usual  literary  occupations  with  writing  pieces  of  verse 
concerning  his  children,  the  daughters,  of  course,  coming  in  for  the 
largest  share  of  these  rhyming  fancies.  To  show  how  a  literary  man 
may  gracefully  unbend  from  graver  studies  to  amuse  the  innocent 
beings  around  him,  I  copy  the  following  verses  from  his  note-book, 
under  date  1843: 

A  LAY  OF  ABBEY  PARK. 

The  King  of  the  Fairies  was  wanting  a  wife, 

And  thought  he  would  try  the  kingdom  of  Fife : 

So  he  came  to  St.  Andrews,  where  soon  the  gay  spark 

Found  his  way  through  the  town  to  sweet  Abbey  Park ; 

Rung  the  bell,  was  shown  in,  made  an  elegant  bow. 

Mrs.  Chambers  requested  that  he'd  take  a  chair; 
He  did  so,  but  said  that  he  scarcely  knew  how 

To  begin  to  inform  her  about  his  affair : 
The  fact  was,  the  Queen  of  the  fairies  was  dead, 
And  he  wanted  again  to  be  happily  wed ; 
So  hearing  reports  of  the  six  Misses  C., 

All  booming  and  handsome  (though  not  much  purse), 
He  thought  how  exceedingly  nice  it  would  be 

If  one  would  take  him  for  better  for  worse. 
His  queen,  he  said,  was  kept  not  ill — 

Pin-money  handsome,  a  coach  of  her  own, 
A  palace  built  snug  in  the  side  of  a  hill; 

And  further,  he  said,  he  could  not  depone. 
Mamma  thought  the  offer  a  capital  chance, 
So  she  called  in  her  troop  like  an  opera  dance, 
And  told  his  kingship  that  he  might 
At  least  of  her  beauties  have  a  sight ; 
Papa,  she  said,  would  soon  be  in 

(For  he,  good  man,  had  gone  to  golf), 
When  they  might  talk  of  it  chin  to  chin, 

And  so  it  would  either  be  on  or  off. 
Just  then  comes  in  Pa,  hears  the  story,  quite  grave : 
"  Well,  which  would  your  majesty  choose  to  have  ? 
Here's  Jane,  the  eldest,  we'll  begin  with  her, 
Or  I  never  would  hear  an  end  of  the  stir." 
"  O,"  says  the  king,  "  she's  too  much  grown, 
A  full  head  taller  than  me,  you'll  own." 
"  Well,  here's  our  charming  maid,  Miss  Mary, 
Who  seems  already  one  half  a  fairy — 
The  dark  gazelle,  the  Andalusian  !" 
••  O,  such  eyes  in  my  kingdom  would  breed  confusion !" 
"  Then  here's  Miss  Annie,  an  honest  young  woman, 
Who  is  fond  of  every  thing  that's  at  all  uncommon ; 
Although  in  good  sense  surpassed  by  few  " — 
"  O,  a  blonde  in  Fairyland  won't  do." 


EDINBURGH  —  RESIDENCE    OF    ROBERT.  683 

«'  Well,  here  are  our  twins ;  and  first  Jenny, 

A  gentle,  benevolent  sort  of  a  henny, 

Who  would  tend  you  kindly  if  you  were  sick — 

Next  pranksome  Lizz,  full  of  fun  and  trick." 

"  O,  these  are  but  one,  though  two  appear ; 

I  couldn't  take  half  a  queen,  I  fear. 

I  rather  would  err  on  the  other  side, 

And  have  something  more  than  one  for  my  bride." 

Delighted,  cried  Pa  :  "  Here's  the  very  thing, 

Our  Major  Amelia,  who  well  can  sing, 

For  she's  two  pretty  misses  in  one !" 

At  once,  then  the  king  cried :  "  Done,  sir;  done!" 

So  Amelia  was  dressed  in  a  frock  of  green, 

And  away  she  tripped  as  the  Fairy  Queen, 

And  at  Abbey  Park  ne'er  again  was  seen." 

In  1840  Robert  was  elected  a  member  of  the  Royal  Society  of 
Edinburgh,  from  which  time  to  1850  he  carried  on  an  extensive 
epistolary  correspondence  with  men  of  literary  and  scientific  repute  ; 
and  at  this  period  he  often  visited  London,  where  he  mingled  in  the 
society  of  men  of  letters.  His  mind  had  become  occupied  with 
speculative  theories  which  brought  him  into  communication  with  Sir 
Charles  Bell,  George  Combe,  his  brother  Dr.  Andrew  Combe,  Dr. 
Neil  Arnott,  Professor  Edward  Forbes,  Dr.  Samuel  Brown,  and  other 
thinkers  on  physiology  and  mental  philosophy.  Of  Sir  Charles  Bell, 
he  says  in  a  note,  on  hearing  of  the  sudden  death  of  that  eminent 
surgeon  and  physiologist  (1842):  "Sir  Charles  was  my  father  at  the 
Royal  Society — a  most  ingenious,  excellent  man."  He  had  likewise, 
in  a  more  particular  manner,  acquired  a  fancy  for  geological  investi- 
gations, which  introduced  him  to  another  class  of  inquirers.  Return- 
ing to  Edinburgh,  and  residing  at  Doune  Terrace,  his  house  was  open 
to  all  strangers  of  literary  or  scientific  tastes  who  were  pleased  to 
visit  him ;  and  he  now  may  be  said  to  have  acquired  a  wide  circle 
of  acquaintances.  His  conversaziones  at  this  period  will  still  be  re- 
membered. Often  they  had  some  specific  object,  such  as  showing 
antiquities  of  historical  interest,  and  saying  something  regarding  them 
for  the  amusement  of  the  guests ;  or  of  discussing  some  curious  point 
in  geology  that  had  lately  been  exciting  remark ;  for  example,  the 
traces  of  glacial  action  disclosed  on  the  face  of  a  huge  bowlder  by  the 
cutting  of  the  Queen's  Drive  on  Arthur's  Seat.  With  such  phenom- 
ena as  this  he  was  familiar,  as  is  seen  by  his  communications  to  the 
Royal  Society  of  Edinburgh. 

My  brother  took  up  geology,  not  as  a  plaything,  but  as  a  matter 
to  be  pursued  with  his  usual  quiet  earnestness  of  purpose.  He  went 
off  from  time  to  time  on  trips  to  different  parts  of  England,  Scotland, 
and  Ireland ;  his  explorations,  however,  being  confined  in  a  great 
measure  to  the  sea-coast,  the  shores  of  lakes,  and  banks  of  rivers,  in 
order  to  trace  the  mutations  that  had  in  the  course  of  ages  taken  place 
on  the  earth's  surface,  as  regards  the  relative  level  of  sea  and  land. 


684  ROBERT    AND     WILLIAM    CHAMBERS. 

The  result  of  these  excursions,  and  of  much  consideration  on  the 
subject,  was  the  work,  "Ancient  Sea-Margins,"  published  in  1848. 
The  facts  detailed  were  geologically  instructive,  as  well  as  interesting 
from  another  point  of  view  ;  for  the  explanations  regarding  raised 
beaches  at  once  put  to  flight  the  mythic  legends  concerning  the  old 
parallel  roads  of  Glenroy,  and  similar  terrace-like  appearances. 

While  partially  occupied  by  pursuits  of  this  kind,  and  neither  from 
his  habits  nor  inclinations  suited  to  engage  in  the  turmoil  of  civic 
administration,  he  weakly  and  unfortunately,  at  the  close  of  autumn, 

1848,  permitted  himself  to  be  brought  forward  as  a  candidate  for,  the 
office  of  Lord  Provost  of  Edinburgh,  which  was  about  to  be  vacated. 
The  movement,  though  well  meant,  was  ill-timed.     Sectarianism  ran 
high.     Means  the  most  unscrupulous  were  employed  to  injure  him  in 
general  estimation.     A   city  for  which  he  had  done  something  not 
readily  to  be  forgotten,  was  invoked  to  do   him  dishonor.     And,  as 
might  have  been   anticipated  from  his  singularly  sensitive  nature,  he 
threw  up  his  candidature  in   disgust,  leaving   the   field  open  to  his 
more   favored  adversary.     The  whole  thing  was  a  mistake.     Robert 
ought  on  no  account  to  have   suffered  himself  to  be  brought  into  a 
position  so  alien  to  his  feelings.     He  might  have  been  well  assured 
that  a  rumor  to  the  effect  that   he  was  the  author  of  a  work  which 
had  caused  no  little  exasperation,    "  Vestiges  of  the  Natural  History 
of  Creation,"  would  be  used  to  his  disadvantage,  and  that  any  thing 
he  might  say  on  the  subject  would  be  unavailing.     As  if  to  cover  the 
whole  affair  with  ridicule,  the  theories  propounded  in  the  work  which 
caused  so  much  civic  commotion,  have  since  been  rivaled,  if  not  out- 
done, in   seeming  extravagance   by   Darwin,    without  incurring  any 
particular  animosity.     It  appears  now  to  be  generally  recognized  that 
the  utmost  latitude  may  be  allowed  to  scientific  research  and  specu- 
lation, without  endangering  the  foundations  of   religious  belief;  so 
greatly  has  the  world  advanced  in  liberality  of  sentiment  during  the 
last  quarter  of  a  century. 

It  is  grateful  to  turn  from  this  brief  but  unpleasant  episode  to  some 
notice  of  an  excursion  which  he  made  to  the  north  of  Europe.  In 
the  summer  of  1848  he  had  visited  Rhineland  and  Switzerland,  with 
a  view  to  satisfy  himself  on  the  subject  of  glacial  action,  the  theories 
regarding  which,  of  Agassiz  and  Forbes,  had  lately  raised  much  in- 
terest among  geologists.  As  Norway  was  known  to  offer  some  strik- 
ing examples  of  the  effects  produced  by  glaciers,  my  brother  resolved 
to  proceed  thither.  Quitting  Edinburgh  in  the  latter  part  of  June, 

1849,  ne  sailed  from  Hull  to  Copenhagen  ;  thence  he  went  to  Got- 
tenburg,  from  which  he  made  a  deliberate  journey  through  Sweden 
and  Norway,  sometimes  going  by  steam -vessels,  sometimes  by  cari- 
oles,  and  at  other  times  by  boats  on  the  fiords  that  indent  the  coast; 
but  always  making  explorations  on  foot  wherever  it   »vas  expedient  to 
do  so.     The  result  of  the  excursion  was  given   in  a  series  of  papers 
in  Chambers' s  Journal,  at  the  close  of  1849  an<^  beginning  of  1850, 


"TRACINGS    IN    THE    NORTH."  685 

under  the  title  of  "  Tracings  of  the  North  of  Europe."  Besides  any 
scientific  value  attaching  to  these  papers,  they  offered  amusing  sketches 
of  the  social  condition  of  the  country  as  far  as  Hammerfest,  or  nearly 
to  the  seventy-first  degree  of  north  latitude. 

The  accounts  given  of  the  simple  politeness  and  kindly  hospitality 
of  the  people  form  the  most  agreeable  part  of  the  narrative.  These 
qualities  were  well  exemplified  when  boating  with  some  fellow-travel- 
lers in  the  Altcnfiord.  A  few  passages  may  here  be  presented  : 

SCENE  IN   NORWAY. 

"  In  the  afternoon,  after  rowing  upwards  of  twenty  miles,  we 
began  to  approach  Komagfiord,  where  we  designed  to  spend  the 
night.  The  washed,  shattered  coast  here  presents  remarkable  dis- 
turbances of  the  slate  strata,  with  curious  interjections,  vein  ings, 
and  contortions.  Many  blocks  appear,  lying  on  the  slate,  of  totally 
different  kinds  of  rock,  and  therefore  presumably  brought  from  a 
distance.  By-and-by  terraces  begin  to  appear,  with  many  of  these 
traveled  blocks  reposing  upon  them.  Such  stones  speak,  and  the 
tale  which  they  tell  is  as  truthful,  perhaps  more  truthful,  than  most 
of  those  narrated  in  black  and  white. 

"  At  length,  at  an  early  hour  of  the  evening,  we  turned  into  a 
comparatively  small,  but  sheltered  and  almost  land-locked  recess, 
where  we  first  see  palings  along  the  green  hill-sides,  indicating  pas- 
toral farming,  and  then  a  neat  house  seated  a  little  way  back  from 
the  shore,  with  a  number  of  smaller  buildings  scattered  near  it, 
including  one  which  advances  as  a  wharf  into  the  sea.  That  pretty 
red  and  yellow  mansion,  so  riant  with  its  clean  dimity  window 
curtains,  and  a  little  garden  in  front,  is  the  kiopman's  house  of 
Komagfiord.  It  has  a  small  porch  in  the  center,  with  a  wooden 
esplanade  and  a  short  flight  of  steps  descending  on  either  hand. 
A  good-looking  man,  in  the  prime  of  life,  leans  over  the  rail  at 
the  wharf,  to  receive  us  as  we  land.  We  are  met  by  him  with  a 
few  courteous  words  in  English ;  we  present  our  letter  of  recom- 
mendation for  Mr.  Buch,  the  kiopman,  who  presently  appears,  a 
bulkier  and  older  man,  of  remarkably  open  genial  countenance, 
reminding  me  much  of  Cowper's  description,  though  not  exactly 
true  so  far  as  dress  is  concerned, — 

• 

'  An  honest  man,  close-buttoned  to  the  chin, 
Broadcloth  without,  and  a  warm  heart  within.' 

He  meets  us  with  welcome,  and  we  are  speedily  conducted,  with  our  bag- 
gage, to  the  house,  a  few  steps  from  the  shore,  where  we  are  at  once 
introduced  into  a  clean  parlor,  adorned  with  family  portraitures  and 
some  of  the  favorite  prints  of  Sweden  and  Norway,  particularly  the 
never-absent  royal  family.  Mr.  Buch,  however,  does  not  speak  any  lan- 
guage besides  his  own.  He  only  looks  the  welcome  he  feels.  His  wife 


686  ROBERT    AND     WILLIAM    CHAMBERS. 

/ 

presently  appears,  a  pleasant-looking  matron  ;  likewise  his  daughter 
and  sole  child,  whom  we  by-and-by  discover  to  be  the  wife  of  the 
younger  man.  Two  or  three  little  children,  too,  the  offspring  of 
the  young  couple,  make  their  way  into  the  room  to  see  those  extra- 
ordinary beings,  the  English  strangers.  The  younger  man,  Mr. 
Fantrom,  knowing  a  good  deal  of  English,  we  speedily,  through  that 
channel,  become  acquainted  with  the  whole  of  this  amiable  family, 
from  whom  I  was  eventually  to  receive  a  greater  amount  of  kindness 
than  it  almost  ever  was  my  lot  to  experience  from  strangers.  We 
desired,  of  course,  to  be  considered  as  travelers  taking  advantage  in 
all  courtesy  of  the  obligation  under  which  the  kiopman  likes  to  receive 
such  persons  into  his  house ;  but  it  will  be  found  that  we  could  not 
induce  our  kind  hosts  to  regard  us  in  that  light.  The  family  seemed 
to  be  in  very  comfortable  circumstances,  and  the  union  in  which  the 
three  generations  lived  together  was  beautiful  to  contemplate.  I 
shall  not  soon,  I  trust,  forget  the  kiopman's  house  of  Komagfiord. 

"After  the  refreshment  of  tea — for  we  had  taken  a  good  luncheon 
at  sea — we  went  out  to  examine  the  neighboring  grounds,  and  soon 
ascertained  that  a  terrace  of  detrital  matter  and  blocks  goes  entirely 
round  the  little  valley,  at  the  height  of  about  sixty-four  feet  above 
the  sea.  Walking  along  it  round  the  angle  which  divides  the  fiord 
from  the  open  sea  in  Varg  Sound,  we  find  it  become  a  terrace  of  ero- 
sion on  the  rough  coast  there,  with  huge  blocks  every-where  incum- 
bering  its  surface — blocks  of  foreign  rock.  Mr.  Fantrom  obligingly 
went  along  with  us  over  this  ground,  and  seemed  glad  when  I  could 
employ  him  in  holding  the  leveling  staff  for  a  few  minutes.  We 
soon  found  him  a  very  sensible,  well-informed  man,  though  geology 
and  geodesy  were  new  ideas  to  his  mind. 

"  The  latter  part  of  the  evening  proved  extremely  beautiful,  and  we 
were  tempted  to  take  seats  on  the  esplanade  in  front  of  the  door,  to 
enjoy  the  cool  but  still  balmy  air,  a  delightful  refreshment  after  the 
heat  of  the  day.  The  little  fiord  lay  like  grass  below  our  feet,  with 
a  merchant  sloop  moored  in  the  entrance ;  the  rugged  mountains  be- 
yond the  Sound  rose  clear  into  the  bright  blue  sky,  where  the  light 
was  yet  scarcely  dulled.  Mr.  Buch  sat  down  with  his  long  pipe, 
emitting  alternate  puffs  of  smoke,  and  sentences  addressed  Jp  his  son- 
in-law  and  grandchildren.  The  bustle  of  Mrs.  Buch  engaged  in  her 
household  duties  made  the  smallest  possible  stir  within.  All  besides 
was  as  calm  as  nature  before  the  birth  of  sound.  Having  nothing 
better  to  do,  I  proposed  at  this  juncture  to  bring  out  my  flute,  and 
play  a  few  airs,  provided  it  should  be  agreeable  to  all  present. 

"This  being  cordially  assented  to,  I  proceeded  to  introduce  the 
music  of  my  native  country  to  these  simple-hearted  Norwegians.  The 
scenery  and  time  seemed  to  give  magic  to  what  might  otherwise  per- 
haps have  proved  of  very  little  interest ;  and  finding  my  audience 
give  unequivocal  tokens  of  being  pleased  with  my  performance,  I 
was  induced  to  go  on  from  one  tune  to  another  for  fully  an  hour. 


BURNS'    REL'ATIVESON    "BONNIE    BOON."  687 

It  was  curious  to  think  of  my  audience  hearing  for  the  first  time 
strains  which  are  an  inheritance  of  the  heart  to  every  Scottishman 
from  his  earliest  sense — to  myself,  for  instance,  since  three  years  old — 
and  to  reflect  on  some  of  our  national  favorites,  as  the  '  Flowers  of 
the  Forest,1  '  Loch  Erroch  Side,'  and  the  '  Shepherd's  Wife,'  now 
floating  over  the  unwonted  ground  of  a  Norwegian  fiord.  With  each 
air,  in  general,  the  idea  of  some  home  friend,  with  whom  it  is  a 
favorite,  was  associated.  There  was  scarcely  one  which  did  not  take 
my  mind  back  to  some  scene  endeared  by  domestic  affection,  or  the 
love  which,  in  common  with  every  Scot,  I  cherish  for  the  classic 
haunts  of  my  native  land.  It  was  deeply  interesting  now  to  summon 
up  all  these  associations  in  succession,  in  the  presence  of  an  alien 
family  who  could  know  nothing  of  them,  and  to  whom  it  would  have 
been  in  vain  to  explain  them,  but  who,  from  that  very  incapability 
of  sympathy,  made  them  in  the  existing  circumstances  fall  only  the 
more  touchingly  and  penetratingly  into  my  own  spirit." 

On  returning  from  his  northern  excursion,  my  brother  set  to  work 
on  a  subject  for  which  he  had  long  been  accumulating  materials — 
"  The  Life  and  Works  of  Robert  Burns."  As  the  brilliant  and  pain- 
ful history  of  Burns  had  been  already  written  by  seven  of  his  coun- 
trymen, it  might  seem  unnecessary  to  resume  its  consideration.  Some- 
thing, however,  was  wanting.  There  still  survived  persons  who  were 
acquainted  with  the  poet,  but  they  were  passing  away,  and  now  was 
the  time  for  gathering  from  them  such  facts  and  reminiscences  as 
might  serve  for  a  full  and  authentic  biography.  Among  others  whose 
memory  might  be  reckoned  on,  was  Burns'  youngest  sister,  Mrs.  Begg  ; 
and  she,  on  being  communicated  with,  entered  cordially  into  the 
project.  George  Thomson  was  also  at  hand,  and  glad  to  be  of  any 
service.  As  regards  the  works  of  the  poet,  a  peculiar  arrangement 
was  contemplated.  This  consisted  in  presenting  the  various  com- 
positions in  strict  chronological  order,  in  connection  with  the  narra- 
tive, so  that  they  might  render  up  the  whole  light  they  were  qualified 
to  throw  upon  the  history  of  the  life  and  mental  progress  of  Burns  ; 
at  the  same  time  that  a  new  significance  was  given  to  them  by  their 
being  read  in  connection  with  the  current  of  events  and  emotions 
which  led  to  their  production.  Acting  on  this  plan,  and  after  minute 
personal  investigations,  the  "Life  and  Works  of  Robert  Burns  "  was 
produced  in  1850.  It  was  well  received,  and  passed  through  several 
editions,  to  suit  different  classes  of  purchasers. 

Already,  a  small  pension  on  the  roll  of  Her  Majesty's  Charities 
and  Bounties  for  Scotland  had  been  granted  to  Mrs.  Begg  and  her 
two  daughters,  and  some  private  efforts  had  been  further  made  in  their 
behalf.  My  brother  set  on  foot  the  collection  of  a  fund,  which  was 
moderately  successful.  In  writing  from  Edinburgh,  May  4,  1842,  to 
his  wife  at  St.  Andrews,  he  says :  "  On  Monday,  the  first  fruits  of 
my  application  for  Burns'  sister  approved  in  two  tributes,  one  of  ten 


688  ROBERT    AND     WILLIAM     CHAMBERS. 

pounds  from  Mr.  Tegg,  bookseller ;  the  other,  ten  guineas  from  Mr. 
Procter,  the  poet.  Isn't  that  capital?"  To  increase  these  resources, 
the  profits  of  a  cheap  edition  of  the  "Life  and  Works  of  Burns" 
were  set  aside.  The  sum  realized  was  not  great,  but  it  helped. 
Writing  under  date  May  15,  1856,  to  James  Grant  Wilson,  son  of  his 
friend  Wilson  of  Poughkeepsie,  and  who  had  lately  been  in  Scotland, 
Robert  says  :  "I  am  glad  you  saw  old  Mrs.  Begg,  but  it  was  a  pity  to 
miss  the  black  eyes  and  intelligent  face  of  her  daughter,  Isabella,  who 
is  a  charming  creature  of  her  kind  and  sort,  and  more  a  reminiscence 
of  Burps  than  even  her  mother.  Just  about  a  fortnight  ago,  W.  and 
R.  C.  had  the  pleasure  of  handing  two  hundred  pounds  to  the  Misses 
Begg,  being  the  profits  of  the  cheap  edition  of  the  "Life  and  Works 
of  Burns"  edited  by  me,  as  promised  by  us  at  the  time  of  publica- 
tion. This  sum  will  lie  at  interest,  accumulating  till  Mrs.  Begg  and 
her  annuity  cease,  when,  with  one  hundred  and  sixty  pounds  of  the 
fund  formerly  collected  for  Mrs.  B.,  it  will  be  sunk  in  distinct  annui- 
ties for  the  daughters.  The  result,  with  their  several  pensions  of  ten 
pounds,  will  place  them  above  all  risk  of  any  thing  like  want.  They 
well  deserve  all  that  has  been  done  for  them  by  their  self-devotion  to 
their  mother  in  less  bright  days.  I  have  great  pleasure  in  thinking 
of  that  happy  family  on  the  banks  of  Boon,  and  reflecting  on  the 
little  services  I  have  been  able  to  render  them." 

In  June,  1855,  ^e  ^a^  an  excellent  opportunity  of  visiting  the  Faroe 
Islands  and  Iceland,  and  this,  for  geological  reasons,  he  did  not  neg- 
lect. The  Thor,  a  Danish  screw  war  steamer,  touched  at  Leith  on  its 
way  to  Iceland,  and  at  a  certain  charge  six  gentlemen  were  accommo- 
dated as  passengers.  It  was  a  pleasant  trip.  Reikiavik,  the  capital 
of  Iceland,  was  reached  in  safety ;  and  in  a  day  or  two  began  a  jour- 
ney, in  a  rude  fashion,  on  the  backs  of  ponies,  to  the  famed  Geysers,  a 
distance  of  seventy  miles  across  a  wild  country,  with  no  proper  places 
for  rest  or  lodging.  Yet,  as  he  describes  the  excursion,  it  was,  though 
rough,  a  novel,  hilarious  affair  after  all.  At  Thingvalla,  the  only 
accommodation  for  the  night  was  to  bivouac  in  the  church,  and  the 
only  means  of  lingual  communication  with  the  clergyman  who  acted 
as  host,  was  in  a  corrupt  Latin.  Robert  made  his  couch  in  the  pul- 
pit. On  the  second  day  the  party  got  to  a  farm-house  in  the  vicinity 
of  the  Geysers ;  and  next  morning  some  of  these  hot-water  volcanoes 
were  in  ebullition.  The  chief  curiosity  is  the  Great  Geyser,  a  kind 
of  well,  nine  feet  in  diameter,  and  eighty-seven  feet  deep,  from  which 
were  seen  thrown  up  violent  jets  of  water  to  a  height  of  from  seventy 
to  a  hundred  feet.  The  heat  of  the  water  is  extraordinary.  "  It  has 
been  found  that  the  water  of  the  Great  Geyser  at  the  bottom  of  the 
tube  has  a  temperature  higher  than  that  of  ordinary  boiling  water, 
and  this  goes  on  increasing  till  an  eruption  takes  place,  immediately 
before  which  it  has  been  found  as  high  as  261°  Fahrenheit,"  or  49° 
above  ordinary  boiling-point,  a  circumstance  inferring  enormous  com- 


DOMESTIC    ANNALS     OF     SCOTLAND.  689 

pression  under  violent  heat,  until  the  water  bursts  out  into  the  atmos- 
phere. 

Returning  by  the  way  they  had  come,  the  excursionists  were  again 
glad  to  take  up  their  quarters  in  the  establishment  of  the  parish 
minister,  who,  it  appeared  on  a  cross-examination  in  Latin  by  my 
brother,  supported  a  wife  and  eight  children,  performed  his  parochial 
duties,  and  traveled  once  a  month  to  a  preaching  station  eighteen 
miles  distant,  all  for  five-and-twenty  pounds  a  year.  "  We  could  not 
but  wonder  how  so  large  a  family,  besides  a  horse,  could  be  supported 
on  means  so  small.  In  wandering  about  the  place,  I  lighted  upon 
his  little  stithy,  which  reminds  me  to  tell  that  in  Iceland  a  priest  is 
always  able  to  shoe  your  horses  if  required.  The  little  book  in  which 
these  particulars  were  given,  entitled  "  Tracing  in  Iceland  and  the 
Faroe  Islands,"  was  published  in  1856. 

A  number  of  years  had  elapsed  since  he  wrote  a  "  History  of  Scot- 
land "  for  a  series  of  books  issued  by  Richard  Bentley.  The  subject 
was  so  familiar,  that  he  now  applied  himself  with  zest  to  a  work  en- 
titled the  "Domestic  Annals  of  Scotland."  It  was  comprised  in 
three  volumes.  Two  of  these  were  issued  in  1859,  and  a  third  ap- 
peared in  1 86 1.  The  period  over  which  the  annals  extended  was 
from  the  Reformation  to  the  Rebellion  of  1745,  nearly  two  hundred 
of  the  most  interesting  years  in  Scottish  history.  The  work,  however, 
was  not  a  history  in  the  usual  sense  of  the  word.  It  consisted  of  a 
chronicle  of  occurrences  of  a  familiar,  sometimes  amusing  nature, 
beneath  the  region  of  history,  but  calculated  to  convey  a  correct 
notion  of  the  manners,  customs,  passions,  superstitions,  and  ignorance 
of  the  people ;  the  pestilences,  famines,  and  other  extraordinary  events 
which  disturbed  their  tranquillity ;  the  traits  of  false  political  economy 
by  which  their  well-being  was  checked  ;  and  generally  those  things 
which  enable  us  to  see  how  our  forefathers  thought,  felt,  and  suffered, 
and  how,  on  the  whole,  ordinary  life  looked  in  their  days.  The 
materials  for  this  assemblage  of  facts  were  searched  for  in  public 
records,  acts  of  parliament,  criminal  trials,  private  diaries,  family 
papers,  histories,  biographies,  journals  of  transactions,  etc.  ;  the 
whole  amounting  to  nearly  a  hundred  different  authorities,  while  the 
passages  selected  were  so  strung  together  chronologically  as  to  offer 
a  progressive  picture  of  the  times.  On  this  work,  so  laborious,  yet 
coincident  with  his  feelings,  he  occupied  himself  at  times  during  five 
years  without  in  any  respect  remitting  his  writings  for  Chambers' s 
Journal. 

About  this  time  (1860),  he  edited  and  wrote  an  introductory  notice 
to  a  volume  purporting  to  be  the  "  Memoirs  of  a  Banking-house,"  by 
Sir  William  Forbes,  of  Pitsligo,  Bart.,  author  of  the  life  of  the  poet 
Beattie.  The  banking-house  so  signalized  was  that  which  was  set  on 
foot  in  Edinburgh  by  John  Coutts  &  Co.,  who  occupied  as  business 
premises  an  upper  floor  in  the  Parliament  Close.  The  Coutts  family 
were  from  Montrose,  and  began  as  corn-merchants  and  negotiators 
44 


690  ROBERT     AND     WILLIAM     CHAMBERS. 

of  bills  of  exchange.  One  of  them,  John  Cotitts,  was  Lord  Provost 
of  Edinburgh  in  1742.  He  had  four  sons — Patrick,  John,  James,  and 
Thomas.  By  these  the  business  was  continued,  and  received  as  ap- 
prentice the  youthful  Sir  William  Forbes,  in  1754.  In  the  whole 
round  of  biography,  there  is  nothing  finer  by  way  of  example  to  the 
young  than  the  life  of  Sir  William  Forbes.  Born  in  1739,  heir  to  a 
baronetcy,  and  left  fatherless  at  four  years  of  age,  without  patrimony, 
he  was,  commercially  speaking,  a  self-made  man,  though,  like  many 
youths  in  similar  circumstances,  he  owed  much  to  the  care  of  an 
amiable  and  intelligent  mother,  who,  dwelling  in  a  small  house  in 
one  of  the  dingy  lanes  of  Edinburgh,  maintained  on  the  most  slender 
means  the  style  and  manners  ofxi  lady.  Her  son,  Sir  William,  a 
boy  fourteen  years  of  age,  instead  of  being  bred  to  one  of  the 
"  learned  professions,"  was  put  apprentice  to  Messrs.  Coutts;  from  an 
apprentice,  he  became  a  junior  clerk ;  from  a  clerk,  he  rose  to  be  a 
partner ;  and  finally,  when  several  of  the  partners  died  or  quitted 
Edinburgh,  the  firm  was  transformed  into  that  of  Sir  William  Forbes  & 
Co.,  of  which  he  was  the  leading  member.  The  firm,  as  is  well 
known,  is  now  merged  in  the  Union  Bank  of  Scotland. 

Sir  William,  as  we  learn  from  the  memoir,  was  reared,  and  acquired 
strict  habits  of  business,  chiefly  under  the  eye  of  John  Coutts ;  for 
Thomas,  his  brother,  the  youngest  son  of  the  Lord  Provost,  removed 
to  London.  There,  founding  the  banking  concern  of  Coutts  &  Co., 
he  died  in  1822,  at  about  ninety  years  of  age;  his  youngest  daughter 
Sophia,  married  to  Sir  Francis  Burdett,  being  mother  of  the  much- 
esteemed  Baroness  Burdett  Coutts.  The  memoir,  which  contains 
many  curious  particulars  about  banking  in  the  olden  time,  was  writ- 
ten by  Sir  William  Forbes,  with  a  view  to  impress  his  son  and  suc- 
cessor with  the  paramount  importance  of  exercising,  with  diligence 
in  his  profession,  the  highest  principles  of  integrity,  for  only  by  such 
could  he  expect  to  sustain  the  enviable  reputation  of  the  house. 
The  universal  mourning  on  the  death  of  Sir  VVilliam  Forbes,  in  1806, 
shortly  after  he  had  completed  his  "  Life  of  Beattie,"  caused  Sir 
Walter  Scott  to  refer  to  him  in  one  of  the  cantos  of  "  Marmion," 
when  addressing  the  amiable  banker's  son-in-law,  and  the  poet's 
friend,  Mr.  Skene,  of  Rubislaw  : 

"  Scarce  had  the  lamented  Forbes  paid 
The  tribute  to«his  minstrel's  shade, — 
The  tale  of  friendship  scarce  was  told, 
Ere  the  narrator's  heart  was  cold. 
Far  we  may  search  before  we  find 
A  heart  so  manly  and  so  kind." 

In  editing  the  autobiography  of  this  distinguished  banker,  my 
brother  enjoyed  a  pleasure  instead  of  performing  a  task.  The  same 
might  be  said  of  a  series  of  detached  papers,  written  at  spare  inter- 
vals, or  to  deliver  as  lectures.  The  subjects  of  these  tracts,  ultimately 


WILLIAM     VISITS     AMERICA.  69! 

issued  in  1861  under  the  title  of  "Edinburgh  Papers,"  were  vari- 
ous— old  domestic  architecture,  merchants  and  merchandise  in  old 
times,  the  posture  of  the  scientific  world,  some  notions  on  geol- 
ogy, and  the  romantic  Scottish  ballads.  By  this  last-named  paper, 
the  accepted  opinions  regarding  several  popular  ballads,  as  given  by 
Percy  and  Scott,  were  considerably  ruffled.  In  it  he  ventured  to 
show  that,  so  far  from  being  ancient,  these  ballads  had  been  written, 
in  an  affectedly  old  style,  not  earlier  than  the  beginning  of  the  eight- 
eenth century — the  surreptitious  manufacture  being  executed  by  a 
woman  clever  at  versification,  Lady  Wardlaw,  of  Pitreavie.  Professor 
Aytoun,  among  others,  was,  of  course,  not  well  pleased  at  this  un- 
happy overturn  of  certain  literary  traditions,  but  could  not  disprove 
the  accuracy  of  the  view  that  had  been  adopted.  There  was.  at  the 
time  considerable  discussion  on  the  subject. 

My  brother  and  I  had  talked  of  visiting  the  United  States  and 
Canada.  We  had  pretty  extensive  business  relations  in  these  coun- 
tries ;  but  what  chiefly  interested  us  was  the  social  aspect  of  affairs 
beyond  the  Atlantic.  I  was  able  to  make  this  desired  trip  in  1853, 
the  account  of  which  appeared  as  "Things  as  they  are  in  America" 
(1854).  Robert's  excursion  was  postponed  for  a  few  years  longer. 

When  the  old  Theater  Royal  in  Edinburgh  was  about  to  be  taken 
down  in  1859,  in  order  to  make  way  for  the  new  General  Post-office, 
he,  at  the  request  of  some  amateurs  of  the  drama,  wrote  a  historical 
sketch  of  the  old  building,  with  its  successive  managers,  and  the  great 
theatrical  stars  who  had  made  their  appearance  on  its  stage.  The 
pamphlet  was  a  trifle,  but  not  devoid  of  some  amusing  particulars; 
for  example,  the  account  given  of  the  visit  of  Mrs.  Siddons,  in  May, 
1784,  when  she  performed  twelve  nights,  extending  over  a  period  of 
three  weeks,  and 'during  which  she  played  her  principal  characters, 
including  Mrs.  Beverly,  Jane  Shore,  Isabella,  Lady  Randolph,  and 
Euphrasia  in  the  "Grecian  Daughter:" 

MRS.    SIDDONS. 

"The  furor  created  in  the  town  by  the  performances  of  this  illus- 
trious lady  was  extraordinary.  Prodigious  crowds  attended  hours 
before  the  performance  for  the  chance  of  a  place.  It  came  to  be 
necessary  to  admit  them  at  three,  and  then  people  began  to  attend 
at  twelve  to  get  in  at  three.  The  General  Assembly  of  the  Church, 
in  session  at  the  time,  found  it  necessary  to  arrange  their  meetings 
with  some  reference  to  the  hours  at  the  theater,  for  the  younger  mem- 
bers had  discovered  that  attendance  on  Mrs.  Siddons's  performances 
was  calculated  to  be  of  some  advantage  to  them  as  a  means  of  im- 
proving their  elocution.  People  came  from  distant  places,  even  from 
Newcastle,  to  witness  what  all  spoke  of  with  wonder.  There  were 
one  day  applications  for  2,557  places,  while  there  were  only  630  of 
that  kind  in  the  house.  Porters  and  servants  had  to  bivouac  for  a 


692  ROBERT     AND     WILLIAM     CHAMBERS. 

night  in  the  streets  on  mats  and  palliasses,  in  order  that  they  might 
get  an  early  chance  of  admission  to  the  box-office  next  day.  At  the 
more  thrilling  parts  of  the  performance  the  audience  were  agitated 
to  a  degree  unprecedented  in  this  cool  latitude.  Many  ladies  fainted. 
This  was  particularly  the  case  on  the  evening  when  '  Isabella,  or  the 
Fatal  Marriage,'  was  performed.  The  personator  of  Isabella  has  to 
exhibit  the  distress  of  a  wife  on  finding,  after  a  second  marriage,  that 
her  first  and  loved  hnsband,  Biron,  is  still  alive.  Mrs.  Siddons  her- 
self was  left  at  the  close  in  such  an  exhausted  state  that  some  min- 
utes elapsed  before  she  could  be  carried  off  the  stage.  A  young 
heiress,  Miss  Gordon  of  Gight,  in  Aberdeenshire,  was  carried  out  of 
her  box  in  hysterics,  screaming  loudly  the  words  caught  from  the 
•great  actress :  '  O,  my  Biron  !  my  Biron !'  A  strange  tale  was  there- 
with connected. "  A  gentleman,  whom  she  had  not  at  this  time  seen 
or  heard  of,  the  Honorable  John  Biron,  next  year  met,  paid  his 
addresses,  and  married  her.  It  was  to  her  a  fatal  marriage  in  several 
respects,  although  it  gave  to  the  world  the  poet  Lord  Byron.  Strange 

to  say,  a  lady  lived   till  January,  1858,   the  Dowager  Lady  G , 

who  was  in  the  house  that  evening,  and  who  never  could  forget  the 
ominous  sounds  of  'O,  my  Biron  !'  The  writer  of  this  little  memoir 
has  heard  the  story  related  by  another  lady,  who  was  also  in  the  house 
that  night,  and  who  died  in  1855.  By  her  performances  in  Edin- 
burgh on  this  occasion  Mrs.  Siddons  cleared  i,ooo/.,  her  benefit 
alone  yielding  3507.;  all  this  being  over  and  above  the  profits  of  a 
night  given  to  the  Charity  Work-house.  It  was  remarked  that  the 
doctors  ought  to  have  given  her  a  piece  of  plate,  for  there  prevailed 
for  some  time  after  her  visit  a  disorder  called  the  *  Siddons  fever  ' — 
a  pure  consequence,  as  was  believed,  of  the  unusual  exposure,  excite- 
ment, and  fatigue  to  which  she  had  been  the  means  of  subjecting  a 
large  part  of  the  community." 

Robert,  accompanied  by  his  wife,  effected  his  long  desired  visit  to 
America  in  1860,  every-where  receiving  much  attention  from  men  of 
literary  and  scientific  tastes.  Unfortunately,  his  dear  old  friend  and 
correspondent,  Willie  Wilson,  had  died  shortly  before  his  arrival  in 
the  country.  Of  his  extensive  excursion  my  brother  did  not  give  any 
regular  account,  but  contented  himself  with  writing  two  or  three 
articles  in  Chambers' s  Journal.  One  of  these,  entitled  "  A  City 
Elevated,"  was  a  description  of  the  method  of  raising  houses  bodily 
four  to  five  feet  above  the  level  on  which  they  had  been  built,  with- 
out the  slightest  derangement  to  the  walls  or  contents  of  the  build- 
ing. This  extraordinary  method  of  elevation  he  saw  at  Chicago  in 
October,  1860,  the  object  of  the  process  being  to  raise  the  rows  of 
dwellings  sufficiently  high  above  Lake  Michigan  to  give  an  outfall  to 
the  drainage  of  the  town.  The  work,  he  says,  was  executed  by  con- 
tract, the  raising  of  a  hugh  pile  of  buildings  costing  3,5007.  This 
process  of  house-raising  seemed  to  him  a  wonderful  novelty  in 

\ 


ROBERT    IN    THE     UNITED     STATES.  693 

engineering.     A  few  passages  as  to  how  the  thing  was  done  may  be 
quoted : 

A   CITY    ELEVATED. 

"  The  first  step  is  to  scarify  away  all  the  ground  or  fabric  of  any 
kind  around  the  base  of  the  building,  supplying,  however,  provisional 
galleries  and  gangways  for  the  use  of  the  public  during  the  process  of 
elevation.  Then  the  earth  is  dug  out  from  under  a  portion  of  the 
foundations  and  strong  beams  inserted,  supported  by  rows  of  jack- 
screws  set  together  as  closely  as  possible.  When  this  is  properly 
arranged  another  piece  of  the  foundations  is  removed  in  like  manner, 
and  so  on  till  beams  with  jack-screws  are  under  every  wall  of  the 
mass  of  building.  In  the  case  of  the  block  in  question,  there  were 
in  all  six  thousand  screws  employed. 

"  The  next  step  is  to  arrange  for  putting  the  screws  into  action. 
To  every  ten  a  man  is  assigned,  furnished  with  a  crowbar.  At  the 
signal  of  a  whistle  he  turns  a  screw  one-fourth  round,  goes  on  to  an- 
other which  he  turns  in  like  manner,  and  so  on  till  all  are  turned. 
The  screw  having  a  thread  of  three-eighths  of  an  inch,  the  building 
has  thus  been  raised  a  fourth  part  of  that  space  throughout,  or  exactly 
3~32d  of  an  inch.  The  whistle  again  sounds;  each  crowbar  is  again 
applied  to  its  series  of  ten  screws,  and  a  similar  amount  of  vertical 
movement  for  the  whole  building  is  accomplished.  And  this  opera- 
tion is  repeated  till  the  whole  required  elevation  is  accomplished. 
When  the  desired  elevation  is  attained,  the  beams  are  one  by  one 
replaced  with  a  substructure  of  masonry,  and  the  pavement  is  restored 
on  the  new  level.  In  this  case  the  elevation  of  four  feet  eight  inches 
was  accomplished  in  five  days,  and  it  is  stated  that  the  cost  of  new 
foundations  and  pavement  was  from  forty  to  fifty  thousand  dollars. 
The  block,  which  was  full  of  inhabitants,  contained  much  plate-glass, 
elegantly  painted  walls,  and  many  delicate  things ;  but  not  a  pane  was 
Broken,  a  particle  of  plaster  or  paint  displaced,  nor  a  piece  of  furni- 
ture injured.  The  writer  deems  it  not  superfluous  to  say,  that  he  saw 
and  partly  inspected  this  mass  of  building,  and  certainly  found 
nothing  that  could  have  led  him  to  surmise  that  it  had  originally 
rested  on  a  plane  nearly  five  feet  below  its  present  level. 

"  Let  us  English  people  ponder  on  these  heroic  undertakings  of  our 
American  cousins.  They  are  well  worthy  of  imitation.  It  is  the  mis- 
fortune of  many  of  our  cities  that  large  portions  of  them  are  built  on 
ground  so  little  above  the  level  of  an  adjacent  river  as  to  be  but  im- 
perfectly drainable.  Southwark  is  a  notable  example,  and  Belgravia, 
with  finer  buildings,  is  no  better  off  in  this  important  respect.  Sani- 
tary considerations  point  out  how  desirable  in  these  cases  it  is  that 
the  buildings  should  be  raised  a  few  feet.  Chicago,  a  town  of  yes- 
terday, scarcely  yet  to  be  heard  of  in  geographical  gazetteers,  has 
shown  that  it  can  be  done,  and,  comparatively  speaking,  at  no  great 
expense. ' ' 


694  ROBERT     AND    WILLIAM     CHAMBERS. 

We  now  approach  the  end.  On  my  brother's  return  from  America, 
there  were  consultations  on  the  project  of  a  work,  likely  to  be  success- 
ful, but  which  could  not  be  executed  in  Edinburgh.  It  required  the 
resources  of  the  British  Museum.  For  this  purpose  it  was  resolved 
that  he  should  migrate,  with  his  family,  to  London,  if  his  stay  should 
be  only  for  a  few  years.  So  to  London  he  went,  his  residence  being 
in  one  of  the  pleasant  villas  at  St.  John's  Wood.  The  work  which 
had  suggested  this  wrench  in  accustomed  habits  was  the  "Book  of 
Days,"  a  miscellany  of  popular  antiquities  in  connection  with  the 
calendar,  including  anecdotes,  biographies,  curiosities  of  literature, 
and  oddities  of  human  life  and  character.  Formed  somewhat  on  the 
plan  of  Hone's  "Every-Day  Book,"  the  work  was  considerably  more 
elaborate  and  searching. 

It  is  painful  to  relate  what  happened.  Some  anticipated  help  hav- 
ing failed,  and  forced  to  rely  too  exclusively  on  himself,  his  mental 
powers  underwent  a  strain  they  were  ill  able  to  bear.  The  work  was 
finished,  but  the  author  was  finished  also.  Not  that  he  died  on  the 
spot,  but  his  system  was  shattered,  and  he  could  not  in  future  incur 
any  continuous  exertion.  To  aggravate  his  disorder,  he  experienced 
some  sad  domestic  bereavements.  In  September,  1863,  he  lost  his 
wife,  and  almost  immediately  thereafter  Janet,  a  favorite  twin-daughter 
of  much  promise.  Like  most  other  works  he  produced,  the  "Book 
of  Days  "  proved  a  success.  But  at  what  a  cost !  He  was  heard  to 
say:  "  That  book  was  my  death-blow,"  and  such  it  really  was. 

Returning  to  Scotland  in  an  enfeebled  state  of  health,  my  brother 
took  up  his  residence  in  St.  Andrews,  a  place  to  which  he  had  twenty 
years  previously  become  attached,  on  account  of  its  agreeable  society, 
its  bracing  atmosphere,  and  its  extensive  links,  or  downs,  noted  for 
the  game  of  golf,  a  healthful  out-door  amusement,  not  demanding 
too  great  an  amount  of  physical  exertion.  There  we  may  leave  him 
for  a  little  space,  in  the  society  of  his  youngest  and  unmarried 
daughter,  Alice — his  windows  overlooking  the  Firth  of  Tay,  and  the 
celebrated  Bell-rock  Light-house  flashing  far  in  the  east,  like  a  lus- 
trous gem  on  the  bosom  of  the  German  Ocean. 

A    SKELETON   IN    THE   HOUSE,  AND    OTHER   MATTERS. 

There  is  a  skeleton  in  every  house !  All  have  some  thing  or  other 
to  trouble  them,  however  well  off  and  at  ease  they  may  appear  to  be. 
For  twenty-one  years  after  the  commencement  of  Chambers' s  Journal, 
and  while  all  seemed  to  be  going  on  prosperously,  my  brother  and  I 
were  plagued  with  a  skeleton,  of  whom  the  world  had  no  means  of 
being  cognizant.  The  nature  of  the  skeleton  was  this.  Operating 
from  Edinburgh  as  a  center,  we  had  necessarily  to  intrust  a  large 
commission  business  to  a  bookseller  in  London,  who  had  us  pretty 
much  at  his  mercy.  Things  might  be  going  right  or  wrong  with 
him,  for  any  thing  we  could  satisfactorily  discover.  At  first,  there 


CELEBRATED     AUTHORS.  695 

was  no  cause  for  uneasiness ;  but  in  the  progress  of  events,  when  a 
small  grew  into  a  great  concern,  we  could  not  divest  ourselves  of 
apprehensions  of  a  catastrophe. 

Such  was  our  skeleton !  Perhaps  we  were  no  worse  off  than  our 
neighbors,  but  that  is  always  a  poor  consolation.  We  might  possibly 
have  rid  ourselves  of  the  skeleton.  That,  however,  would  perhaps 
only  have  amounted  to  a  substitution  of  a  new  for  an  old  source  of 
distrust.  So  we  .were  fain  to  temporize,  and  to  make  the  best  of 
things  as  they  stood.  In  a  social  point  of  view,  we  were  on  excel- 
lent terms  with  the  personality  of  our  skeleton,  and  there  was  not  a 
little  pleasant  intercourse  among  us.  I  was  often  for  weeks  in  Lon- 
don ;  and  by  these  visits  an  acquaintanceship  was  kept  up  with  va- 
rious esteemed  contributors,  among  whom  we  had  great  pleasure  in 
numbering  Mrs.  S.  C.  Hall,  who  wrote  for  us  some  admirable  stories 
of  Irish  life,  and  through  whom  we  procured  a  juvenile  story  from 
the  venerable  Maria  Edgeworth. 

On  one  of  these  occasions  of  visiting  the  metropolis,  a  new  and 
unexpected  acquaintance  was  formed.  It  was  in  1844,  when  residing 
in  Greek  street,  Soho.  One  day,  about  noon,  a  carriage  drives  up  to 
the  door — not  a  vehicle  of  the  light,  modern  sort,  but  an  old  family 
coach,  drawn  by  a  pair  of  sleek  horses.  From  it  descends  an  aged 
gentleman,  who,  from  his  shovel  hat  and  black  gaiters,  is  seen  to  be 
an  ecclesiastical  dignitary.  I  overhear,  by  the  voices  at  the  door, 
that  I  am  asked  for.  "Who,  in  all  the  world,  can  this  be?"  A 
few  minutes  solve  the  question.  Heavy  footsteps  are  heard  deliber- 
ately ascending  the  antique  balustraded  stair.  My  unknown  visitor 
is  ushered  in — his  name  announced  :  "  The  Rev.  Sydney  Smith."  I 
hasten  to  receive  so  celebrated  a  personage  as  is  befitting,  and  ex- 
press the  pleasure  I  have  in  the  unexpected  visit — wondering  how  he 
had  discovered  me. 

"I  heard  at  Rogers's  you  were  in  town,"  said  he,  "and  was  re- 
solved to  call.  Let  us  sit  down  and  have  a  talk."  We  drew  towards 
the  fire,  for  the  day  was  cold,  and  he  continued  :  "  You  are  sur- 
prised possibly  at  my  visit.  There  is  nothing  at  all  strange  about  it. 
The  originator  of  the  Edinburgh  Review  has  come  to  see  the  origin- 
ator of  the  Edinburgh  Journal." 

I  felt  honored  by  the  remark,  and  delighted  beyond  measure  with 
the  good-natured  and  unceremonious  observations  which  my  visitor 
made  on  a  variety  of  subjects.  We  talked  of  Edinburgh,  and  I  asked 
him  where  he  had  lived.  He  said  it  was  in  Buccleuch  Place,  not 
far  from  Jeffrey,  with  an  outlook  behind  to  the  Meadows.  "Ah," 
he  remarked,  "  what  charming  walks  I  had  about  Arthur's  Seat,  with 
the  clear  mountain  air  blowing  in  one's  face  1  I  often  think  of  that 
glorious  scene."  I  alluded  to  the  cluster  of  young  men  —  Jeffrey, 
Homer,  Brougham,  himself,  and  one  or  two  others,  who  had  been 
concerned  in  commencing  the  Review  in  1802.  Of  these,  he  spoke 
with  most  affection  of  Homer,  and  specified  one  who,  from  his  van- 


696  ROBERT     AND     WILLIAM    CHAMBERS. 

ity  and  eccentricities,  could  not  be  trusted.  Great  secrecy,  he  said, 
had  to  be  employed  in  conducting  the  undertaking,  and  this  agrees 
with  what  Lord  Jeffrey  told  my  brother.  My  reverend  and  face- 
tious visitor  made  some  little  inquiry  about  my  own  early  efforts,  and 
he  laughed  when  I  reminded  him  of  a  saying  of  his  own  about  study- 
ing on  a  little  oatmeal — for  that  would  have  applied  literally  to  my 
brother  and  to  mys,elf.  "  Ah,  labora,  labora,"  he  said  sententiously, 
"  how  that  word  expresses  the  character  of  your  country!" 

"Well,  we  do  sometimes  work  pretty  hard,"  I  observed;  "but 
for  all  that,  we  can  relish  a  pleasantry  as  much  as  our  neighbors. 
You  must  have  seen  that  the  Scotch  have  a  considerable  fund  of 
humor. ' ' 

"O,  by  all  means,"  replied  the  visitor;  "you  are  an  immensely 
funny  people,  but  you  need  a  little  operating  upon  to  let  the  fun 
out.  I  know  no  instrument  so  effectual  for  the  purpose  as  the  cork- 
screw!" Mutual  laughter,  of  course. 

There  was  some  more  chat  of  this  kind,  and  we  parted.  This  in- 
terview led  to  a  few  days  of  agreeable  intercourse  with  Sydney  Smith. 
By  invitation,  I  went  next  morning  to  his  house  in  Green  street, 
Grosvenor  Square,  to  breakfast;  and  the  day  following,  went  with 
him  to  breakfast  with  a  select  party,  at  the  mansion  of  Samuel  Rog- 
ers, St.  James's,  when  there  ensued  a  stream  of  witticisms  and  re- 
partees for  pretty  nearly  a  couple  of  hours.  This  was  assuredly  the 
most  pleasant  conversational  treat  I  ever  experienced.  On  quitting 
London,  I  bade  good-by  to  Sydney  Smith  with  extreme  regret.  We 
never  met  again.  He  died  in  February  the  following  year. 

Years  pass  on ;  in  each  excursions  being  made  with  some  literary 
object  in  view.  While  residing  in  London,  in  1847,  I  was  honored 
with  the  acquaintance  of  Miss  Mitford,  whom  I  visited  by  invitation 
at  her  neat  little  cottage,  Three-mile  Cross,  near  Reading ;  the  pleas- 
antest  thing  about  the  visit  being  a  walk  with  the  aged  lady  among 
the  green  lanes  in  the  neighborhood — she  trotting  along  with  a  tall 
cane,  and  speaking  of  rural  scenes  and  circumstances.  I  see  by  the 
lately  published  life  of  Boner,  that  in  a  letter  to  him,  under  date 
December  16,  1847,  sne  refers  to  this  visit,  stating  that  she  was  at  the 
time  engaged  along  with  Mr.  Lovejoy,  a  bookseller  in  Reading,  in  a 
plan  for  establishing  lending  libraries  for  the  poor,  in  which,  she 
says,  I  assisted  her  with  information  and  advice.  What  I  really  ad- 
vised was  that,  following  out  a  scheme  adopted  in  East  Lothian,  par- 
ishes should  join  in  establishing  itinerating  libraries,  each  composed 
of  different  books,  so  that,  being  shifted  from  place  to  place,  a  degree 
of  novelty  might  be  maintained  for  mutual  advantage. 

In  1848,  I  visited  Germany,  mainly  to  look  into  educational  and 
penal  arrangements;  and  at  Berlin,  through  the  polite  attention  of 
Professor  Zumpf,  had  the  satisfaction  of  becoming  acquainted  with 
the  Prussian  compulsory  system  of  education,  which,  in  its  later  de- 


WILLIAM     IN     FRANCE.  697 

velopments,  has  had  so  startling  an  effect  on  the  affairs  of  continental 
Europe. 

I  had  visited  France  several  times:  to  see  the  extinct  volcanoes 
of  Auvergne,  and  the  Roman  remains  of  Provence ;  to  see  the  prison 
discipline  at  Roquette  and  Fontrevault,  and  the  juvenile  reformatory 
at  Mettray;  to  see  Voisin's  method  of  rousing  the  dormant  intellect 
of  imbecile  children  at  the  Bice'tre,  and  so  on.  I  again  visited  the 
country  in  1849  >  an<^  on  *h\s  occasion  remaining  longer  than  usual 
in  Paris,  and  seeing  more  of  the  social  life  of  the  people.  For  this, 
let  me  acknowledge  myself  indebted  to  the  Dowager  Countess  of 
Elgin  (a  Scottish  lady  of  the  Oswalds  of  Uunnikier),  who  found  me 
out  in  the  Boulevard  des  Italiens,  and  introduced  me  along  with 
my  wife  to  an  agreeable  literary  circle,  including  M.  Lamartine,  M. 
Mohl  and  Leon  Faucher.  Lamartine — tall,  thin,  and  unimpassioned — 
the  center  of  a  group  of  admirers,  listened  with  cold  complacency 
when  I  told  him  that  translation  of  his  "Voyage  en  Orient"  had 
been  eminently  popular  in  England.  Faucher  was  greatly  more  con- 
versible.  He  was  interested  in  hearing  about  our  system  of  poor- 
laws,  municipal  government,  and  other  topics  connected  with  social 
economy,  on  which  I  did  my  best  to  give  him  some  information. 

On  one  of  these  evenings,  I  was  introduced  to  a  young  French- 
man, son  of  a  noted  revolutionist,  during  the  Reign  of  Terror,  who 
had  afterwards  saved  his  life  by  hiding  himself,  and  changing  his 
name,  until  he  could  again  appear  publicly.  He  had  recently  died, 
and  his  whole  effects  were  about  to  be  sold,  in  order  that  the  prod- 
uce might  be  equally  divided  among  his  family.  The  articles  were 
said  to  be  curious ;  and  such  I  found  to  be  the  case,  on  going  by 
invitation  to  see  them  in  an  old  dignified  mansion,  near  the  Temple — 
the  most  curious  thing  of  all  being  the  identical  proclamation  which 
Robespierre  had  begun  to  write  at  the  Hotel  de  Ville,  when  his  as- 
sailants burst  in  upon  him,  and  he  was  shot  through  the  jaw.  He 
had  got  only  the  length  of  scrawling  the  words,  "Courage  mes  com- 
patriotes"  when,  being  struck,  the  pen  fell  from  his  hand,  and^big 
drops  of  blood  were  scattered  over  the  paper.  Bearing  these  marks 
of  discoloration,  how  strange  a  memorial  of  the  horrors  of  1794  ! 

I  was  much  delighted  with  the  simplicity  and  inexpensiveness  of 
the  evening  parties  at  the  house  of  the  countess,  which  was  situated 
in  the  neighborhood  of  the  Rue  de  Bac,  and  had  been  a  palace  of 
some  pretension  in  the  days  of  the  old  monarchy.  People  came  to 
see  and  converse  with  each  other — not  ceremoniously  to  eat  and 
drink,  and  go  away  in  a  state  of  discomfort.  The  few  weeks  I  spent 
in  Paris  on  this  occasion  were  among  the  most  delightful  in  my  whole 
existence. 

How  my  brother  and  I,  as  fancy  directed,  should  have  had  leisure 
to  spend  months  in  rambling  up  and  down  the  world,  is  worth  a 
little  explanation.  In  one  of  Robert's  essays  he  moralizes  on  the 
advantage  of  blending  with  pursuits  that  amount  of  leisure  which 


698  ROBERT    AND     WILLIAM     CHAMBERS. 

will  enable  us  to  cultivate  the  higher  class  of  feelings ;  for,  by  neg- 
lect on  this  score,  life  in  the  long-run  will  only  be  looked  back 
upon  as  a  disappointing  dream.  On  principles  of  this  kind,  we  en- 
deavored to  act,  but  could  have  obtained  no  success  in  the  attempt, 
by  following  the  too  common  practice  of  hurrying  into  one  project 
after  another,  irrespective  of  consequences.  At  the  outset,  we  laid 
down  three  rules,  which  were  inflexibly  maintained  :  Never  to  take 
credit,  but  pay  for  all  the  great  elements  of  trade  in  ready  money ; 
never  to  give  a  bill,  and  never  discount  one ;  and  never  to  undertake 
any  enterprise  for  which  means  were  not  prepared.  Obviously,  by  no 
other  plan  of  operations  could  we  have  been  freed  from  anxiety,  and 
at  liberty  to  make  use  of  the  leisure  at  our  disposal. 

No  anxiety  ? — yes,  there  was  some.  We  had  still  the  skeleton, 
which  had  so  grown  and  grown  in  dimensions  as  to  be  at  length  truly 
formidable.  About  1852  matters  became  critical.  It  was  as  clear 
as  could  be  that  we  were  to  incur  a  heavy  loss.  In  nothing  in  his 
whole  life  did  my  brother  manifest  more  vigor  of  character  than  in 
determining  to  get  rid,  at  all  hazards,  of  this  source  of  disquietude. 
He  thought  of  Scott  and  the  Ballantynes,  and  how,  by  an  extreme 
and  misplaced  confidence,  arising  from  kindness  of  heart,  a  man  may 
be  irretrievably  ruined.  Without  further  periphrasis  :  taking  all  risks, 
we  withdrew  our  agency  in  1853,  and  established  a  branch  business 
in  London  under  charge  of  our  youngest  brother,  David — the  Benja- 
min of  the  family — on  whose  fidelity  we  could  rely. 

Now  comes  a  startling  and  melancholy  fact,  from  which  it  would 
not  be  difficult  to  draw  a  moral.  The  concern  that  had  for  twenty- 
one  years  possessed  our  agency,  had  reaped  a  profit  from  it  of  not 
much  short  of  forty  thousand  pounds — a  sum  equal  to  about  eight 
times  what  Gibbon  received  for  his  "  Decline  and  Fall  of  the  Roman 
Empire,"  and  eighty  times  what  poor  Robert  Burns  ever  received  for 
all  his  world-famed  writings  !  All  was  gone,  and  a  vast  deal  more — 
vanished  into  empty  space.  A  fortune,  such  as  few  are  born  to,  had 
been  absolutely  thrown  away. 

The  whole  of  this  affair,  with  some  collateral  circumstances,  re- 
viewed over  a  course  of  years,  furnished  an  interesting  and  not  un- 
instructive  commercial  study.  In  London,  as  any  one  may  observe, 
there  are  two  prevailing  methods  of  ruination :  extravagance  in  living, 
and  trading  beyond  means  ;  substituting  sanguine  expectations,  along 
with  borrowed  money,  for  capital.  Such,  no  doubt,  are  errors  every- 
where, but  in  the  metropolis  they  revel  without  restraint,  almost 
without  rebuke.  And  from  the  glimpses  obtained,  I  regret  to  say, 
they  are  not  unknown  in  certain  sections  of  the  publishing  profession. 
In  whatever  department  of  trade,  so  frightful  is  the  hurry,  that  means 
are  not  suffered  to  accumulate  in  order  to  allow  of  ready-money 
payments.  The  whole  transactions  subside  into  a  system  of  bills — 
bills  to  wholesale  stationers,  bills  to  printers,  bills  to  artists,  bills  to 
writers,  bills  to  every  body.  In  the  same  wild  way,  bills  that 


THE     CURSE    OF     DISCOUNTS.  699 

are  received  are  hurried  off  for  discount.  There  is  great  seeming 
prosperity,  but  so  is  there  too  frequently  a  great  bill-book — dismal 
record  of  difficulties  and  heart-aches.  The  chief  difficulty  is  how  to 
effect  discounts.  Hours  are  perhaps  spent  daily  in  the  effort.  Com- 
mercially, there  is  a  struggle  between  life  and  death  every  four-and- 
twenty  hours.  Who  would  covet  existence  on  such  terms  ? 

The  banks,  somehow,  fail  to  monopolize  the  discount  trade.  They 
are  rivaled  by  private  capitalists,  who,  in  ordinary  slang,  are  known 
as  "parties."  There  is  always  a  "party" — some  mysterious  being 
who  lives  at  Bath,  or  Boulogne,  or  somewhere — to  whom,  through  a 
"  party  "  more  immediately  visible,  succor  is  looked  for  in  emergen- 
cies. The  "party"  dealt  with  is  sometimes  a  mighty  pleasant  and 
presentable  person — jolly,  good-natured  countenance;  punctilious  in 
dress;  abounding  in  anecdotes  about  the  drama  and  the  "  Derby;" 
well  read,  and,  avowing  a  high  opinion  of  Campbell  as  a  poet,  can 
give  with  proper  effect  quotations  from  the  "Pleasures  of  Hope." 
Meeting  him  at  a  ceremonious  family  dinner,  you  would  never,  from 
his  appearance  and  high-souled  chivalric  ideas,  take  him  for  a 
"  party,"  but  half  the  guests  know  that  he  possesses  that  imposing 
character  in  relation  to  the  unfortunate  host,  whom  he  could  any  day 
crumple  up  at  pleasure,  and  only  bides  his  time  to  do  so.  When 
Junius  made  the  famous  remark,  that  "  party  is  the  madness  of  many 
for  the  gain  of  a  few,"  he  spoke  the  truth  in  more  ways  than  one. 

Usually,  in  one  way  or  other,  the  money-lending  "party"  becomes 
the  final  beneficiary.  Should  the  advances  be  made  to  some  un- 
happy publishing  concern,  copyrights  are  assigned  in  security,  and 
seldom  do  they  return  to  their  original  owner.  Valuable  literary 
property,  the  fruit  of  ingenuous  conception  and  enterprise,  is  thus 
constantly  undergoing  a  process  of  transfer  and  confiscation.  We 
may  feel  shocked  with  the  tyranny  of  capital,  but  the  blame  is  due 
to  the  extravagant  credit  system,  along  with  an  insane  overhaste  to 
be  rich;  along,  also — for  we  must  not  forget  that — with  an  insane 
extravagance  in  living,  which  yields  comfort  to  neither  body  nor 
mind ;  this,  however,  is  a  circumstance  so  very  commonplace  as  to 
engage  little  or  no  attention. 

It  will  be  remembered  how  James  King,  our  early  friend  and  fellow- 
laborer  in  scientific  experiments,  had  emigrated  to  Australia,  in  order 
to  follow  out  an  industrial  career.  From  one  thing  to  another,  he 
became  proprietor  of  vineyards  at  Irawang,  New  South  Wales,  and 
there  devoted  himself  to  the  perfection  of  the  wine  manufacture  in 
the  colony.  In  this  pursuit  he  was,  by  his  chemical  knowledge,  per- 
severance, and  enterprise,  eminently  successful ;  but  what  avails  pro- 
fessional eminence  with  loss  of  health  ?  Returning  to  England,  he 
traveled  over  the  continent,  and  established  a  friendship  with  Baron 
Liebig,  who  furnished  valuable  suggestions  as  to  improving  the  quality 
and  aroma  of  his  wines.  Hints  of  this  kind,  however,  he  did  not 
live  to  profit  by.  I  found  him  in  London,  a  wreck — sad  contrast  to 


700  ROBERT    AND    WILLIAM    CHAMBERS. 

what  he  had  been  when  departing,  as  a  high-spirited  youth,  to  push 
his  fortune  abroad.  A  renewal  of  intercourse  was  scarcely  practicable, 
for  he  heard  and  spoke  only  with  difficulty.  He  died  in  London  in 
1857,  leaving  a  widow  and  son  to  conduct  his  affairs  in  the  colony. 

Amidst  literary  and  other  avocations,  my  brother  and  I  never  for- 
got Peebles.  We  visited  the  place — notably  so  in  1841,  to  be  com- 
plimented with  the  "  Freedom  of  the  Burgh  " — and  tried  to  keep  up 
an  acquaintance  with  old  friends,  ever  diminishing  in  number  till 
scarcely  one  of  them  was  left.  Remembering  the  benefits  we  had  re- 
ceived from  Elder's  library — long  since  extinct — in  1859,  I  gifted  to 
the  town  a  suite  of  buildings  consisting  of  a  library  of  ten  thousand 
volumes,  reading-room,  museum,  gallery  of  art,  and  lecture-hall,  with 
the  view  of  promoting  the  mental  improvement  of  the  humbler  classes ; 
but  whether  the  institution  so  organized  will  have  any  such  effect, 
seems,  after  an  experience  of  twelve  years,  exceedingly  doubtful.  So 
slight  has  been  the  success,  that  others  may  well  pause  before  ventur- 
ing on  a  similar  experiment.  Perhaps  the  only  other  incident  concern- 
ing myself  worthy  of  notice,  is  that  of  having  been  elected  Lord  Pro- 
vost of  Edinburgh  in  1865 — an  office  that  was  held  by  me  for  four 
years,  and  regarding  which  little  is  left  to  reflect  on  with  satisfaction, 
but  the  circumstance  of  having  projected  and  obtained  an  act  of  Par- 
liament for  the  sanitary  improvement  of  the  city. 

While  giving  some  attention  to  Chambers' s  Journal,  now  in  its 
forty-first  year,  it  may  be  permitted  me  to  mention  that  latterly  I 
was  able  to  add  a  few  books  to  the  list  already  mentioned  :  "  The 
Youth's  Companion  and  Counselor,"  1860;  "  Something  of  Italy," 
1862;  ''History  of  Peeblesshire,"  1864;  "Wintering  in  Mentone," 
1870;  and  "France:  its  History  and  Revolutions,"  1871. 

It  is  not  for  me  to  say  a  single  word  regarding  the  influence  which 
Chambers' s  Journal,  and  other  publications,  edited  by  my  brother  and 
myself,  may  have  exerted  in  the  cause  of  popular  enlightenment  dur- 
ing the  past  forty  years.  Of  that,  the  public  must  be  the  judge. 
Much  more  pleasing  is  it  to  think  that  the  mass  of  cheap  and  respect- 
ably conducted  periodical  literature,  which  sprung  intermediately  into 
existence  under  a  variety  of  conditions  and  auspices,  has  proved  one 
of  the  many  engines  of  social  improvement  in  the  nineteenth  century. 
Referring  to  the  example  of  patience  which  was  set  by  the  operatives 
of  Lancashire  under  the  agonizing  calamity  of  famine  which  unhap- 
pily visited  them,  a  minister  of  the  crown  did  not  hesitate  to  declare 
"that  to  the  information  contained  in  the  excellent  cheap  papers  of 
this  country  he  attributed  much  of  the  calm  forbearance  with  which 
the  distressed  had  borne  their  privations."*  This  unexpected 
acknowledgment  receives  significance  from  the  fact — which  history 
will  scarcely  fail  to  notice — that  the  state,  under  successive  ministries, 

*  Right  Hon.  Mr.  Milner  Gibson's  speech  at  Ashton-under-Lyne,  January  21, 
1863. 


ROBERT'S   CLOSING   YEARS.  701 

so  far  from  facilitating  the  diffusion  of  a  cheap  and  wholesome  litera- 
ture, unconsciously  did  all  in  its  power  for  its  repression,  by  means  of 
exorbitant  excise  duties  on  paper,  the  removal  of  which  was  effected 
only  after  a  long  and  costly  process  of  popular  agitation.  In  plain 
terms,  the  cheap  press,  in  its  early  and  struggling  stages,  owes  nothing 
to  the  state,  and  it  may  be  added,  little  to  the  learned  and  affluent. 
It  has  grown  up  by  the  force  of  circumstances,  not  by  any  special 
favor.  Looked  superciliously  on  throughout,  it  had  its  origin  in  the 
People,  and  from  the  People  alone  has  it  received  substantial  support 
and  encouragement. 

ROBERT'S  CLOSING  YEARS  AND  LITERARY  REMAINS. 

Change  of  air  and  scene  is*  said  to  work  wonders  on  the  overtasked 
brain.  It  did  so  to  a  certain  extent  on  Robert.  The  fresh  air  and 
tranquillity  of  St.  Andrews,  with  some  moderate  exercise  at  golf,  had 
a  beneficial  effect  on  his  health.  He  wished  for  peace,  and  here  it 
was,  enlivened  with  converse  in  the  society  of  old  friends.  He  had 
built  for  himself  a  house,  with  a  spacious  saloon-library,  entering 
from  which  was  a  small  apartment  fitted  up  as  a  study.  Environed 
by  his  books,  a  very  choice  collection,  he  was  now  enjoying  a  luxuri- 
ous and  "learned  leisure."  All  task-work  was  at  an  end.  Some- 
times he  came  for  a  few  days  to  Edinburgh;  and,  extending  his 
journey,  he  occasionally  visited  Mrs.  Priestley  in  London,  or  some 
other  of  his  married  daughters.  At  the  new  year,  as  long  as  he  was 
able,  he  made  an  excursion  across  the  Tay  to  Fingask  Castle,  in  the 
Carse  of  Gowrie,  to  pass  a  day  or  two  according  to  old  fashions  with 
his  friends,  the  Thrieplands. 

No  house,  to  look  at,  could  be  more  pleasant  than  that  which  he 
had  constructed  according  to  his  fancy  at  St.  Andrews.  In  it  he  con- 
stantly received  company,  and  was  always  the  same  kindly  and  enter- 
taining host.  But  apart  from  these  receptions,  his  establishment  was 
cheerless,  contrasted  with  former  days,  when  his  home  was  enlivened 
by  a  troop  of  merry-hearted  girls.  Possibly  it  was  from  a  sense  of 
comparative  solitude,  that  he  formed  a  second  matrimonial  alliance. 
He  married  (January,  1867)  the  widow  of  Robert  Frith,  a  lady  of 
musical  accomplishments,  and  of  that  liveliness  of  disposition  which 
was  calculated  to  soothe  his  declining  years. 

In  1868,  the  University  of  St.  Andrews  conferred  on  him  the  hon- 
orary degree  of  LL.  D.  He  was  after  that  known  as  "  the  Doctor," 
and  the  doctor's  dinner  and  evening  parties  had  something  in  them 
of  the  smack  of  old  times.  All  could  see  that  he  was  gradually 
declining  in  health  ;  but  then  he  never  failed  in  his  accustomed  cheer- 
fulness, his  love  of  music,  and  his  anecdotic,  though  now  slowly 
uttered  remarks. 

The  pen  was  now  taken  up  only  as  an  amusement ;  but  such  was 
the  pleasure  he  derived  from  writing,  that  he  felt  as  if  the  abandon- 


702  ROBERT    AND    WILLIAM     CHAMBERS. 

ment  of  literary  exercise  would  kill  him  outright.  Little  by  little,  he 
finished  a  book  that  he  had  long  been  employed  upon.  It  was  the 
"Life  of  Smollett,"  interspersed  with  characteristic  specimens  of 
his  writings.  This  was  a  sljght  work,  in  one  volume,  but  which  had 
the  recommendation  of  adding  something  to  the  personal  history  of 
Smollett  and  his  family,  and  presenting  a  curious  fragmentary  memoir, 
written  by  the  novelist's  grandfather,  Sir  James  Smollett,  a  stern  old 
Whig  Presbyterian,  knighted  by  William  III.  This  was  the  last  of 
my  brother's  printed  productions,  and  with  it  his  literary  career 
closes. 

No  one  can  live  at  St.  Andrews  without  taking  keenly  to  golf.  It 
is  the  staple  out-door  recreation  of  the  place.  The  links  over  which 
it  is  played  are  peculiarly  favorable  for  the  game,  because  the  ground 
is  beset  with  that  amount  of  difficulties  which  gives  a  piquancy  to 
the  sport.  There  are  nine  holes  in  the  links,  as  so  many  goals  to  be 
successively  reached  by  the  golfer  in  making  his  round.  These  holes 
formed  a  theme  for  a  series  of  half-comic,  half-moralizing  sonnets, 
which  were  intended  to  be  nine  in  number.  My  brother,  however, 
completed  only  the  following  three : 

THE  NINE  HOLES  OF  ST.  ANDREWS. 

IN  A  SERIES  OF  SONNETS. 

1.  The  Bridge  Hole. 

"  Sacred  to  hope  and  promise  is  the  spot — 

To  Philp's  and  to  the  Union  Parlor  near, 

To  every  golfer,  every  caddie  dear — 
Where  we  strike  off — O,  ne'er  to  be  forgot, 
Although  in  lands  most  distant  we  sojourn. 

But  not  without  its  perils  is  the  place ; 

Mark  the  opposing  caddie's  sly  grimace, 
Whispering, '  He's  on  the  road !'  '  He's  in  the  burn !' 

"  So  is  it  often  in  the  grander  game 

Of  life,  when,  eager,  hoping  for  the  palm, 

Breathing  of  honor,  joy,  and  love,  and  fame, 
Conscious  of  nothing  like  a  doubt  or  qualm, 

We  start,  and  cry  :  '  Salute  us,  muse  of  fire  !' 

And  the  first  footstep  lands  us  in  the  mire. 

2.  The  Cartgate  Hple. 

"  Fearful  to  Tyro  is  the  primal  stroke, 

O  Cartgate,  for  behold  the  bunker  opes 
Right  to  the  teeing  place  its  yawning  chops, 
Hope  to  engulf  ere  it  is  well  awoke. 

That  passed,  a  Scylla  in  the  form  of  rushes 
Nods  to  Charybdis  which  in  ruts  appears  : 
He  will  be  safe  who  in  the  middle  steers ; 

One  step  aside,  the  ball  destruction  brushes. 


ROBERT   S     LITERARY     REMAINS.  703 

"  Golf  symbols  thus  again  our  painful  life, 

Dangers  in  front,  and  pitfalls  on  each  hand : 
But  see,  one  glorious  cleek-stroke  from  the  sand 
Sends  Tyro  home,  and  saves  all  further  strife  ! 
He's  in  at  six — old  Sandy  views  the  lad, 
With  new  respect,  remarking, «  That's  no  bad !' 

3.   The  Third  Hole. 

"  No  rest  in  golf — still  perils  in  the  path : 

Here,  playing  a  good  ball,  perhaps  it  goes 
Gently  into  the  Principalian  Nose, 

Or  else  Tarn's  Coo,  which  equally  is  death. 

Perhaps  the  wind  will  catch  it  in  mid-air, 

And  take  it  to  the  Whins — '  Look  out,  look  out !' 
Tom  Morris,  be,  O  be  a  faithful  scout!' 

But  Tom,  though  links-eyed,  finds  't  not  anywhere. 

"  Such  thy  mishaps,  O  merit :  feeble  balls 

Meanwhile  roll  on,  and  lie  upon  the  green ; 
'Tis  well,  my  friends,  if  you,  when  this  befalls, 
Can  spare  yourselves  the  infamy  of  spleen. 
It  only  shows  the  ancient  proverb's  force, 
That  you  may  farther  gow  and  fare  the  worse." 

Those  who  were  unacquainted  with  his  private  habits  of  thought 
may  be  surprised  to  know  that,  chiefly  about  this  time,  he  wrote  a 
number  of  prayers,  and  graces  to  be  said  at  meals,  all  breathing  the 
purest  religious  spirit.  He  began  the  "Life  and  Preachings  of  Jesus 
Christ,  from  the  Evangelists."  It  was  a  work  apparently  designed 
for  the  edification  of  youth,  and  was  left  unfinished.  He  likewise 
began  a  catechism  for  the  young,  which  he  did  not  live  to  complete. 
The  reminiscences  of  his  early  life,  from  which  some  extracts  have 
been  given,  were  also  among  his  latest  compositions.  The  mass  of 
papers  which  he  accumulated,  and  left  as  literary  remains,  is  inde- 
scribable in  variety.  A  considerable  number  of  these  fragments  refer 
to  Scottish  Songs  and  Ballads,  for  which  he ,,  entertained  a  great 
affection ;  and  this  reminds  me,  that  with  some  trouble  he  collected, 
from  the  singing  of  old  persons  in  Liddesdale  and  elsewhere,  the  airs 
of  twelve  of  the  Border  Ballads,  and  had  them  printed  for  private 
circulation,  in  1844. 

One  of  the  more  bulky  papers  which  he  left  is  a  species  of  inquiry 
into  the  so-called  manifestations  of  spiritualism.  Without  pronouncing 
an  opinion  dogmatically,  he  considered  the  subject  worthy  of  patient 
investigation.  "The  phenomena  of  spiritualism,"  he  says,  "may  be 
the  confused  elements  of  a  new  chapter  of  human  nature,  which  will 
only  require  some  careful  investigation  to  form  a  respectable  addition 
to  our  stock  of  knowledge.  Such,  I  must  confess,  is  the  light  in 
which  it  has  presented  itself  to  me,  or  rather  the  aspect  which  it  pro- 
mises to  assume."  Acknowledging  so  much,  perhaps  he  thought  of 
a  saying  he  had  heard  used  by  Sir  Walter  Scott,  that,  "  If  there  be 


704  ROBERT    AND     WILLIAM     CHAMBERS. 

a  vulgar  credulity,  there  is  also  a  vulgar  incredulity."  In  his  anxiety 
for  fair-play,  he  perhaps  leant  to  the  side  of  credulity. 

Among  the  papers  amassed  by  my  brother,  some  old  and  some  new, 
we  have  the  evidence  of  a  mind  that  for  half  a  century  had  never 
been  free  from  some  kind  of  literary  assiduity.  His  casual  thoughts, 
things  he  heard  spoken  of,  anecdotes,  stories,  fragments  of  family 
history, — all,  sooner  or  later,  assumed  shape  in  sentences  and  para- 
graphs. He  never  forgot  any  thing.  His  memory,  from  a  faculty 
of  concentrativeness,  was  altogether  remarkable.  He  could  tell  you 
any  date  in  history ;  he  remembered  all  the  people  of  any  note  he 
had  conversed  with,  and  how  they  looked,  and  what  they  said,  if  it 
was  at  all  worth  remembering.  Every  place  he  had  visited  was  fresh 
in  his  recollection. 

With  a  memory  so  stored,  he  was  always  writing  down  odds  and 
ends,  as  if  assembling  materials  for  books,  which  years  would  have 
been  required  to  work  into  shape.  To  give  an  idea  of  these  memo- 
randa, I  select  the  following,  some  of  them  being  from  a  small  note- 
book with  dates : 

ANECDOTE   OF   HUGH  CHISHOLM. 

"Shortly  after  writing  the  'History  of  the  Rebellion,'  I  heard  an 
anecdote  of  two  Jacobites, — one  of  them,  Colquhoun  Grant,  who 
had  been  at  the  battle  of  Prestonpans,  and  there  having  mounted  the 
horse  of  an  English  officer,  whom  he  had  brought  down  with  his 
broadsword,  chased  for  miles  a  body  of  Cope's  recreant  dragoons ; 
the  other,  Hugh  Chisholm,  a  Highlander,  who  had  been  also  out  in 
the  '45,  and  lived  in  Edinburgh  for  a  considerable  period  between 
1780  and  1790.  Sir  Walter  Scott  saw  him  at  that  time,  and  says 
something  regarding  him  in  the  '  Tales  of  a  Grandfather. '  The  anec- 
dote is  this : 

"  '  Hugh  Chisholm,  who  had  been  associated  with  the  Prince  in 
his  wanderings,  was  ^supported  latterly  by  a  pension,  which  was  got 
up  for  him  by  some  gentlemen.  Lord  Monboddo  was  much  attached 
to  this  interesting  old  man,  and  once  proposed  to  introduce  him  to 
his  table  at  dinner,  along  with  some  friends  of  more  exalted  rank. 
On  his  mentioning  the  scheme  to  Mr.  Colquhoun  Grant,  one  of  the 
proposed  party,  that  gentleman  started  a  number  of  objections,  on 
the  score  that  poor  Chisholm  would  be  embarrassed  and  uncomfort- 
able in  a  scene  so  unusual  to  him,  while  some  others  would  feel  of- 
fended at  having  the  company  of  a  man  of  mean  rank  forced  upon 
them.  Monboddo  heard  all  Mr.  Grant's  objections,  and  then  as- 
suming a  lofty  tone,  exclaimed,  "  Let  me  remind  you,  Mr.  Grant, 
Hugh  Chisholm  has  been  in  better  company  than  either  yours  or 
mine  1"  The  conscience-struck  Jacobite  had  not  another  word  to  say. 

"  4  Chisholm  was  accordingly  brought  to  Monboddo's  table,  where 
he  behaved  with  all  the  native  politeness  of  a  Highlander,  and  gave 


CURIOUS    STORY    OF    A    FOUNDLING.  705 

satisfaction  to  all  present.  He  was  very  much  struck  with  the  ap- 
pearance of  Lord  Monboddo's  daughter,  Miss  Burnet — Burns's  Miss 
Burnet* — who  presided  over  the  feast.  He  seemed,  indeed,  com- 
pletely rapt  in  admiration  of  this  singularly  beautiful  woman,  inso- 
much that  he  seldom  took  his  eyes  off  her  the  whole  night.  One  of 
the  company  had  the  curiosity  to  ask  what  he  thought  of  her,  when 
he  burst  out  with  an  exclamation  in  Gaelic,  indicative  of  an  uncom- 
mon degree  of  admiration,  "  She  is  the  most  beautiful  living  creature 
I  ever  saw  in  all  my  life." 

STORY  OF  A   FOUNDLING. 

(Feb.  9,  1845.)  "Miss  Edmondstone,  a  lady  of  ninety,  relates  a 
curious  story  of  a  foundling.  About  eighty  years  ago,  Mr.  Gordon, 
of  Ardoch,  in  Aberdeenshire — a  tall  castle  situated  upon  a  rock  over- 
looking the  sea — was  one  stormy  night  alarmed  by  the  firing  of  a 
gun,  apparently  from  a  distressed  vessel.  Collecting  his  dependents, 
and  furnishing  himself  with  lights  and  ropes,  he  hurried  down  to  the 
beach,  amidst  the  peltings  of  one  of  the  severest  storms  he  had  any 
recollection  of.  On  arriving  there,  he  and  his  people  could  discern 
no  ship ;  they  saw  no  light ;  they  heard  no  cry.  But,  searching 
about,  they  found  an  infant  lying  in  a  kind  of  floating  crib  or  cra- 
dle, as  if  it  had  been  brought  ashore  from  a  perished  vessel  by  the 
force  of  the  winds  and  the  .waves.  The  young  stranger  was  removed 
to  the  castle,  and  taken  care  of;  and  in  the  morning  there  were  in- 
dubitable signs  of  a  shipwreck  on  the  beach,  but  no  other  person 
seemed  to  have  got  ashore. 

"  Mr.  Gordon,  unable  to  trace  the  history  of  the  infant  (i*  was  a 
female),  brought  her  up  with  his  own  daughters,  and  became  as  much 
attached  to  her  as  to  any  of  his  children.  The  foundling  received, 
in  all  respects,  the  same  treatment  and  the  same  education  as  the 
young  ladies  with  whom  she  was  associated,  and  in  time  she  grew  to 
woman's  estate.  About  that  time  a  similar  storm  occurred.  Mr. 
Gordon  hurried  as  usual  to  the  shore ;  but  this  time  was  so  happy  as 
to  receive  a  shipwrecked  party,  among  whom  was  a  gentleman  pas- 
senger. After  a  comfortable  night  spent  in  the  castle,  this  stranger 
was  next  morning  surprised  by  the  entrance  of  the  young  ladies, 
upon  one  of  whom  he  fixed  a  gaze  of  the  greatest  interest. 

"'Is  this  your  daughter  too?'  said  he  to  his  kind  host.  'No,' 
said  Mr.  Gordon;  'but  she  is  as  dear  to  me  as  if  she  were.'  And 
then  he  related  the  story  of  the  former  storm,  and  of  the  discovery 
of  the  infant  upon  the  beach.  At  the  conclusion,  the  stranger  said 
with  much  emotion  that  he  had  all  reason  to  belive  that  young  lady 
was  his  own  niece.  He  then  stated  the  circumstances  of  a  sister's 

*  Address  to  Edinburgh,  and  Eltgy  on  the  late  Miss  Burntt  of  Monboddo.  She 
died  of  consumption,  171(1  June,  1790. 

45 


;c6  ROBERT     AND     WILLIAM     CHAMBERS. 

return  from  India,  corresponding  to  the  time  of  the  shipwreck  ;  and 
explained  how  it  might  happen  that  Mr.  Gordon's  inquiries  for  the 
parents  of  the  child  had  failed.  '  She  is  now,'  he  said,  'an  orphan; 
but  her  father  has  left  her  the  bulk  of  his  fortune,  to  be  bestowed 
upon  her,  if  she  should  ever  be  found.' 

"All  these  things  being  fully  substantiated  by  the  stranger,  it  be- 
came necessary  that  the  young  lady  should  leave  Ardoch,  to  put  her- 
self under  the  care  of  a  new  protector ;  but  this  was  a  bitter  trial, 
and  she  could  at  last  be  reconciled  to  quit  Ardoch  only  on  the  con- 
dition that  one  of  her  friends,  the  daughters  of  Mr.  Gordon,  should 
accompany  her.  This  was  consented  to,  and  the  whole  party  soon 
vJeft  Scotland  to  proceed  to  Gottenburg,  in  Sweeden,  where  her  uncle 
carried  on  a  large  mercantile  concern. 

"  There  is  no  further  romance  in  the  tale  as  far  as  the  young  lady 
is  concerned  ;  for  fact  does  not  always  go  as  fiction  would.  But  a 
curious  circumstance  resulted,  nevertheless,  from  the  shipwreck.  Miss 
Gordon  was  wooed  and  won  at  Gottenburg  by  a  young  Scottish  mer- 
chant named  Erskine,  a  son  of  Erskine  of  Cambo  in  Fife,  a  youth  of 
narrow  fortunes,  and  seventeen  persons  between  him  and  the  title  and 
estates  of  the  Earl  of  Kelly.  The  seventeen  died,  and  this  young 
man  became  an  earl.  More  than  this,  a  sister  of  Miss  Gordon  was, 
through  the  same  connection  of  circumstances,  married  to  a  younger 
brother  of  the  former,  who  succeeded  to  this  title.  Thus,  through 
the  accident  of  the  shipwreck,  two  daughters  of  an  Aberbeenshire 
laird  became  Countesses  of  Kelly.  Unfortunately  neither  had  any 
children  ;  so  that  the  title  has  reverted  to  the  Earl  of  Mar,  the  re- 
presentative of  the  family  of  which  that  of  Kelly  was  a  branch." 
[Since*  the  preceding  was  written,  the  earldoms  of  Mar  and  Kelly  have 
been  disjoined,  in  consequence  of  the  Earl  of  Mar  and  Kelly  having 
died  without  issue,  1866,  when  the  earldom  of  Mar  passed  to  heirs- 
general,  and  the  earldom  of  Kelly  to  heirs-male.] 

VISIT   TO   MISS   PORTER. 

(July  4th.)  "  Accompanied  Mrs.  Hall  to  a  house  in  Kensington 
Square,  to  be  introduced  to  Miss  Porter.  Tall,  thin  old  lady,  reclin- 
ing on  a  sofa.  Weakly  health.  Above  seventy.  Kindly  Scottish 
manners.  We  talked  of  her  young  days  spent  in  Surgeon's  Square, 
Edinburgh.  Her  mother  occupied  part  of  the  long  house  on  the 
south  side  of  the  square,  the  west  half;  Lady  Henderson  the  other. 
Knew  the  Kerrs  of  Chatto  as  neighbors.  Miss  Porter,  when  a  little 
girl,  saw  one  day  a  thin,  elderly  gentleman,  in  a  light-colored  coat 
with  a  plaid,  in  the  square.  Went  up  to  him,  and  said  he  was  like 
her  grandpapa,  and  for  that  reason  asked  him  to  come  in.  He  fol- 
lowed her  into  the  house,  where  she  introduced  him  to  her  mother, 
as  being  so  like  grandpapa.  He  fell  into  conversation  about  the  army, 
led  to  it  by  seeing  the  sword  of  Miss  Porter's  father  over  the  fireplace. 


AUTHORESS    OF     "  S  C  O  T  T  I  S  H    C  H  I  E  F  S  .  f          707 

He  said  he  had  also  been  a  soldier ;  having  fallen  in  love  with  his 
mother's  waiting-maid,  he  had  taken  to  that  life  in  consequence  of  a 
quarrel  with  his  friends.  He  had  been  at  the  battle  of  Culloden,  and 
mention  of  this  seemed  greatly  to  affect  him.  By-and-by  he  went 
away*  It  should  be  mentioned  that  Miss  Porter,  on  taking  his  hand 
at  first,  had  observed  it  to  be  small,  thin,  and  blue-veined  like  a 
lady's.  A  few  days  after,  a  young  medical  student,  visiting  Mrs. 
Porter's,  mentioned  the  curious  circumstance  that  an  old  gentleman 
had  been  run  over  by  a  wagon  in  the  streets,  had  been  carried  to  the 
infirmary,  and  was  there  found  to  be  a  female.  It  was  afterwards 
learned  that  this  singular  person  was  the  sister  of  a  clergyman,  a  per- 
son of  good  connections,  who  had  a  slight  craze,  and  believed  him- 
self to  be  Jeanie  Cameron,  of  whom  an  untrue  scandal  had  been 
reported.  The  injured  female  died  in  the  infirmary. 

"Miss  Porter's  brother,  Robert,  when  a  mere  child,  had  been  taken 
to  drink  tea  with  some  of  the  rest  of  the  family  in  a  house  where 
they  met  Flora  Macdonald.  A  picture  attracted  his  attention,  and  he 
showed  a  curiosity  to  see  it  nearer.  Flora  put  him  upon  a  chair  to 
see  it,  told  him  it  was  the  battle  of  Preston,  and  gave  him  some  ex- 
planations about  it.  This,  he  used  to  acknowledge  afterwards,  was 
his  first  lesson  in  historical  painting. 

"  Lady  Anne  Barnard  told  Miss  Porter  that  she  had  written  '  Auld 
Robin  Gray,'  in  order  to  raise  a  little  money  for  the  succor  of  an  old 
nurse,  having  no  other  means.  She  had  heard  from  her  music  master, 
that  so  much  as  five  pounds  was  sometimes  got  for  a  successful  song, 
and  she  thought  she  would  try.  It  was  successful  in  the  object.  Lady 
Anne  wrote  much  poetry  besides,  which  is  preserved  by  one  of  her 
relations."  [The  Miss  Porter  above  referred  to  was  Jane,  authoress 
of  "Thaddeus  of  Warsaw "  and  the  "Scottish  Chiefs."  She  died 
1850.] 

PLAYFULNESS    OF   ANIMALS. 

(July  2zd.)  "  It  is  well  known  that  lambs  hold  regular  sports  apart 
from  their  dams,  which  only  look  on  at  a  little  distance  to  watch  and 
perhaps  enjoy  the  happiness  of  their  offspring.  Monkeys  act  in  the 
same  manner.  Mr.  Leigh  Hunt,  with  whom  I  supped  this  evening, 
told  me  that  he  had  observed  a  young  spider  sporting  about  its  parent, 
running  up  to  and  away  from  it  in  a  playful  manner.  He  has  likewise 
watched  a  kitten  amusing  itself  by  running  along  past  its  mother,  to 
whom  she  always  gave  a  little  pat  on  the  cheek  as  she  passed.  The 
older  cat  endured  this  tranquilly  for  awhile;  but  at  length,  becoming 
irritated  by  it,  she  took  an  opportunity  to  hit  her  offspring  a  blow  on 
the  side  of  the  head,  which  sent  the  little  creature  spinning  to  the 
other  side  of  the  room,  where  she  looked  extremely  puzzled  at  what 
had  happened.  An  irritated  human  being  would  have  acted  in  precisely 
the  same  manner." 


708  ROBERT    AND     WILLIAM     CHAMBERS. 


ADAPTIVENESS. 

(July  27th.)  "  There  is  a  quality  of  human  nature  which  may  be 
called  adaptiveness.  Some  persons  readily  adapt  themselves  to  any 
new  society  into  which  they  may  be  thrown  ;  others  not.  When  a 
man  rises  in  the  world,  it  is  often  found  that  his  wife  does  not,  can 
not  rise  with  him.  Sometimes  this  does  not  proceed  solely  from  want 
of  the  intellect  and  taste  requisite  for  the  purpose,  but  from  a  kind  of 
willfulness.  Not  feeling  that  new  acquaintances  attribute  any  peculiar 
merit  to  her,  or  pay  her  any  particular  attention,  she  affects  to  hold 
lightly  the  marks  of  approbation  bestowed  upon  her  husband,  and 
takes  a  kind  of  pleasure  in  not  favoring  his  advance.  In  some  cases, 
the  mere  sense  of  awkwardness  under  the  new  circumstances  may 
operate  to  the  same  effect.  Women  ought  to  consider  it  as  a  duty  to 
adapt  themselves,  as  far  as  they  may,  to  their  changed  condition.  A 
regard  for  the  happiness  of  the  husband  and  family  demands  it." 

IGNORANCE   OF   NATURAL  HISTORY. 

"At  the  meeting  of  the  British  Association  at  Cambridge  (June, 
1845),  Mr.  Goadby,  who  had  his  beautiful  anatomical  preparations  of 
the  lower  animals  exhibited  at  the  model-room,  was  greatly  struck  by 
the  appearance  of  ignorance  in  the  gownsmen,  as  shown  in  the  remarks 
which  they  made  and  the  questions  they  asked.  One,  who  had  a  lady 
on  his  arm,  told  his  fair  companion  that  these  were  models.  Another 
similarly  attended,  apparently  wishing  to  avoid  troublesome  questions, 
said  to  her  very  oracularly,  '  O,  this  is  all  anatomy. '  A  third  collegian 
inquired  who  made  those  things.  '  The  glasses  do  you  mean  ?'  inquired 
Mr.  Goadby.  'No;  the  things  in  the  glasses.'  'The  same  that 
made  you,"  was  the  reply.  Several  men,  better  informed,  spoke  of 
the  objects  comprehensively  as  insects,  though  only  -a  portion  of  them 
were  of  that  class  in  the  animal  kingdom.  None  of  these  men  had 
ever  heard  of  such  a  thing  as  a  mollusk  or  an  echinoderm.  Altogether, 
Mr.  G.  thinks  he  never  before  showed  his  preparations  to  a  more  ig- 
norant set  of  visitors  than  the  gownsmen  of  Cambridge. 

"As  an  illustration  of  the  benefit  that  might  be  derived  from  the 
introduction  of  natural  history  into  schools,  Mr.  Goadby  was  once 
lecturing  on  his  preparations  at  Cheltenham,  when  he  had,  among  his 

other  auditors,  Lord  M ,  of  the  Irish  peerage.  Lord  M is  a 

middle-aged  man,  congenitally  lame,  insomuch  that  he  is  dependent 
on  others  for  locomotion.  Possessing  an  active  mind,  and  forbidden 
to  take  the  amusements  of  other  men  of  his  order, ^he  has  given  his 
mind  a  good  deal  up  to  study,  but  not  wholly,  for  the  gaming-table 
had  unfortunately  asserted  a  strong  claim  over  him,  and  he  had  thus 
lost  the  whole  of  his  patrimonial  property,  reserving  only  a  diminished 
income  from  some  estates  of  his  wife.  This  clever  nobleman,  whom 


HOW    MEN    ARE     ESTIMATED.  709 

every  body  loved  for  his  amiable  dispositions,  seemed  exceedingly 
interested  in  the  lecture,  and  after  it  was  over,  he  lingered  an  hour, 
inspecting  and  inquiring  into  the  peculiarities  of  the  animals  which 
formed  the  subject  of  it.  At  last,  he  burst  out :  '  If  I  had  been 
taught  such  things  in  my  youth,  what  it  would  have  been  for  me!' 
implying  that  the  having  such  an  amusement  for  his  leisure  would 
have  saved  him  from  those  wretched  pursuits  in  which  he  had  sought 
excitement,  and  which  had  proved  his  ruin." 

SHYNESS  AND  MODESTY. 

"Shyness  is  a  curious  peculiarity  of  some  men,  and  the  explana- 
tion of  much  that  is  dubious  and  obscure  in  their  behavior.  It  often 
happens  that  a  man  gets  the  reputation  of  being  haughty  or  unsocial, 
when  he  is  only  shy.  An  unconquerable  bashfulness  oppresses  him. 
When  such  a  man  is  drawn  into  company,  participating  in  the  excite- 
ment of  the  hour,  and  having  got  over  all  the  difficulties  of  the  first 
address,  he  generally  comes  out ;  often  we  find  him  talkative  and 
entertaining,  so  that  strangers  go  away,  saying,  'Well,  there  is  one 
of  the  pleasantest  men  I  have  met  with.'  Strange  it  is  to  meet  the 
same  man  next  day,  and  find  him  make  an  effort  to  avoid  you.  Lord 

M ,  a  person  of  this  kind,  always  walks  along  the  inner  side  of  the 

pavement,  with  eyes  bent  on  the  ground,  as  if  anxious  to  escape 
observing  or  being  observed.  The  J.  G.  (Boyle),  who  is  associated 
with  him  on  duty  every  day  for  one  half  the  year,  has  actually  known 

Lord  M to  cross  to  another  side  of  the  road  on  approaching  him, 

and  endeavor  to  escape  his  notice  by  pretending  to  take  an  interest 
in  something  on  the  other  side  of  the  hedge.  Men,  on  the  other 
hand,  who  get  the  reputation  of  being  forward,  are  often  merely  men 
of  strong  animal  spirits,  these  rendering  them  frank  and  bold  in 
society,  where,  from  their  comparative  rank,  they  are  expected  to  be 
quiet  and  respectful. 

"  In  some  cases,  shyness  may  arise  from  modesty,  an  unwilling- 
ness to  intrude.  Be  this  as  it  may,  it  is  well  to  bear  in  mind  that 
the  world  generally  takes  men  at  their  own  apparent  estimate  of 
themselves.  Hence  modest  men  never  do  attain  the  same  considera- 
tion which  bustling,  forward  men  do.  It  has  not  time  or  patience 
to  inquire  rigidly,  and  it  is  partly  imposed  upon  and  carried  away 
by  the  man  who  vigorously  claims  its  regards.  The  world  also  never 
has  two  leading  ideas  about  any  man.  There  is  always  a  remarkable 
unity  in  its  conceptions  of  the  characters  of  individuals.  If  a  his- 
torical person  has  been  cruel  in  a  single  degree,  he  is  set  down  as 
cruel  and  nothing  else,  although  he  may  have  had  many  good 
qualities,  all  but  equally  conspicuous.  If  a  literary  man  is  industrious 
in  a  remarkable  degree,  the  world  speaks  of  him  as  only  industrious, 
though  he  may  also  be  very  ingenious." 


710  ROBERT     AND     WILLIAM     CHAMBERS. 


LACTATION. 

"  Can  lactation  have  any  affect  in  determining  the  moral  character 
of  infants?  A  friend  of  mine  has  a  son  who,  on  account  of  the 
death  of  his  mother  immediately  after  his  birth,  was  given  out  to  be 
nursed  by  a  woman  in  humble  life.  This  woman  was  afterwards 
found  to  be  very  worthless.  The  boy,  who  is  now  in  his  sixteenth 
year,  has  already  been  a  source  of  great  distress  to  his  father,  in  con- 
sequence of  strong  traits  of  character  destitute  of  probity.  He  can 
not  be  corrected  by  any  kind  of  discipline  out  of  a  propensity  to 
dissimulation.  The  strange  thing  about  him  is,  that  no  sooner  does 
he  commit  some  gross  offense  than  he  expresses  regret  for  what  he 
has  done,  promises  never  to  do  the  like  again,  and  then  all  at  once 
commits  some  fresh  mischief,  to  be  in  turn  repented  of.  As  a  last 
resource,  he  was  sent  to  a  school  at  Brussels ;  but  he  ran  away  from 
it  in  disgraceful  circumstances,  came  to  London,  and  entered  the 
army  as  a  private  soldier.  This,  as  usual,  he  said  he  was  sorry  for, 
and  wished  to  be  bought  off.  His  father,  however,  said  he  would 
only  do  so  on  his  rising,  by  good  conduct,  to  be  a  corporal.  So  he 
went  with  his  regiment  to  India."  [There,  as  was  afterwards  learned, 
he  died.]  "  My  friend,  the  father  of  this  unhappy  youth,  imputes 
his  moral  imperfections  to  lactation.  He  was,  he  thinks,  vitiated  by 
the  milk  of  his  nurse.  And  he  says  he  is  warranted  in  this  notion 
by  having  heard  of  other  instances  of  vitiation  of  character  by  simi- 
lar means.  It  is  worthy  of  remark  that  the  boy  was  with  his  nurse 
only  during  the  time  of  lactation. 

"  It  does  not  seem  unlikely  that  a  child  born  of  virtuous  par- 
ents, and  partaking  of  their  organization,  may  partake  of  a  corrupt 
element  from  a  milk-nurse.  The  constitution  of  the  new  being  in 
our  species  is  not  completed  at  birth,  as  it  is  in  some  of  the  lower 
animals.  The  lactation  is  a  portion  of  the  process  of  reproduction. 
That  portion  being  conducted  by  a  distinct  parent  of  inferior  moral 
character,  may  be  the  means  of  introducing  a  depravity  where,  origi- 
nally, all  was  morally  fair.  In  other  words,  we  might  say  that  at 
birth  a  child  is  not  thoroughly  quit  of  its  mother.  Nature  designs 
the  connection  to  subsist  until  the  period  of  milk-nursing  is  past. 

"  In  the  '  Coltness  Collections,'  is  a  passage  expressing  the  senti- 
ments of  the  wife  of  Sir  James  Stewart,  of  Coltness,  who  was  Lord 
Provost  of  Edinburgh  in  1650.  She  strictly  declined  the  offer  of 
her  husband  to  have  her  children  sent  out  to  hired  wet-nurses,  saying, 
*  she  should  never  think  her  child  wholly  her  own,  when  another  dis- 
charged the  most  part  of  a  mother's  duty,  and  by  wrong  nourishment 
to  her  tender  babe  might  induce  wrong  habits  or  noxious  diseases.' 
She  added  :  '  I  have  often  seen  children  take  more  a  strain  of  their 
nurse  than  their  mother.'  " 


DUTIES     TO     OURSELVES      AND      OTHERS.  711 

From  desultory  thoughts  on  secular  subjects  my  brother  seems  to 
have  latterly  turned  to  literary  exercises  of  a  religious  nature.  It  is 
impossible  to  say,  definitely,  on  what  he  was  for  the  last  time  occu- 
pied. I  am  inclined,  however,  to  think  that  it  was  the  catechism 
for  the  young,  left  unfinished.  As  throwing  some  light  on  his  views 
regarding  man's  destiny,  the  following  passages  may  appropriately  con- 
clude the  present  chapter.  After  a  series  of  questions  and  answers 
regarding  the  Divine  Government  of  the  world,  he  comes  to  some 
of  the  duties  imposed  on  human  beings. 

"  Ques.  Have  you  any  special  rules  to  assign  for  the  guidance  of 
men  in  this  world  ? 

"  Ans.  Yes;  some  rules  may  be  set  down  which  will  form  a  guid- 
ance in  the  common  run  of  circumstances. 

"  Q.  How  do  you  describe  them? 

"  A.  They  may  be  wholly  described  as  duties, — that  is,  observ- 
ances and  doings  which  we  owe  to  our  fellow-creatures. 

"  Q.  Have  we  not  also  duties  towards  ourselves? 

"  A.  Some  duties  are  so  called ;  but  a  duty  is  properly  something 
owed,  and  in  owing,  another  person  is  necessarily  concerned.  It 
can  easily  be  shown,  of  all  duties  said  to  be  owing  to  ourselves,  that 
they  are,  more  comprehensively,  duties  owing  to  society. 

"  Q.  Will  you  first  describe  that  class  of  duties? 

"  A.  A  man  is  required  to  cultivate  a  sense  of  dependence  on, 
and  responsibility  to,  God,  the  author  and  ruler  of  his  being,  the 
arbiter  of  his  final  destiny,  because  it  is  good  for  his  spiritual  nature 
to  do  so,  and  the  better  he  is  in  this  respect  it  is  the  better  for 
society.  He  ought  to  study  to  preserve  his  self-respect,  because  with- 
out that  he  can  bear  little  value  towards  his  fellow-creatures.  He  is 
called  on  to  cultivate  the  means  of  preserving  his  health,  because,  in 
sickness  and  infirmity,  he  is  an  encumbrance  instead  of  a  benefit  to 
society.  It  is  incumbent  on  him  to  practice  diligence  in  his  calling, 
and  prudence  in  his  household,  because  without  these  qualities  in 
individuals  society  would  be  scarcely  able  to  exist. 

"  Q.  Do  men  not  sometimes  malice  mistakes  as  to  what  seems  their 
duty? 

"A.  Yes;  men  sometimes  entertain  feelings  of  ambition,  under  a 
pretext  of  duty  to  themselves,  with  little  or  no  regard  to  the  good  of 
the  community.  Such  feelings,  being  only  selfish,  are  detestable. 
On  the  other  hand,  to  obtain  wealth  and  power  by  fair  means,  ami 
employ  them  generally  towards  others,  is  not  merely  justifiable,  but 
laudable.  The  unfailing  criterion  in  all  such  personal  matters  is,  how 
do  they  affect  our  neighbors?  If  well,  then  we  are  doing  right ;  if 
ill,  then  we  are  doing  wrong.  Where  we  only  seek  to  make  our- 
selves as  good,  wise,  useful,  as  possible,  we  are  certainly  fulfilling  the 
ends  of  God  in  society,  and  may  claim  approval  of  God  and  man. 


712  ROBERT    AND    WILLIAM     CHAMBERS. 

"  Q.  Please  now  to  describe  the  duties  where  a  more  direct  refer- 
ence is  made  to  others. 

"  A.  They  are  partly  negative  and  partly  positive.  We  are  called 
on  to  abstain  from  injuring  our  neighbor,  in  his  property,  his  health 
and  life,  his  feelings,  his  g^od  name,  his  rights  of  all  kinds,  and 
rather  to  promote  his  good  in  these  respects.  One  most  important 
duty  is  to  practice  upon  him  no  deception  by  word  or  deed.  Another, 
is  to  respect  his  right  of  forming  his  own  opinions,  without  which  he 
is  marred  in  the  exercise  of  that  final  judgment  on  right  and  wrong 
which  hasten  set  forth  as  the  Divine  voice  speaking  within  him. 
We  must  also  respect  his  right  of  employing  his  faculties  in  the  way 
that  seemeth  to  him  best,  consistently  with  the  good  of  his  fellow- 
creatures. 

"  Q.  Does  this  view  of  duties  apply  also  in  the  affairs  of  state? 

"  A.  Undoubtedly.  In  political  procedure,  truth,  rectitude,  for- 
bearance, and  respect  for  rights  are  as  much  required  as  in  ordinary 
society.  And  as  no  man  can  neglect  or  violate  the  simplest  laws 
which  bind  him  to  his  neighbor,  without  creating  some  degree  of  suf- 
fering, which  is  liable  to  react  against  himself,  so  it  is  certain  that 
those  in  authority  can  not  use  it  recklessly  or  oppressively  without 
producing  an  unhappiness  which  will  turn  round  to  their  own  annoy- 
ance, injury,  or  destruction.  There  is,  in  short,  but  one  rule  of  duty 
in  the  world,  and  that  is  summed  in  'Love  your  Neighbor.'  .  . 
The  errors  and  delusions  of-  mankind  are  unfortunately  endless ;  and 
they  are  to  be  deplored,  not  only  as  occupying  much  time  and  thought 
uselessly,  but  as  obscuring  our  ideas  as  to  what  is  of  real  importance 
for  the  fulfillment  of  the  Divine  purposes  of  our  being." 

Tffese  may  be  considered  to  be  among  the  last  sentiments  written 
by  my  brother. 

HIS  LAST  DAYS,   DEATH,   AND  CHARACTER. 

The  year  1870  opened  gloomily  in  that  pleasant-looking  house  at 
'St.  Andrews.  After  a  short  illness,  and  very  unexpectedly,  my 
brother's  second  wife  died  on  the  i8th  January.  Now  was  he  again 
in  a  sense  desolate.  Yet  though  afflicted  with  this  fresh  calamity,  and 
broken  down  in  health,  he  did  not  repine.  His  bereavements  only 
tended  the  more  to  bring  out  his  true  character.  In  him  were  now 
seen  united  the  piety  of  the  Christian  with  the  philosophy  of  an 
ancient  sage  "I  know,"  he  said,  "that  my  days  are  numbered. 
My  time  can  not  be  long.  I  feel  the  gradual  but  sure  indication  of 
approaching  dissolution.  But  don't  let  us  be  dismal  about  it;  that 
would  be  alike  futile  and  sinful.  "  And  so  he  spoke  as  one  reconciled 
to  his  appointed  destiny.  Setting  his  affairs  in  order,  he  looked 
calmly  on  the  advances  of  the  destoyer.  He  had  done  his  work,  and 
we  may  be  permitted  to  think  that  he  had  done  it  nobly. 


APPROACHING     DISOLUTION.  713 

Pale  and  feeble,  he  crept  about,  took  short  drives,  and  received 
visitors  as  usual:  for  bodily  weakness  did  not  in  the  least  affect  his 
spirits.  With  one  of  his  married  daughters,  Mrs.  Dowie,  who  had 
come  to  visit  him,  he  walked  to  the  Cathedral  Burial-ground,  and 
pointed  out  the  spot  where  he  wished  to  be  interred.  It  was  the  inte- 
rior of  the  old  Church  of  St.  Regulus.  "There, "  said  he,  "I  hope 
to  have  the  honor  of  finding  a  resting-place ;  I  should  certainly  be  in 
excellent  company,  for  Mr.  Lyon,  the  historian  of  St.  Andrews,  told 
me  there  is  a  surprising  number  of  bishops  interred  here."  The  de- 
sire to  be  buried  in  this  place  of  historical  note  was  what  might  have 
been  looked  for.  The  Church  of  St.  Regulus  is  one  of  the  most  ancient 
ecclesiastical  structures  in  Scotland.  It  dates  from  the  twelfth  century, 
and,  as  seen  by  its  tall,  square  tower,  is  built  in  the  Romanesque  style. 
When  the  cathedral,  a  more  modern  and  ornamental  structure,  was 
laid  in  ruin  by  a  mob  at  the  Reformation,  this  adjacent  antique  church 
was  so  far  spared,  that  till  this  day  it  remains  all,  except  the  roof,  in  a 
state  of  good  preservation.  Carefully  secured  as  crown  property,  it 
can  not  be  called  a  part  of  the  general  cemetery ;  and  interment  within 
it  requires  the  sanction  of  the  chief  commissioner  of  Her  Majesty's 
Board  of  Works. 

Being  recommended  change  of  scene,  my  brother  accompanied  Mrs. 
Dowie  to  her  home  at  West  Kirby,  near  Birkenhead ;  and  thereafter, 
in  April,  went  with  her  by  way  of  Gloucester,  to  Torquay,  where  for 
a  time  he  took  up  his  abode.  Here  he  felt  a  slight  improvement  of 
health,  and  was  able,  not  only  to  attend  and  fully  enjoy  an  interesting 
lecture  by  Mr.  Pengelly  on  the  discoveries  in  Kent's  Cavern,  but  to 
visit  the  cave,  and  make  remarks  on  the  objects  of  natural  history 
that  had  recently  been  brought  to  light.  Before  returning  home,  he 
once  more  visited  Mrs.  Priestley  in  London,  and  also  his  surviving 
sister,  Mrs.  Wills,  at  Sherrards,  in  Hertfordshire,  where  he  greatly  en- 
joyed the  beauty  of  a  quiet  rural  scene.  Brightened  up  a  little  by  these 
visits  among  relatives,  he  returned  to  Scotland,  in  the  company  of  his 
youngest  daughter,  who  describes  the  fervency  of  his  emotion  in  cross- 
ing the  Border  and  finding  himself  again  in  his  native  country.  He 
got  back  to  St.  Andrews  in  June. 

From  this  time,  he  did  not  leave  home,  where,  to  keep  him  company, 
he  was  visifed,  one  after  the  other,  by  several  of  his  daughters.  I 
went  to  see  him  in  August,  and  found  him  in  a  frail  condition,  though 
able  to  converse  on  literary  and  other  topics.  His  most  conspicuous 
ailment  was  want  of  appetite,  along  with  a  deadly  paleness  of  coun- 
tenance. So  greatly  was  his  system  disorganized,  that  on  sitting  down 
to  table,  he  could  not  eat.  Nothing  that  he  was  solicited  to  take  did 
him  any  good,  farther  than  keeping  up  the  spark  of  life.  Still,  in  a 
way  he  joked  and  told  stories,  felt  an  interest  in  the  stirring  news  con- 
cerning France,  and  continued  to  take  delight  in  music. 

Towards  the  conclusion  of  autumn,  a  change  for  the  worse  took 
place,  and  his  mind  was  visibly  weakened.  Then  came  winter  in  more 


714  ROBERT    AND     WILLIAM    CHAMBERS. 

than  ordinary  severity,  with  its  deadly  effects  on  the  aged  and  invalid. 
Shortly  after  the  beginning  of  1871,  he  could  no  longer  sit  up,  and 
for  his  accommodation,  his  study,  adjoining  the  library,  had  been  for 
some  time  fitted  up  as  a  bedroom.  Here  I  found  him  in  bed  on  the 
27th  January.  He  said  he  preferred  to  be  in  this  apartment,  for  it  was 
on  a  level  with  the  sitting  rooms,  whence  he  could  hear  something 
of  the  lively  conversation  of  his  daughters,  and  where  they  could 
conveniently  see  him.  A  piano  was  placed  in  the  library  for  his 
sblacement. 

Constantly  attended  by  Dr.  Oswald  Bell,  and  by  great  care  in  nurs- 
ing, he  got  through  the  winter.  His  married  daughters  now  left  him, 
not  anticipating  any  immediate  change.  Day  by  day,  however,  he 
lost  strength,  and  Mrs.  Dowie  was  recalled.  On  her  appearance,  he 
said  he  was  glad  that  she  had  come  back  to  see  the  last  of  him.  On 
Sunday,  12th  March,  he  was  able  to  listen  to  and  heartily  appreciate 
his  favorite  prayers  and  psalms  in  the  Morning  Service,  ejaculating 
from  time  to  time:  "  How  true,  how  beautiful.  " 

In  a  note  to  me,  Mrs.  Dowie  gives  a  simple  and  touching  account  of 
the  closing  scene : 

"On  Wednesday,  the  isth,  he  described  himself  as  'quite  word- 
less,' and  just  pressing  our  hands,  returned  our  embraces  with  fervor. 
He  begged  for  some  music,  and  was  much  gratified  on  my  playing  to 
him  '  Macpherson's  Farewell,'  an  air  he  greatly  admired,  and  which 
in  former  years  he  used  to  play  himself  on  the  piano,  with  my  ac- 
companiment. Next  day,  he  seemed  very  torpid,  and  scarcely  spoke 
to  us,  more  than  answering  questions.  Early  in  the  following  morning, 
life  was  fleeting  away.  His  last  faintly  uttered  words  were:  'Quite 
comfortable  —  quite  happy — nothing  more  ! '  And  so,  with  us  sitting 
in  silent  tears  beside  him,  at  about  five  o'clock  on  Friday  morning, 
the  1 7th  March,  he  gently  breathed  his  last.  " 

At  this  mournful  juncture,  I  had  gone  to  London  on  account  of  the 
illness  of  my  youngest  brother,  David,  whose  health  had  for  some  time 
been  in  a  critical  condition — partly  the  result  of  a  /all  from  an 
omnibus,  which  left  injurious  effects  on  the  system,  and  partly  from 
distress  at  the  death  of  his  wife.  He  was  now  confined  to  bed,  and 
in  so  delicate  a  state  that  intelligence  of  the  death  of  Robert  brought 
on  a  paroxysm,  which  terminated  in  his  decease  on  the  2ist  March. 
Of  the  last  painful  scene  I  could  not  be  a  witness,  for  I  was  required 
at  St.  Andrews  to  assist  at  the  funeral  of  my  brother  Robert. 

This  solemnity  took  place  on  the  22d  ;  and  to  meet  the  wishes  of 
many  who  expressed  a  wish  to  be  present,  the  arrangements  were 
more  of  a  public  character  than  had  at  first  been  intended.  Service 
was  performed  over  the  body  in  the  Episcopal  chapel,  by  the  incum- 
bent, the  Rev.  L.  Tuttiett ;  after  which  the  procession  of  friends  and 
relatives  proceeded  to  the  Church  of  St.  Regulus,  in  the  Cathedral 
Burying-ground,  for  interment,  in  which  permission  had  been  oblig- 
ingly granted.  On  approaching  the  cemetery,  the  funeral  procession 


THE  OPINION  OF  ROBERT  S  PASTOR.       715 

was  met  by  the  provost  and  magistrates  of  St.  Andrews,  also  by 
members  of  the  Senatus  Academicus,  with  their  official  insignia. 
Surrounded  by  a  large  and  sympathizing  crowd,  and  with  the  last 
offices  of  the  Church,  the  body  of  Robert  Chambers  was  lowered  into 
the  grave,  where  it  reposes  amidst  the  dust  of  ecclesiastics  whose  names 
are  now  only  known  by  the  records  of  history.* 

In  his  sermon  on  Sunday,  26th,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Tuttiett  made  some 
remarks  on  the  deceased.  A  few  passages  may  be  quoted  : 

"  A  little  more  than  a  year  ago,  when  first  I  came  to  minister  in 
this  church,  there  sat  before  me  one  to  whom  I  could  not  but  turn 
with  especial  interest  at  that  time.  He  was,  I  knew,  a  man  dear  to 
many  of  his  fellow-worshipers,  dear  to  the  place  in  which  he  lived, 
dear  to  his  country,  and  to  many  far  away.  He  was  a  man  of  high 
endowments,  great  and  varied  knowledge,  deep  philosophy,  sound 
judgment,  and  refined  taste.  He  was  also,  what  is  far  better  than  all 
this,  a  man  of  upright  and  unostentatiously  religious  life  ;  noble  and 
kind  in  his  nature,  gentle  and  modest  in  his  manner,  genial  and  warm 
in  his  sympathies,  faithful  in  his  friendships,  and  generous  in  his  deal- 
ings. He  had  come  from  his  recently  bereaved  home  to  seek  comfort 
in  the  common  prayers  of  the  Christian  Brotherhood  with  whom  he 
delighted  to  worship.  The  text  of  the  sermon  he  heard  on  that  occa- 
sion was  taken  from  St.  Paul's  address  in  the  synagogue  of  Antioch  : 
'  David,  after  he  had  served  his  own  generation,  by  the  will  of  God, 
fell  on  sleep,  and  was  laid  to  his  fathers.'  Those  words  seem  to  have 
struck  his  mind  most  forcibly.  I  shall  not  forget  with  what  earnest- 
ness and  solemnity  he  afterwards  commented  upon  them.  They  sug- 
gested, he  thought,  '  a  sublime  ideal  of  human  life,  and  a  comfortable 
view  of  decease.'  Certainly  he  seems  to  have  kept  such  an  ideal  be- 
fore him.  He  '  served  his  own  generation  '  in  the  way  God  marked 
out  for  him  faithfully  and  well.  Let  me  only  remind  you  how  much 
he  has  done,  in  conjunction  with  the  brother  who  now  survives  him, 
for  th~e  dissemination  of  that  pure,  wholesome  literature  which,  though 
not  coming  under  the  special  denomination  of  religious,  has  very 
greatly  served  the  cause  of  religion  by  humanizing  and  elevating  the 
mind,  and  thus  preparing  it  for  the  direct  teaching  of  divine  truth. 
Those  who,  like  myself,  have  been  much  interested  in  the  work  of 
popular  education  in  England,  must  ever  honor  his  name  for  this 
service  to  the  generation  in  which  he  lived.  But  my  object  is  not  so 
much  to  speak  his  praises  as  to  gather  out  for  myself  and  for  you  the 
instruction  of  his  life  and  example.  He  was  a  great  lover  of  Nature, 
and  a  patient,  nor  by  any  means  an  unsuccessful  student  of  her  works. 

*  He  left  the  following  family:  Jane  (Mrs.  F.  Lehmann);  Robert  Anne  (Mrs. 
Dowie) ;  Eliza  (Mrs.  1'riestley);  Amelia  (Mrs.  R.  Lehmann) ;  James;  William; 
Ph'cbe  (Mrs.  Zeigler) ;  and  Alice.  Mary  (Mrs.  Edwards)  predeceased  him,  leaving 
three  orphan  children  to  his  care. 


716  ROBERT     AND     WILLIAM     CHAMBERS. 

And  he  was  ever  ready  to  encourage  the  investigations  of  every  man 
whose  heart  was  loyal  to  truth,  even  though  the  investigator  might 
seem,  in  his  better  judgment,  to  be  proceeding  upon  a  wrong  principle. 
But  certainly,  in  his  conversations  with  myself,  he  ever  evinced  the 
clearest  recognition  of  a  Personal  God  moving  amidst  his  own  crea- 
tion, and  ruling  it  constantly  by  his  Word.  ...  He  seems  to 
have  had  so  great  a  reverence  for  the  deep  things  of  God,  and  so 
humbling  a  sense  of  his  own  inability  to  grapple  with  them,  that  he 
was  ever  most  unwilling  to  converse  about  them.  He  was,  I  believe, 
a  sincerely  attached  member  of  the  Episcopal  Church  of  Scotland. 
He  venerated  its  old  historic  associations  and  traditions.  He  loved 
its  sound  and  sober  standards  of  faith  and  devotion.  At  the  same 
time  he  very  highly  esteemed  the  ministers  of  the  National  Establish- 
ment ;  he  did  full  justice  to  the  good  he  knew  in  other  communions ; 
and  he  never  counted  men  offenders  for  difference  of  opinion.  .  . 
He  seemed  to  be  a  man  of  vigorous,  manly  intellect,  sparing  no 
labor,  no  self-devotion,  in  the  acquirement  of  whatever  knowledge 
he  thought  it  good,  for  himself  and  for  his  fellow-creatures,  to  pos- 
sess ;  and  at  the  same  time  a  man  of  pure,  gentle,  kind,  and  unselfish 
character,  whom  it  was  impossible  to  know  and  not  to  love." 

• 

Here  terminates  our  Memoir.  The  principal  subject  of  it  had 
passed  away  in  his  sixty-ninth  year,  a  victim,  as  it  appeared  to 
himself  and  his  family,  of  that  species  of  excessive  literary  labor 
which,  by  overtasking  the  nervous  system,  often  proves  so  fatal.  Of 
the  esteem  generally  entertained  for  him  in  his  private  character,  I 
do  not  propose  to  dilate.  His  genial  and  kindly  disposition,  to  say 
nothing  of  his  acquirements,  gave  him  many  friends.  Never  had 
children  a  more  loving  father.  In  public  affairs  he  was  not  qualified 
to  take  a  prominent  part.  At  one  time,  as  has  been  seen,  he  edited 
a  newspaper  in  the  old  Conservative  interest,  but  his  politics  were  of 
a  mild  type;  and  latterly  he  was  numbered  among  the  friends  of 
social  progress  within  sound  constitutional  limits.  His  generosity 
in  extending  aid  to  the  needy  and  deserving  was  a  marked  trait  in 
his  character.  His  tastes  led  him  to  be  elected  a  Fellow  of  several 
learned  Societies,  and  he  was  a  member  of  the  Athena5um  Club. 
Diligent,  accurate,  and  upright,  he  entertained  clear  views  on  all 
ordinary  concerns;  and  no  one  could  be  more  unscrupulous  in  his 
denunciation  of  whatever  was  narrow,  mean,  or  dishonorable.  If, 
in  any  of  these  respects,  he  sometimes  cherished  resentments  that, 
founded  on  misconception  and  prejudice,  had  better  have  been  for- 
gotten, it  is  allowable  to  think  that  such  failings  might  fairly  be  im- 
puted to  an  overwrought  susceptibility  of  temperament  not  common 
in  the  ordinary  walks  of  life. 

With  regard  to  my  brother's  literary  character  and  works,  I  shall 
not,  having  said  so  much  already,  attempt  any  elaborate  estimate  or 
analysis.  His  best  services  were  devoted  to  his  native  country,  and, 


HIS    LITERARY    CHARACTER    AND    WORKS.  717 

with  the  exception  of  his  illustrious  contemporary,  Sir  Walter  Scott, 
no  other  author  has  done  so  much  to  illustrate  its  social  state,  its 
scenery,  romantic  historical  incidents,  and  antiquities,  the  lives  of  its 
eminent  men,  and  the  changes  in  Scottish  society  and  the  condition 
of  the  people  (especially  those  in  the  capital),  during  the  last  two 
centuries.  His  first  work,  the  "Traditions  of  Edinburgh,"  evinced 
this  strong  bias  and  ruling  passion  of  his  mind.  He  was,  as  has  been 
stated,  assisted  by  Charles  Kirkpatrick  Sharpe  and  Sir  Walter  Scott, 
but  the  great  bulk  of  the  traditions  and  all  their  setting  were  his  own. 
He  knew  every  remarkable  house,  its  possessors,  and  their  genealogy  ; 
every  wynd  and  close  from  the  Castle-hill  to  Holyrood ;  and  in  de- 
scribing these,  he  poured  forth  a  vast  amount  of  curious  reading  and 
information,  much  of  which  would  have  been  lost  but  for  the  taste 
and  diligence  of  so  enthusiastic  a  collector.  Perhaps  this  work  will 
hereafter  be  considered  the  most  unique  and  valuable  of  all  his  labors. 
His  next  production,  however,  has  enjoyed  a  still  greater  share  of 
popularity.  I  allude  to  the  "History  of  the  Rebellion  of  1745-46," 
a  work  which  was  very  carefully  written  ;  and  the  subject  had  a  wide 
and  deep  interest.  As  latterly  extended,  by  materials  gathered  from 
the  "  Lyon  in  Mourning,"*  the  book  has  taken  its  place  among  our 
standard  works,  as  a  faithful  and  animated  narrative  of  one  of  the 
most  striking  and  memorable  periods  in  our  national  annals. 

The  other  popular  histories  written  between  1827  and  1830  are  less 
original  and  less  valuable  than  the  narrative  of  the  '45.  The  "  Calen- 
dars of  State  Papers"  were  not  then  published,  nor  had  antiquarian 
clubs  and  family  repositories  enriched  our  stores  of  historical  knowl- 
edge with  those  minute  and  graphic  details  which  add  life,  and  spirit, 
and  individuality  to  the  pages  of  Macaulay  and  Froude.  My  brother's 
works  are  of  the  nature  of  memoirs.  His  object  was  to  present  a 
view  or  portraiture  of  the  external  circumstances  of  the  period  em- 
braced— a  series  of  military  narratives — rather  than  to  attempt  "his- 
tories of  the  legitimate  description,  which  should  appeal  only  to  the 
moral  faculties  of  the  select  few."  He  anticipated  Macaulay  in 
desiring  to  make  history  interesting  to  the  many,  embracing  details 
of  the  manners,  customs,  social  habits,  and  daily  life  of  the  nation  ; 
and  with  all  young  readers,  and  generally  with  the  middle  and  lower 
ranks  of  the  Scottish  people,  he  was  eminently  successful.  Of  a 
kindred  character  with  these  works  was  the  "Popular  Rhymes  of 
Scotland,"  an  amusing  embodiment  of  folk-lore  and  mementoes  of 
childhood  descending  from  one  generation  to  another  in  various 
countries  of  Europe. 

By  the  establishment  of  Chambers' s  Journal,  my  brother  was  hap- 
pily led  into  a  new  walk  of  literature.  He  came  forward  as  a  weekly 

*  This  curious  and  valuable  collection  of  manuscripts  has  been  bequeathed  to  the 
Faculty  of  Advocates,  Edinburgh,  in  grateful  acknowledgment  of  the  many  benefits 
derived  from  their  extensive  library. 


718  ROBERT     AND      WILLIAM     CHAMBERS. 

essayist.  During  fifteen  years,  as  he  has  himself  related,  he  labored 
in  this  field,  "  alternately  gay,  grave,  sentimental,  and  philosophical," 
until  not  much  fewer  than  four  hundred  separate  papers  proceeded 
from  his  pen.  In  these  were  best  seen  his  imaginative  faculties.  His 
familiar  and  humorous  sketches  of  Scottish  life  and  character  are 
allowed  to  be  true  to  nature ;  they  were  certainly  drawn  from  the 
life,  and  may  be  compared  to  the  descriptions  of  Henry  Mackenzie 
in  the  "Mirror"  and  "Lounger"  as  to  discrimination  and  fidelity 
of  portraiture.  Many  of  my  brother's  essays  are  also  on  literary  and 
antiquarian  topics,  and  will  be  found  not  only  honorable  to  his  dili- 
gence as  a  self-directed  and  self-upheld  student,  but  replete  with 
correct,  humane,  and  manly  feeling.  Essays  or  short  disquisitions  on 
scientific  subjects  were  occasionally  inserted  in  the  Journal,  for,  as 
has  been  shown,  my  brother,  latterly,  devoted  much  time  and  study 
to  geology  and  other  departments  of  physical  science ;  the  result  of 
which  was  the  work  on  "Ancient  Sea-margins,"  and  a  variety  of 
papers  communicated  to  the  Royal  Society  of  Edinburgh. 

The  patient  investigation,  long  journeys,  and  careful  accumulation 
of  facts  employed  in  establishing  his  geological  theories,  indicate  the 
true  scientific  spirit  and  enthusiasm,  and  there  can  be  little  doubt  that, 
had  the  circumstances  of  his  early  life  been  more  favorable,  he  would 
have  taken  a  high  place  among  the  men  of  science  who  have  illus- 
trated the  nineteenth  century.  Considering  that  his  education,  as  he 
frankly  avows,  never  cost  his  parents  so  much  as  ten  pounds,  the 
wonder  is  that  he  did  so  much. 

As  regards  his  "  Cyclopaedia  of  English  Literature,"  his  "  Life  and 
Writings  of  Burns,"  his  "Domestic  Annals  of  Scotland,"  his  "Book 
of  Days,"  and  the  lesser  works  he  produced,  sufficient  has  perhaps 
been  said  in  the  course  of  this  Memoir.  On  none  of  his  later  works 
did  he  look  back  with  so  much  heartfelt  pleasure  and  satisfaction,  and 
'none  deserves  greater  praise,  for  its  remarkable  fidelity,  than  that 
concerning  Robert  Burns.  Here,  for  the  first  time,  the  life  of  the 
poet,  with  all  its  lights  and  shades,  was  correctly  delineated.  The 
story  of  Highland  Mary,  and  the  dark  days  of  Dumfries,  were  placed 
truly  before  the  world,  and  allusions  in  the  poems  and  letters  were 
fully  explained.  Of  all  future  editions  of  the  Scottish  poet,  this  ex- 
planatory and  chronological  one  must  form  the  basis. 

Altogether,  as  nearly  as  can  be  reckoned,  my  brother  produced 
Upwards  of  seventy  volumes,  exclusively  of  detached  papers  which  it 
would  be  impossible  to  enumerate.  His  whole  writings  had  for  their 
aim  the  good  of  society,  the  advancement  in  some  shape  or  other  of 
the  true  and  beautiful.  It  will  hardly  be  thought  that  I  exceed  the 
proper  bounds  of  panegyric  in  stating,  that  in  the  long  list  of  literary 
compositions  of  Robert  Chambers,  we  see  the  zealous  and  successful 
student,  the  sagacious  and  benevolent  citizen,  and  the  devoted  lover 
of  his  country. 


HORACE    GREELEY. 


IN  the  great  battle  of  life,  the  essential  conditions  of  success  are 
character  and  opportunity.  The  rarest  qualities  of  manhood 
demand  the  influence  of  favorable  circumstances  for  their  true  and 
complete  development.  But  in  certain  cases,  the  lack  of  outward 
opportunity  finds  compensation  in  the  superior  force  of  inward  endow- 
ment. The  native  power  of  character  triumphs  over  every  obstacle, 
and  assures  its  possessor  a  distinguished  and  noble  career.  Of  this 
truth,  the  subject  of  the  present  brief  memoir  affords  a  brilliant  and 
impressive  illustration.  Horace  Greeley  is  often  spoken  of  as  a  re- 
markable type  of  the  self-made  man,  but  we  shall  here  present  him 
as  a  signal  example  of  the  supremacy  of  character  over  the  want  of 
opportunity.  His  career  has  been  the  spontaneous  evolution  of  his 
inward  nature,  the  inevitable  product  of  the  qualities  of  the  man, 
which  were  exhibited  in  his  earliest  childhood,  and  gave  promise  of 
the  success  of  his  maturity,  but  received  no  friendly  impulse  from 
surrounding  circumstances.  No  favorite  of  fortune,  he  has  been  the 
conqueror  of  fate. 

Horace  Greeley  was  born  in  Amherst,  N.  H.,  February  3,  1811. 
His  father  was  a  poor  and  hard-working  farmer,  struggling  to  support 
an  increasing  family,  and  burdened  with  a  large  debt  incurred  for 
the  purchase  of  his  farm.  The  soil  of  this  farm  was  hard  and  rocky, 
consisting  of  a  strong,  gravelly  loam,  too  cold  and  rough  for  the  cul- 
tivation of  wheat,  but  producing  moderate  crops  of  rye,  oats,  pota- 
toes, Indian  corn,  and  grass.  The  house  in  which  Horace  was  born 
was  a  modest,  unpainted  structure  of  one  story,  standing  upon  a  ledge 
of  rock,  half-way  up  a  steep  hill,  and  commanding  an  extensive  view 
of  the  surrounding  country.  In  the  kitchen  was  the  huge,  old-fash- 
ioned country  fire-place,  which  had  devoured  all  the  wood  on  the 
farm,  and  was  still  ravenous  in  its  demands  for  more.  There  was  an 
orchard  of  natural  fruit,  on  the  hill-side  near  the  house,  which  bore 
a  kind  of  sweet  and  spicy  apple  whose  flavor  is  seldom  equaled  by 
the  choicer  productions  that  are  now  sold  in  the  market. 

The  earliest  experience  of  Horace  was  found  in  the  severe  labors 

(7^9) 


720  HORACE     GREELEY. 

of  the  farm.  He  learned  to  work  almost  as  soon  as  he  could  walk. 
His  usual  task,  before  he  was  five  years  old,  was  to  ride  the  horse  to 
plow  before  the  oxen,  in  which  pursuit  there  was  sometimes  a  little 
peril.  Occasionally,  the  plow  would  strike  a  fast  stone,  when  the 
team  was  brought  up  all  standing,  and  the  tiny,  white-headed  rider 
would  be  thrown  over  the  horse's  head  four  or  five  feet  in  front. 
After  the  corn  was  ready  for  hoeing,  he  would  precede  his  father  in  the* 
furrows,  dig  open  the  hills,  and  kill  the  wire-worms  and  grubs  that 
were  forestalling  the  scanty  harvest.  In  the  frosty  autumn  mornings, 
he  was  called  out  at  sunrise  to  watch  the  oxen,  that  were  feeding  on 
the  thick,  sweet  grass  beside  the  cornfield,  while  the  men  were  at 
breakfast,  before  yoking  up  and  driving  the  team  afield. 

Another  occupation  of  the  growing  boy  was  to  watch  the  pits  for 
burning  charcoal  in  the  neighboring  woods.  The  pit  of  green  wood 
was  often  nine  days  in  burning,  and  every  pit  must  be  watched  night 
and  day  till  the  process  was  complete.  The  business  was  not  with- 
out its  peculiar  fascinations.  It  was  a  pleasure  to  the  young 
night-watcher  and  charcoal-burner  to  sit  or  lie  on  a  mild,  quiet 
evening,  in  a  rude  forest  hut  of  logs  three  or  four  rods  from  the  pit, 
with  a  bright  fire  burning  between,  telling  funny  stories,  and  beguil- 
ing the  hours  with  a  pleasant  game  of  cards,  checkers,  or  fox-and- 
geese,  and  perhaps  a  forage  on  some  luckless  water-melon  patch  in  the 
vicinity. 

Picking  stones  was,  of  course,  an  endless  labor  on  the  rocky  New 
England  farm.  Every  plowing  turned  up  a  fresh  crop  of  bowlders 
and  pebbles  from  the  size  of  a  hickory-nut  to  that  of  a  tea-kettle. 
The  work  was  to  be  done  mainly  in  March  or  April,  when  the  ground 
was  saturated  with  ice-cold  water,  if  not  whitened  with  falling  snow. 
The  half-frozen  fingers  and  toes  of  the  diligent  youngster  soon  made 
him  regard  this  task  with  abhorrence,  and  with  all  his  love  for  his 
native  State,  he  can  scarcely  to  this  day  forgive  her  for  dividing  her 
granite  into  such  small  fragments. 

The  annual  gathering  of  hops,  which  at  that  time  were  cultivated 
to  a  considerable  extent  by  the  farmers  in  that  part  of  New  Hamp- 
shire, afforded  an  agreeable  relief  to  the  prevailing  monotony  of  rural 
toil.  It  formed  a  sort  of  rustic  carnival,  a  festive  harvest-home, 
like  the  vintage  in  the  south  of  France  and  Italy.  The  picking 
took  place  in  the  early  part  of  September,  and  was  chiefly  performed 
by  young  women,  the  daughters  of  neighboring  farmers,  and  the 
older  children  of  both  sexes.  In  stripping  the  hops  from  the  poles, 
and  storing  them  away  in  large  bins,  there  was  often  an  ardent  rivalry 
among  different  groups.  The  work  was  pushed  with  intense  excite- 
ment, and  when  completed,  gave  way  to  good  cheer  and  social 
amusement.  Mr.  Greeley  fondly  dwells  on  these  recreations  of  his 
boyish  days  as  among  the  most  enticing  features  of  New  England 
country  life  half  a  century  ago. 

In  spite  of  his  employment  in  the  rugged  labors  of  the  farm,  Hor- 


HIS     MOTHER,    AND     FIRST     SCHOOL.  72! 

ace,  for  many  years,  was  a  feeble  and  sickly  child.  He  was  often 
under  medical  treatment,  and  could  not  even  watch  the  falling  rain 
through  a  closed  window,  without  an  instant  and  violent  attack  of 
illness.  On  this  account,  as  well  as  of  the  loss  of  two  elder  children, 
just  before  his  birth,  his  mother  was  led  to  regard  him  with  an  ex- 
ceptional affection  and  tenderness.  She  made  him  her  companion 
and  confidant  as  soon  as  he  had  learned  to  talk.  Her  rich  store  of 
ballads,  stories,  anecdotes,  and  traditions,  was  daily  poured  into  his 
listening  ears.  He  learned  to  read  at  her  knee,  longer  ago  than  he 
can  remember,  although  he  faintly  recollects  her  as  she  sat  spinning 
at  her  little  wheel,  with  the  book  in  her  lap,  from  which  he  had  his 
daily  lesson. 

The  mother  of  Horace  Greeley  was  a  woman  of  extraordinary  na- 
tural endowments  and  character.  She  was  tall,  muscular,  and  well- 
formed  in  person,  with  the  strength  of  a  man  without  his  coarseness, 
of  overflowing  animal  spirits,  delighting  in  hard  work,  of  which  she 
was  abundantly  capable,  and  of  an  exuberant  good-will  to  every 
thing  that  lived.  She  was  the  life  of  the  house,  and  the  favorite  of 
the  whole  neighborhood,  especially  of  the  children.  An  intense 
reader,  she  remembered  whatever  she  read.  Her  industry  was  almost 
fabulous.  Her  activity  was  of  a  masculine  type  in  its  vigor  and 
power  of  accomplishment.  She  worked  out  of  doors  as  well  as  in 
doors,  and  was  no  less  efficient  in  the  hay-field  than  her  husband. 
She  hoed  in  the  garden,  she  labored  in  the  field,  and  while  doing 
more  than  the  work  of  an  ordinary  man  and  woman  combined,  would 
laugh  and  sing  all  day  long,  and  tell  stories  all  the  evening. 

When  Horace  was  about  two  years  old,  he  began  to  pore  over  the 
Bible,  which  was  opened  for  his  entertainment  on  the  floor,  and 
curiously  scan  the  newspaper  that  was  given  him  to  play  with.  At 
three  years  of  age,  he  could  read  any  of  the  books  prepared  for  children, 
and  at  four  any  book  whatever.  His  third  winter  was  spent  at  the 
house  of  his  grandfather,  in  a  neighboring  town,  where  he  attended 
a  district  school  for  the  first  time.  The  school-house,  according  to 
the  rude  fashion  of  the  day,  was  a  small  building  of  one  story,  con- 
taining but  one  apartment,  with  two  windows  on  each  side.  It  had 
a  small  door  on  the  gable-end  that  faced  the  road,  and  a  low  door- 
step before  it.  It  was  without  the  semblance  of  an  ornament,  not 
inclosed  by  a  fence,  nor  shaded  by  a  tree.  There  was  nothing  to 
protect  it  from  the  heat  of  the  sun  in  summer,  or  the  blast  of  the 
storm  in  winter.  Its  whole  aspect  was  singularly  forlorn  and  repul- 
sive. The  little  school-room  was  built  for  about  fifty  pupils,  and  it 
could  scarcely  hold  the  chair  and  table  of  the  teacher.  Opposite  the 
door  was  a  vast  fire-place,  four  or  five  feet  wide,  where  a  load  of  wood 
could  burn  in  one  prodigious  fire.  A  low, slanting  shelf  along  the 
sides  of  the  room  served  for  a  desk  to  those  who  wrote,  while  the 
pupils  were  seated  on  inverted  slabs,  supported  on  sticks,  and  without 
backs.  The  school  began  at  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  the 
46 


722  HORACE     GREELEV. 

arrival  of  that  hour  was  announced  by  the  teacher  rapping  upon  the 
window-frame  with  a  ruler.  The  young  folks  of  both  sexes  came 
tumbling  in  from  their  frolics  in  the  snow.  Among  the  pupils  there 
might  be  a  dozen  grown-up  young  men  and  women.  Not  unfrequendy, 
married  men,  and  occasionally  married  women,  attended  school  in  the 
winter. 

With  the  start  that  had  been  given  him  by  his  mother,  Horace 
could  not  fail  to  make  rapid  progress  in  school.  He  was  so  eager  in 
his  attendance,  that  when  the  snow-drifts  were  too  deep  for  him  to 
wade  through,  one  of  his  aunts  would  take  him  upon  her  shoulders 
and  carry  him  to  the  door.  He  soon  rose  to  the  head  of  the  first 
class  in  spelling,  and  it  was  no  easy  thing  for  a  juvenile  rival  to' re- 
move him  from  the  position.  This  was  an  accomplishment  in  which 
he  especially  excelled,  and  in  the  spelling-matches  which  were  then 
in  vogue,  he  usually  bore  away  the  palm,  although  only  four  years 
old.  These  matches  took  place  in  the  evening  when  he  could  not 
keep  his  eyes  open,  and  should  have  been  in  bed.  It  was  often 
necessary  to  give  him  a  sharp  rap  when  it  came  his  turn  to  spell  the 
word,  so  that  it  was  said  he  could  spell  as  well  asleep  as  awake. 

The  first  book  he  ever  owned  was  "  The  Columbian  Orator,"  a 
medley  of  dialogues  extracts  from  orations,  sermons,  and  speeches 
in  Parliament  and  Congress,  with  two  or  three  versified  themes  for 
declamation.  Among  its  contents  was  a  famous  piece, 

"  You'd  scarce  expect  one  of  my  age 
To  speak  in  public  on  the  stage," 

which  the  young  orator  was  so  often  dragged  forward  to  recite,  that 
he  came  to  hate  the  very  sound  of  it.  He  spoke  in  a  soft,  whining 
voice,  with  a  lisping  accent,  but  with  perfect  confidence  in  his  own 
powers  of  elocution,  and  greatly  to  the  amusement  of  the  school. 

At  this  time,  Horace  is  described  as  an  active,  bright,  and  eager 
boy,  but  not  fond  of  play,  and  seldom  taking  part  in  the  sports  of 
his  companions.  He  was  the  pet  of  the  school,  though  not  a  favorite 
play-fellow,  and  was  liked  by  those  whom  he  signally  excelled  as  well 
as  by  the  others.  In  some  respects,  he  was  very  brave,  but  in  others  he 
exhibited  a  vein  of  timidity.  He  was  never  afraid  in  the  dark,  nor 
frightened  by  ghost  stories.  In  speaking  or  reciting,  he  was  always 
self-possessed,  and  did  not  hesitate  to  question  the  decision  of  his 
teacher,  when  he  thought  it  was  wrong,  though  never  in  a  spirit  of 
impertinence.  But  he  could  not  stand  up  to  a  boy  and  fight.  If 
attacked,  he  would  neither  return  the  blow  nor  run  away,  but  bear  it 
quietly.  His  ear  was  so  sensitive  that  any  loud  noise,  like  the  report 
of  a  gun,  would  almost  throw  him  into  fits.  If  a  gun  were  about  to 
be  fired  off,  he  would  either  run  from  the  spot,  or  throw  himself  upon 
the  ground  and  stuff  grass  into  his  ears.  On  the  Fourth  of  July, 
when  the  people  burned  an  immense  quantity  of  gun-powder  in  honor 


HIS     PASSION     FOR     READING.  723 

of  the  day,  he  would  betake  himself  to  the  woods  in  order  to  escape 
the  sound  of  the  fire-arms. 

Horace  was  in  about  his  fourth  year  when  he  began  the  habit  of 
insatiable  reading,  which  has  been  one  of  his  ruling  tastes  in  every 
period  of  his  life.  He  would  lie  under  a  tree  on  his  back,  com- 
pletely absorbed  in  his  book,  often  reading  on,  unmindful  of  dinner-time 
and  sunset,  as  long  as  he  could  see.  His  delight  in  books  led  him, 
while  yet  a  mere  child,  to  resolve  on  being  a  printer.  It  is  related 
that  he  went  one  day  to  a  blacksmith's  shop  and  watched  the  process 
of  shoeing  a  horse  with  great  eagerness.  The  blacksmith,  seeing  how 
intently  he  looked  on,  said  to  him,  "You'd  better  come  with  me 
and  learn  the  trade.  "  "  No,"  said  Horace,  very  decidedly,  "I've 
made  up  my  mind  to  be  a  printer." 

The  passion  for  reading  grew  with  the  growth  of  his  mind.  His 
father's  stock  of  books  was  very  small.  -Besides  the  Bible  and  the 
Presbyterian  Confession  of  Faith,  his  library  amounted  to  scarcely 
twenty  volumes.  But  he  took  a  weekly  newspaper  from  the  neigh- 
boring village,  the  arrival  of  which  was  an  occasion  of  intense  excite- 
ment to  the  future  editor.  An  hour  before  the  post-rider  was  ex- 
pected, Horace  would  walk  down  the  road  to  meet  him,  and  get  the 
first  sight  of  the  precious  sheet.  As  soon  as  it  came  into  his  hands, 
he  would  hurry  off  to  some  secluded  spot,  lie  down  on  the  grass,  and 
greedily  devour  its  contents. 

He  scoured  the  country  round  in  search  of  books.  When  he  had 
exhausted  the  scanty  collections  of  the  neighbors,  he  pursued  the 
quest  in  the  neighboring  towns.  It  is  said  that  there  was  not  a  book 
within  seven  miles  of  his  father's  house  which  he  did  not  borrow.  As 
soon  as  he  was  dressed  in  the  morning  he  flew  to  his  book.  Every 
minute  of  the  day  which  he  could  snatch  from  his  work  on  the  farm, 
and  his  studies  in  school,  was  devoted  to  reading.  He  was  so  absorbed 
in  the  pursuit,  that  when  his  parents  wanted  him,  it  was  like  rousing 
a  heavy  sleeper  from  his  slumbers,  to  secure  his  attention.  Even  ihen, 
he  clung  to  his  book.  He  would  read  as  he  went  to  the  cellar  and 
cider-barrel,  to  the  wood-pile  or  potato-patch,  and  having  performed 
his  errand,  would  take  the  book  from  his  pocket,  where  it  had  been 
placed  for  the  moment,  and  again  fall  to  reading  with  a  zest  increased 
by  the  interruption.  He  even  kept  a  supply  of  pine-knots,  one  of 
which  he  would  light  as  soon  as  it  was  dark,  and  place  on  the  back 
log  in  the  kitchen  fire-place,  when,  stretching  himself  at  full  length 
on  the  hearth,  with  his  books  piled  upon  the  floor,  he  would  be  silent 
and  motionless,  and  read  all  through  the  long  winter  evenings,  with- 
out the  slightest  notice  of  what  was  going  on  around  him.  Visitors 
would  come  in,  chat  with  the  family,  and  go  away,  without  attracting 
his  attention,  and  entirely  unaware  of  the  presence  of  the  quiet  student 
before  the  fire.  It  was  no  easy  matter  to  get  him  to  bed.  His  father 
wished  him  to  be  up  betimes,  and,  therefore,  insisted  on  his  going 
to  bed  early.  He  also  feared  that  the  boy  would  hurt  his  eyes,  reading 


724  HORACE     GREELEY. 

for  so  many  hours  with  his  head  in  the  fire  by  the  flickering  light  of 
a  pine-knot.  Accordingly,  by  nine  o'clock  he  would  begin  to  rouse 
up  the  prostrate  and  dormant  body  and  send  the  unwilling  reader  to 
bed.  Even  then  Horace  would  not  go  to  sleep  before  he  had  related 
to  his  younger  brother  what  he  had  read,  and  recited  the  lessons  of 
the  next  day  for  school.  The  only  sport  in  which  he  loved  to  indulge 
was  fishing,  and  this  he  followed  for  its  utility  rather  than  an  amuse- 
ment. He  fished  for  the  sake  of  fish,  keeping  his  eye  on  the  float, 
and  never  diverting  his  attention  by  talking  with  the  other  boys.  The 
consequence  was  that  he  would  catch  more  fish  than  all  the  rest  of 
the  party.  For  shooting  he  had  no  taste.  If  he  sometimes  went 
with  a  shooting-party,  he  would  never  carry  a  gun,  and  when  the  shot 
was  fired  he  would  lie  down  and  stop  his  ears  till  the  game  was  dis- 
patched. 

When  Horace  was  about  ten  years  old,  an  event  occurred  which 
changed  the  fortunes  of  the  family.  His  father,  although  an  honest, 
industrious,  hard-working  man,  was  never  prosperous  in  his  pecuniary 
affairs.  He  had  no  profit  in  carrying  on  his  farm,  and  what  with 
bad  crops,  frequent  losses,  and  becoming  security  for  a  neighbor,  he 
had  fallen  deeply  in  debt.  At  length  his  property  was  attached,  and 
he  was  obliged  to  conceal  himself  through  fear  of  arrest.  The  family 
remained  in  the  old  homestead  while  he  took  a  journey  on  foot  in 
quest  of  a  new  home.  After  working  as  a  hired  man  for  two  01 
three  months,  he  returned  in  due  time,  and  on  January  ist,  1821, 
started  with  his  family  for  Westhaven,  Vt.,  where  he  had  hired  a 
small  house  for  sixteen  dollars  a  year.  The  journey  was  made  in  a 
two-horse  sleigh,  in  which  were  closely  packed  the  father  and  mother, 
four  children,  and  the  little  wordly  gear  that  was  left.  They  were 
three  days  upon  the  road,  and  after  suffering  intensely  from  the  cold, 
arrived  safely  at  their  humble  home  in  the  north-west  of  Vermont. 
The  family  now  made  the  acquaintance  of  genuine  poverty — not 
beggary  nor  dependence,  but  the  manly  American  sort.  The  sum 
total  of  their  possessions  scarcely  amounted  to  two  hundred  dollars ; 
but  they  never  ran  in  debt,  and  were  never  in  want,  never  without 
meal,  meat,  and  wood,  and  very  seldom  without  money.  The  father 
was  glad  to  turn  his  hand  to  any  work  that  he  could  find — chopping 
wood  at  half  a  dollar  a  day,  gathering  in  the  harvest,  preparing  the 
ground  for  a  new  crop,  tending  a  saw-mill,  and  above  all,  clearing 
up  wild  land,  piling  and  burning  the  trees  after  they  had  been  cut 
down.  After  a  time  he  began  to  keep  cattle  and  sheep,  and  pros- 
pered in  a  small  way.  Working  hard  and  spending  little,  he  con- 
trived to  save  some  money,  although  it  was  a  slow  process. 

He  was  assisted  by  all  his  family  in  whatever  he  undertook.  There 
was  not  much  to  do  at  home,  and  after  breakfast  the  house  was  left 
to  take  care  of  itself,  while  father,  mother,  boys,  girls  and  oxen  went 
off  to  work.  The  father  chopped  the  large  logs,  and  directed  the 
labor  of  the  whole  company.  Horace  drove  the  team,  but  none  too 


HIS    LOVE    TO    TRADE.  725 

well,  and  was  gradually  supplanted  in  the  office  by  his  younger 
brother.  Each  of  the  boys  could  chop  the  smaller  trees.  The 
mother  and  sisters  gathered  the  light  wood  into  heaps.  When  the 
great  logs  had  to  be  rolled  upon  one  another,  it  took  the  strength  and 
skill  of  all  the  little  group.  There  was  no  complaining,  with  all  this 
severe  labor.  The  cheerful  spirit  of  the  mother  made  perpetual  sun- 
shine even  in  the  gloom  of  the  forest.  Her  merry  song  and  laughter 
rose  from  the  tangled  brushwood  in  which  she  was  often  buried.  No 
severity  of  labor  could  disturb  the  harmony  and  good  humor  that 
prevailed  in  the  family.  At  night  they  would  return  to  their  frugal 
supper  of  bean  porridge,  which  was  served  in  primitive  style.  A 
large  milk-pan  was  placed  on  the  floor  filled  with  the  savory  viand, 
and  the  children  helped  themselves  from  the  common  dish  without 
plate  or  bowl. 

Their  clothing  was  naturally  of  the  homeliest  material.  It 
consisted  chiefly  of  the  coarsest  kind  of  homespun  linen,  or  linsey 
woolsey,  dyed  with  butternut  bark,  and  made  up  into  the  rudest  gar- 
ments by  the  mother.  Horace  seldom  wore  more  than  three  garments 
at  the  same  time  in  the  summer  season.  A  ragged  straw  hat,  a  torn 
shirt,  never  buttoned,  and  a  pair  of  coarse  trowsers,  very  short  in  the 
legs,  composed  his  wardrobe.  A  pair  of  shoes  and  stockings  and  a 
jacket  were  added  in  winter.  In  the  evening  nothing  could  tempt 
him  from  his  books.  The  rough  house  was  a  favorite  resort  for  the 
children  of  the  neighborhood.  They  were  fond  of  listening  to  his 
mother's  songs  and  stories,  and  of  playing  with  his  brothers  and  sis- 
ters. Horace  did  not  mind  their  noise  and  romping,  but  would 
never  join  in  their  active  sports.  The  only  amusement  which  could 
tempt  him  from  his  books  was  a  game  of  checkers,  of  which  he  be- 
came extravagantly  fond.  Nobody  in  the  neighborhood  could  beat 
him.  He  gained  so  much  skill  before  he  was  fully  grown  up,  that 
there  were  few  players  in  the  country  round  who  could  win  of  him 
two  games  in  three. 

Throughout  his  boyhood  Horace  was  always  busy  at  something, 
when  he  had  left  his  book  for  a  short  time.  Like  most  of  the  Yankee 
race,  he  loved  to  trade.  He  would  save  up  a  hoard  of  nuts,  and  ex- 
change them  at  the  store  for  the  little  knickknacks  which  had  ex- 
cited his  fancy.  A  bundle  of  pitch-pine  roots,  which  he  would  take 
to  the  store  on  his  back  and  sell  for  kindling  wood,  was  a  favorite 
investment.  He  had  a  great  passion  for  bee-hunting,  and  would 
often  gather  an  immense  quantity  of  wild  honey,  which  he  knew  how 
to  sell  at  a  good  price.  In  this  way  he  managed  always  to  have  a 
little  money.  When  a  peddler  came  along  with  books  in  his  wagon, 
Horace  was  sure  to  be  one  of  his  best  customers. 

His  reading  took  a  wide  range.  Before  he  was  fifteen  he  had 
devoured  an  incredible  number  of  books.  He  had  read  the  whole 
Bible  before  he  was  six  years  old.  In  his  eighth  year  he  read  the 
Arabian  Nights  with  intense  pleasure;  Robinson  Crusoe  in  his  ninth; 


7:5  HORACE     GREELEY. 

Shakespeare  in  his  eleventh  ;  and  by  the  time  he  was  old  enough  to 
be  an  apprentice  he  had  dispatched  most  of  the  common  histories, 
ancient  and  modern,  and  all  the  novels  and  romances  that  he  could 
procure  for  love  or  money. 

Horace  was  still  a  boy  when  he  adopted  the  rigid  temperance 
principles,  of  which  he  has  been  a  strenuous  advocate  in  his  subse- 
quent career.  He  was  only  thirteen  years  old  when  he  made  the 
deliberate  resolve  never  to  drink  distilled  liquors.  At  that  time 
whisky  and  tobacco  were  the  universal  luxuries  in  Vermont.  There 
was  no  entertainment  of  relatives  and  friends,  scarcely  a  casual  gath- 
ering of  two  or  three  neighbors  for  a  social  chat,  without  strong  drink. 
During  the  childhood  of  Horace,  in  New  Hampshire,  cider  was  the 
universal  beverage.  In  many  a  family  of  six  or  eight  persons  a  bar- 
rel would  hardly  hold  out  for  a  week.  The  transition  to  a  more 
potent  stimulant  was  easy  and  natural.  Rum  was  provided  at  all 
seasons  and  on  all  occasions.  No  house  or  barn  was  raised  without 
a  bountiful  supply.  A  wedding  without  toddy,  flip,  sling,  or  punch 
would  have  been  deemed  a  mean  affair,  even  in  the  poorest  families, 
while  those  who  were  well  off  dispensed  wine,  brandy,  and  gin  in  pro- 
fusion, as  a  matter  of  course.  Horace's  determination  not  to  drink 
was  at  first  mentioned  only  at  the  family  fireside.  But  it  soon  leaked 
out  among  the  neighbors,  some  of  whom  took  it  in  high  dudgeon.  At 
the  annual  sheep-washing,  in  the  following  June,  it  was  talked  about 
and  condemned.  It  was  decided  that  the  young  Nazarene  should 
comply  with  the  customs  of  the  place.  He  was  required  to  take  a 
glass  of  liquor,  and,  upon  his  refusal,  he  was  held  by  two  or  three 
of  his  young  companions,  older  and  stronger  than  himself,  while  the 
liquor  was  turned  into  his  mouth,  and  a  part  of  it  forced  down  his 
throat. 

The  religious  creed  to  which  Horace  Greeley  has  adhered  through 
life  was  adopted  at  an  early  age,  illustrating  the  saying  of  the  poet 
that  '"the  child  is  father  of  the  man."  His  parents  accepted  the 
orthodox  faith  of  New  England  —  the  father  inheriting  a  partiality 
for  the  Baptists,  while  his  mother  was  inclined  toward  the  Presbyterians. 
Neither  of  them  was  a  member  of  the  church,  nor  had  a  character  for 
extreme  devotion.  The  father,  however,  was  strict  in  certain  observ- 
ances. He  would  not  allow  novels  or  plays  to  be  read  in  the  house 
on  Sunday.  When  they  lived  near  a  church  the  family  attended  it 
regularly,  Horace  among  the  rest.  Sometimes  on  Sunday  the  father 
would  require  the  children  to  read  a  certain  number  of  chapters  in 
the  Bible.  The  religious  education  of  the  boy  was,  accordingly,  free 
from  a  strong  sectarian  influence,  but  doubtless  leaning  toward  the 
prevalent  orthodoxy  of  the  day.  Yet,  from  the  age  of  twelve,  he 
began  to  doubt  the  doctrine  of  eternal  punishment,  and  within  a  year 
or  two  from  that  time,  was  fully  grounded  in  the  faith  of  the  Uni- 
versalists,  although  he  never  entered  a  Universalist  church  till  he  was 
twenty  years  old. 


APPRENTICED     TO     THE     PRINTING     BUSINESS.       727 

The  desire  to  become  a  printer,  which  was  cherished  by  Horace 
from  his  childhood,  has  already  been  spoken  of.  When  he  was  but 
eleven  years  old,  hearing  that  an  apprentice  was  wanted  in  the  news- 
paper office  at  Whitehall,  he  applied  for  the  situation,  with  the  con- 
sent of  his  father,  but  was  at  once  rejected  on  account  of  his  tender 
age.  He  went  home  downcast  and  sorrowful.  It  was  not  until  four 
years  afterward  that  another  opportunity  was  presented.  In  the 
spring  of  1826,  an  apprentice  was  advertised  for  by  the  publishers  of 
a  weekly  newspaper  in  East  Poultney,  a  rural  village  in  Vermont, 
about  twelve  miles  distant  from  the  family  home.  His  father  was 
about  to  remove  to  the  West,  and  no  longer  had  need  of  his  services. 
He  cheerfully  consented  to  the  wishes  of  Horace,  who  walked  over 
to  Poultney,  made  an  agreement  with  the  publishers,  and  a  few  days 
afterward  engaged  in  their  employ.  He  took  his  place  at  the  font 
as  though  "to  the  manner  born,"  and  after  a  few  words  of  instruction 
from  the  foreman,  addressed  himself  to  his  new  task.  He  needed  no 
further  assistance.  He  had  thought  of  his  chosen  vocation  for  so 
many  years  that  he  seemed  to  comprehend  the  mysteries  of  the  craft 
intuitively.  All  he  had  to  acquire  was  manual  dexterity.  He  worked 
on  in  perfect  silence,  hour  after  hour,  through  the  day.  When  he 
left  the  office  at  night  he  could  set  type  better  than  many  an  ap- 
prentice who  had  been  in  practice  for  a  month.  The  next  day  he 
worked  with  the  same  silence  and  intensity,  and  so  on  for  several 
days,  until  he  acquired  the  respect  of  his  companions,  who  at  first 
had  been  disposed  to  make  fun  of  the  green  hand. 

In  his  new  situation  Horace  found  unwonted  opportunities  for  the 
attainment  of  knowledge  and  the  exercise  of  his  faculties.  The  editor 
of  the  paper  was  a  man  of  good  education  and  kindly  feelings.  With 
him  the  young  aspirant  often  engaged  in  friendly  debate.  Historical^ 
political  and  religious  questions  were  fully  and  earnestly  discussed. 
Horace  proved  to  be  so  thoroughly  master  of  the  situation,  that  his 
more  experienced  rival  was  often  at  fault.  The  town  library  gave 
him  access  to  books  ;  he  still  read  during  all  his  leisure  hours ;  be- 
came a  frequent  talker  in  the  village  lyceum ;  and  often  wrote  dis- 
sertations on  subjects  of  interest.  Though  modest  and  retiring  in 
his  manners,  he  would  sometimes  engage  in  discussion  with  the  ablest 
village  politicians,  who  never  left  the  field  without  a  profound  impres- 
sion of  the  soundness  of  his  views  and  the  accuracy  of  his  statements. 

He  now  gained  his  first  experience  in  original  composition.  He 
began,  not  indeed  to  write,  but  to  compose  paragraphs  for  the  paper 
as  he  stood  at  the  desk,  and  to  put  them  in  type  as  he  composed 
them.  He  had  joined  a  debating  society  during  the  first  winter  of 
his  residence  in  Poultney,  and  soon  became  one  of  its  leading  mem- 
bers. Whenever  he  was  appointed  to  speak  or  read  an  essay,  he  never 
wanted  to  be  excused,  but  was  always  ready.  He  would  stick  to  his 
opinion  against  all  opposition,  replying  with  the  most  perfect  assurance 
to  men  of  high  station  and  of  low.  His  wonderful  memory  gave  him 


728  HORACE     GREELEY. 

a  great  advantage  over  his  opponents.  He  never  forgot  the  minutest 
details  of  important  events,  and  could  draw  upon  his  reading  for 
facts  with  full  confidence  in  the  exactness  of  his  impressions.  He 
was  never  treated  as  a  boy  by  his  fellow-members  of  the  society,  but 
as  a  man  and  an  equal.  His  opinions  were  regarded  with  as  much 
deference  as  those  of  the  judge  or  the  sheriff. 

Horace  was  always  a  fluent  and  interesting  speaker,  although  he 
made  no  pretensions  to  the  graces  of  oratory.  He  gained  not  a  little 
power  in  debate  by  his  pertinent  appeals  to  facts  that  had  been  lost 
sight  of,  or  by  the  correction  of  a  false  quotation.  He  never  lost 
his  temper,  and  always  retained  the  good  will  even  of  his  adversaries 
by  his  evident  earnestness  and  sincerity. 

The  father  of  Mr.  Greeley,  meantime,  had  taken  up  his  residence  in 
Erie  County,  Pennsylvania,  where  he  had  purchased  some  wild  land 
which  he  was  laboring  to  convert  into  a  farm.  He  was  aided  in  his 
struggles  by  the  filial  devotion  of  his  son.  Horace  spent  not  a  dollar 
of  his  scanty  stipend  on  superfluities,  but  religiously  devoted  to  his 
father  whatever  could  be  saved  by  the  most  rigid  economy.  His  dress 
while  at  work  in  summer  was  only  a  shirt  and  trowsers.  In  his  walks 
about  the  village,  he  added  a  cheap  straw  hat  to  this  simple  costume ; 
but,  even  in  winter,  did  not  indulge  in  the  luxury  of  an  overcoat. 
The  boys  in  the  neighborhood  often  laughed  at  him  for  his  homely 
dress. 

During  his  residence  at  Poultney  he  twice  visited  his  parents  in 
Pennsylvania,  a  distance  of  six  hundred  miles,  walking  a  great  part 
of  the  way,  and  performing  the  rest  of  the  journey  by  a  slow  canal- 
boat.  He  found  the  days  of  steady,  solitary  walking  most  favorable 
to  quiet  meditation.  A  walk  of  two  or  three  hundred  miles  in  the 
clear,  calm  autumnal  weather  was  a  luxury.  On  approaching  his 
father's  forest-home,  it  was  just  at  dusk,  and  he  lost  his  way  in  the 
woods.  He  remained  over  night  in  the  cabin  of  a  settler.  It  con- 
sisted of  a  single  room ;  the  logs  of  which  it  was  built  were  still  so 
green  that  the  fire  was  made  close  to  one  side  on  the  bare  earth,  with 
no  fire-place  and  no  chimney,  but  a  hole  through  the  bark-covered 
roof.  His  father's  dwelling  was  of  the  same  description.  It  was  in 
the  midst  of  the  primeval  wilderness.  The  giant  timber  yielded  slowly 
to  the  ax.  The  crops  were  precarious  and  scanty,  ravaged  by  myr- 
iads of  pigeons  and  all  manner  of  four-footed  beasts,  while  the 
family  of  the  pioneer  were  doomed  to  an  almost  desperate  struggle  for 
existence.  The  mother  of  Horace  could  never  become  reconciled  to 
this  rude  way  of  life.  The  shadow  of  the  great  woods  oppressed  her 
from  the  hour  she  first  entered  them ;  the  old  smile  departed  from 
her  face,  she  lost  the  familiar  gladness  of  her  manner ;  and  though 
she  lived  to  the  age  of  sixty-eight,  for  many  years,  she  had  been 
worn  out  by  hard  work,  and  broken  down  both  in  body  and  mind. 

While  an  apprentice  at  East  Poultney,  Horace  boarded  for  some 
time  at  the  village  tavern.  It  was  kept  by  a  worthy,  old-fashioned 


VISITS    HIS     PARENTS.  729 

couple,  who  became  greatly  attached  to  their  singular  guest,  and  he 
to  them.  As  tbey  give  their  recollections  of  his  habits  in  the  family, 
he  was  rather  fond  of  good  living,  and  ate  and  drank  whatever  was 
set  before  him  with  a  healthy  appetite.  He  was  very  fond  of  coffee, 
but  cared  little  for  tea.  He  stood  for  no  ceremony  at  the  table,  but 
fell  to  without  waiting  to  be  asked  or  helped,  and  stopped  as  suddenly 
as  he  had  begun.  Nothing  could  tempt  him  to  touch  a  drop  of 
strong  drink.  When  any  topic  of  interest  was  started  at  the  table, 
he  joined  in  the  discussion  with  great  confidence,  and  maintained  his 
opinion  against  all  the  talkers,  with  remarkable  vivacity,  but  in  per- 
fect good  temper.  He  came  at  length  to  be  regarded  as  a  sort  of 
living  cyclopaedia,  and  was  referred  to  as  a  final  authority  whenever 
there  was  a  dispute.  He  never  went  to  a  social  party  of  any  kind, 
never  joined  his  acquaintance  on  an  excursion,  never  slept  away  from 
home,  nor  was  absent  from  a  meal  as  long  as  he  lived  at  the  tavern, 
except  when  he  went  to  visit  his  parents.  He  seldom  went  to  church, 
and  usually  spent  the  Sunday  in  reading.  His  religious  and  political 
opinions  were  already  fixed.  He  was  a  decided  Universalist,  a  staunch 
whig,  and  a  zealous  anti-mason. 

After  serving  an  apprenticeship  of  four  years  in  the  printing  office 
at  East  Poultney,  he  had  become  master  of  the  trade,  and  rendered 
important  assistance  in  editing  the  newspaper.  The  little  establish- 
ment, however,  proved  unsuccessful.  It  had  changed  proprietors 
several  times,  but  none  of  them  could  make  it  prosper.  At  length  it 
was  decided  to  abandon  the  enterprise,  and  the  paper  was  discontinued 
in  the  month  of  June,  1830.  Young  Greeley  was  now  in  his  twentieth 
year ;  the  world  was  all  before  him,  and  he  was  free  to  take  any  course 
that  he  might  judge  fit. 

His  first  step  was  to  visit  his  parents  in  their  remote  home.  At  that 
time  the  journey  required  about  twelve  days.  It  was  accomplished,  as 
on  previous  occasions,  partly  on  foot  and  partly  by  canal-boat.  He 
arrived  at  the  house  in  the  wilderness  late  in  the  evening.  He  found 
his  father  and  brother  completely  transformed  into  back- woodsmen. 
Their  log  cabin  stood  in  the  midst  of  a  narrow  clearing,  covered  with 
blackened  stumps  and  smoked  with  burning  timber.  Dark  forests, 
almost  unbroken,  abounding  in  wolves  and  other  wild  beasts,  extended 
a  day's  journey  in  every  direction.  The  country  was  so  full  of  game 
that  a  hunter  would  sell  a  deer  before  it  was  shot,  appointing  a  day 
for  the  purchaser  to  call  for  the  venison.  The  howling  of  wolves 
could  be  heard  at  the  house  as  they  roamed  about  in  search  of  the 
sheep,  which  the  emigrant  vainly  attempted  to  rear  in  the  wilderness. 
Horace  remained  at  home  for  several  weeks,  helping  his  father  in  his 
work,  fishing  occasionally,  and  nursing  a  lameness,  under  the  care 
of  his  mother,  which  he  had  contracted  in  Vermont.  He  then  took 
a  start  towards  the  East  in  search  of  employment  as  a  printer.  He 
found  work  in  several  places,  but  the  pay  was  poor,  and  he  was  not 
tempted  to  make  a  permanent  engagement.  As  a  last  resort,  he  went 


730  HORACE    GREELEY. 

to  Erie,  at  that  time  a  town  of  five  thousand  inhabitants,  and  with 
extensive  trade  on  the  lake  and  in  the  interior.  After  some  delay  in 
the  early  part  of  1831,  he  obtained  a  situation  in  the  office  of  the  Erie 
Gazette,  and  was  soon  in  high  favor  with  his  employers  and  fellow 
workmen.  He  was  considered  a  remarkably  correct  compositor, 
though  not  a  rapid  one,  but  his  steady  devotion  to  his  work  enabled 
him  to  accomplish  more  than  faster  hands.  He  was  soon  employed 
as  a  regular  journeyman,  at  the  usual  wages  of  fifteen  dollars  a  month 
and  board.  All  the  intervals  of  labor  were  spent  in  reading.  More 
and  more  he  became  absorbed  in  politics.  He  could  tell  the  -name 
and  post-office  address  of  every  member  of  Congress,  with  something 
of  his  political  character  and  history.  He  recalled  the  details  of 
every  important  election  that  had  occurred  within  his  memory,  even, 
in  some  instances,  to  the  county  majorities. 

Mr.  Greeley  remained  in  this  position  about  seven  months,  never 
losing  a  day's  work,  living  with  the  most  rigid  economy,  and  devot- 
ing the  greater  part  of  his  modest  earnings  to  the  aid  of  his  father, 
\vho  was  struggling  for  the  support" of  his  family  in  the  wilderness. 
He  retained  only  twenty-five  dollars  of  his  wages  for  himself,  and 
with  this  sum  in  his  pocket,  he  determined  to  seek  his  fortune  in  a 
wider  sphere.  After  a  short  visit  at  home,  he  tied  up  his  scanty 
stock  of  clothing  in  a  bundle,  and  set  his  face  toward  the  city  of  New 
York.  The  summer  was  now  at  its  height.  The  roads  were  choked 
up  with  dust,  and  the  weather  was  intensely  hot.  He  started  on  foot, 
intending  to  pay  a  visit  to  a  friend,  who  lived  about  forty  miles  west 
of  Rochester.  On  the  journey  he  was  almost  parched  with  thirst, 
and  the  hard  water  of  that  region,  which  he  was  compelled  to  drink 
abundantly,  seemed  before  night  to  cover  his  mouth  and  throat  with 
scales,  and  made  him  long  for  a  draught  from  the  sweet  wells  or 
springs  of  New  England. 

He  remained  with  his  friend  about  twenty-four  hours,  and  then 
walked  down  to  the  Erie  canal  to  wait  for  a  boat.  Night  came  on, 
with  no  appearance  of  any  boat,  and  after  lingering  until  nearly  mid- 
night, the  young  traveler  started  on  the  tow-path,  and  walked  through 
the  darkness  about  fifteen  miles  to  Brockport.  He  narrowly  escaped 
being  swept  into  the  canal  by  the  tow-line  of  the  boats  going  west; 
but  towards  morning  he  was  overtaken  by  a  boat,  in  the  right  di- 
rection, and  gladly  went  on  board.  The  passage  to  Albany  took 
nearly  three  days,  and  losing  the  regular  morning  boat  for  New  Yorlc 
he  engaged  a  berth  in  a  tow-boat,  and  in  twenty  hours  gained  his  first 
view  of  the  great  metropolis.  This  was  just  at  sunrise  on  the  morn- 
ing of  Friday,  August  lyth,  1831.  His  stock  of  cash  was  now  reduced 
to  ten  dollars,  and  all  the  rest  of  his  personal  property  was  in  the 
pocket-handkerchief  in  which  he  carried  his  summer  clothes.  He 
had  no  friend  nor  acquaintance  in  the  vast  city.  He  had  not  even 
a  letter  of  introduction,  nor  a  certificate  of  his  skill  as  a  printer.  His 
decidedly  rustic  manner  and  address  were  not  in  his  favor.  His 


SEEKING     WORK     IN     NEW     YORK.  731 

general  appearance  was  not  prepossessing  to  strangers,  and  he  had 
none  of  the  arts  with  which  so  many  are  accustomed  to  push  their 
way  in  a  new  position.  A  keen  observer  might  indeed  have  detected 
signs  of  promise  in  the  overgrown  boy  who  stood  before  him  in  his 
round  jacket,  and  received  a  favorable  impression  from  the  noble 
contour  of  his  brow  and  the  youthful  beauty  of  his  face.  But  to 
most  persons,  nothing  was  apparent  but  an  unmistakable  air  of  rural 
verdancy  and  an  ignorance  of  the  ways  of  the  world,  which  could 
not  but  be  looked  upon  with  a  certain  degree  of  suspicion. 

The  first  business  of  the  new-comer  was  to  find  a  cheap  boarding- 
house.  For  this  purpose  he  sallied  up  Broad  street,  and  near  the 
corner  of  Wall  spied  out  a  second-rate  tavern,  which  seemed  to  him 
suitable  to  his  slender  finances.  Upon  inquiring  the  price  of  board 
at  the  bar,  he  was  dismayed  at  finding  it  not  less  than  six  dollars  a 
week,  and  at  once  set  out  on  a  new  quest.  He  now  wandered  into 
West  street,  along  the  wharves  of  the  North  River,  a  quarter  of  the 
city  more  remarkable  for  bustle  and  noise  than  for  refinement  and 
elegance,  and  soon  found  a  house  of  humble  pretensions,  on  which 
the  sign  of  "  boarding  "  attracted  his  notice.  It  was  indeed  a  squalid 
edifice,  but  the  cheapness  of  its  entertainment  made  up  for  the  defi- 
ciency of  its  accommodations.  The  price  of  room  and  board  was 
only  $2.50  a  week;  Horace  eagerly  accepted  the  terms,  and  was  soon 
seated  at  the  breakfast  table  in  the  bosom  of  the  family.  As  it  was 
Friday,  no  meat  was  provided  by  the  Roman  Catholic  host,  an  <v- 
rangement  at  which  the  new  inmate  of  the  household  was  not  disposed 
to  demur ;  but  when  Sunday  evening  was  celebrated  by  general  card- 
playing  among  the  guests,  his  rustic  traditions  received  a  violent 
shock. 

After  his  frugal  breakfast  of  salt-fish  and  potatoes,  he  strolled  out 
in  pursuit  of  work.  In  his  ignorance  of  the  city,  he  traversed  many 
streets  in  which  a  printing  office  could  by  no  possibility  be  found. 
During  that  day  and  the  next,  however,  he  discovered  the  favorite 
haunts  of  the  craft,  and  visited  fully  two  thirds  of  them  without  the 
faintest  gleam  of  success.  Among  other  places,  he  called  at  the 
Journal  of  Commerce  office,  when  the  editor  of  the  paper — the  late 
distinguished  David  Hale — after  coolly  surveying  his  person  from  head 
to  foot,  pronounced  him  a  runaway  apprentice  from  the  country,  and 
advised  him  to  go  home  to  his  master. 

He  passed  the  week  walking  many  weary  miles  in  this  fruitless 
search,  and  returned  to  his  lodgings  on  Saturday  evening,  thoroughly 
disgusted  with  New  York.  He  resolved  to  shake  off  its  dust  from 
his  feet  the  next  Monday  morning,  while  he  could  still  make  his  es- 
cape with  a  pittance  of  money  in  his  pocket. 

Still, his  desolate  prospects  did  not  cloud  the  cheerful  sunshine  of 
his  Sunday's  rest.  He  arose  in  the  morning,  refreshed  in  spirit  ana 
alert  in  purpose,  and,  according  to  his  usual  habit,  went  to  church 
twice.  In  the  morning,  he  induced  a  man  who  lived  in  the  house  to 


732  HORACE     GREELEY. 

accompany  him  to  a  small  Universalist  church,  nearly  three  miles  off, 
and  in  the  evening,  for  the  first  time,  he  found  his  way  to  a  Uni- 
tarian church,  in  which  he  was  delighted  to  hear  an  eloquent  exposi- 
tion of  the  religious  views  which  he  had  cherished  from  his  earliest 
boyhood. 

On  returning  from  church  in  the  forenoon,  he  met  with  several 
young  Irishmen,  who  had  called  at  the  house  in  their  saunterings 
about  town,  who,  on  hearing  that  he  was  a  printer-lad  in  pursuit  of 
work,  became  interested  in  his  behalf  with  the  spontaneous  kindness 
that  is  natural  to  their  race.  One  of  them  gave  him  directions  to  a 
place  where  he  knew  that  journeymen  printers  were  wanted,  and  ad- 
vised him  to  make  application  without  delay. 

He  went  to  the  office  early  the  next  morning,  and  at  once  found 
employment.  The  work  was  of  a  complicated  and  difficult  character. 
It  was  the  composition  of  a  very  small  New  Testament,  in  double 
columns.  The  text  was  thickly  strewn  with  references  by  Greek  and 
other  letters  to  the  notes,  which,  with  the  numerous  italics  and  the 
diminutive  type,  required  all  the  skill  of  an  accomplished  workman. 
The  young  printer  had  never  before  encountered  such  a  curiously 
intricate  piece  of  typography.  Several  men  had  tried  their  hand  at  it 
and  had  given  it  up  after  a  few  hours.  Greeley  worked  steadily 
through  the  day  in  perfect  silence,  and  on  presenting  his  proofs  to 
the  foreman  at  night,  they  were  found  greater  in  amount  and  more 
correct  in  composition  than  had  previously  been  the  case  in  the  prog- 
ress of  the  work.  He  was  now  constantly  employed  upon  it,  work- 
ing from  twelve  to  fourteen  hours  a  day,  and  earning  not  more  than 
six  dollars  a  week.  He  was  often  at  his  case  before  six  in  the  morn- 
ing, and  often  remained  till  nine  in  the  evening — the  first  to  begin  and 
the  last  to  leave.  No  one  but  him  worked  before  breakfast  or  after 
tea.  His  original  and  vigorous  character  soon  made  a  strong  im- 
pression upon  his  fellow-workmen.  He  had  the  habit  of  talking  freely 
while  at  work.  Politics,  religion,  and  all  the  exciting  questions  of 
the  day  became  the  topics  of  earnest  discussion.  His  conversation 
was  vehement  and  positive.  He  maintained  his  opinions  with  un- 
wavering confidence,  which  in  one  of  a  less  genial  temperament, 
might  have  been  regarded  as  arrogance.  His  good  humor,  indeed, 
became  a  proverb  among  his  companions.  He  was  the  most  obliging 
man  in  the  office.  He  was  always  willing  to  lend  his  money,  and,  with 
his  saving  habits,  always  had  money  to  lend. 

The  work  at  length  became  slack  in  the  establishment  in  which  he 
was  first  employed,  and  in  the  month  of  November,  1831,  he  was  com- 
pelled to  discontinue  his  engagement.  He  found  a  situation  in  vari- 
ous printing-offices,  however,  as  a  journeyman  until  the  end  of  1832, 
when  an  opportunity  was  presented  to  him  for  going  into  business  on 
his  own  account,  and,  commencing  his  journalistic  career  in  which 
he  has  since  attained  such  signal  pre-eminence. 

Among  the  acquaintances  which  Mr.  Greeley  had  made  in  various 


BECOMES     EDITOR.  733 

New  York  printing-offices,  was  a  young  man  named  Francis  Story, 
for  whom  he  had  conceived  a  warm  and  devoted  attachment.  Story, 
who  was  only  a  little  older  than  himself,  and  with  scarcely  a  hundred 
dollars  of  capital,  had  made  up  his  mind  to  start  a  printing  establish- 
ment on  a  small  scale,  and  offered  his  young  comrade  a  share  in 
the  enterprise.  He  relied  on  the  patronage  of  a  prominent  broker 
and  dealer  in  lottery  tickets,  who  issued  a  weekly  Bank  Note  Re- 
porter, devoted  in  a  great  measure  to  advertising  his  own  business. 
The  printing  of  this  paper  was  offered  to  the  new  firm.  Story  was 
also  intimate  with  a  young  medical  student  of  the  name  of  Shepard, 
who  had  set  his  heart  upon  the  publication  of  a  cheap  daily  news- 
paper, to  be  sold  about  the  streets  for  a  single  penny.  This  person 
was  desirous  to  secure  the  co-operation  of  Story  in  the  intended  proj- 
ect. The  latter  laid  the  plan  before  Mr.  Greeley,  but  he  hesitated 
about  engaging  in  the  enterprise.  His  means  had  been  reduced  to  a 
small  sum,  as  he  had  devoted  most  of  his  savings  to  the  aid  of  his 
father  in  his  struggle  with  the  wilderness.  But  his  scruples  were  at 
length  removed  by  the  ardent  enthusiasm  of  his  friend.  A  partner- 
ship was  formed,  materials  purchased  on  credit,  and  the  miniature 
office  was  opened  in  due  form.  In  spite  of  the  awkward,  bashful 
ways  of  Horace  Greeley,  which  gave  no  promise  of  pecuniary  success, 
one  of  the  oldest  and  wealthiest  type-founders  in  New  York  furnished 
him  with  the  requisite  outfit,  on  no  security  but  his  personal  obliga- 
tion. It  is  a  curious  circumstance  that  this  purchase  of  less  than 
fifty  dollars  has  since  secured  to  the  worthy  type-founder  the  sale  of 
more  than  $50,000  worth  of  type,  by  giving  him  the  custom  of  the 
Tribune. 

The  proposed  journal,  called  the  Morning  Post,  was  issued  on  the 
first  of  January,  1833,  but  was  sold  at  the  price  of  two  cents  instead 
of  one.  It  was  a  bitter  cold  day,  and  a  furious  snow-storm  was  rag- 
ing in  the  streets.  There  were  few  persons  abroad,  the  newsboys 
became  discouraged,  and  the  new  paper  found  but  a  scanty  sale. 
During  the  first  week  there  was  scarcely  sufficient  demand  to  pay 
the  expenses.  The  sales  diminished  every  day,  and  before  the  mid- 
dle of  the  third  week  the  Morning  Post  had  come  to  an  end.  The 
proprietor  had  few  qualifications  for  his  task.  He  was  neither  a 
writer  nor  a  man  of  affairs.  As  he  was  totally  ignorant  of  the  de- 
tails of  editorship,  the  work  of  preparing  the  numbers  devolved 
chiefly  on  Mr.  Greeley,  and  they  were  brought  out  under  almost 
every  possible  disadvantage. 

In  spite  of  the  failure  of  the  paper,  the  firm  went  on  without  se- 
rious embarrassment.  Its  principal  reliance  was  the  Bank  Note  Re- 
porter, which  afforded  a  small  but  regular  income  to  the  establish- 
ment. A  certain  amount  of  lottery  printing  was  added  to  the  business, 
by  the  managers  of  the  State  lotteries,  and  Mr.  Greeley's  practical 
dexterity  was  called  into  constant  requisition  by  the  setting  up  and 
arranging  of  the  list  of  prizes  and  schemes  of  drawings.  An  article 


734  HORACE    GREELEY. 

in  favor  of  licensing  lotteries  by  the  State,  which  he  wrote  at  this 
time,  attracted  considerable  attention,  though  he  soon  after  changed 
his  opinions  on  the  subject,  and  became  a  strenuous  advocate  of  their 
suppression  by  law. 

Meantime,  he  met  with  a  severe  loss  in  the  death  of  his  partner, 
Mr.  Story,  who  was  drowned  while  bathing  in  the  East  River,  July 
9,  1833.  His  place  in  the  firm  was  supplied  by  Mr.  Jonas  Winches- 
ter; the  business  continued  to  prosper,  and  the  dream  of  editorship 
revived  in  the  heart  of  Horace  Greeley.  In  the  ensuing  spring,  the 
plan  of  a  family  newspaper  was  formed,  and  on  the  22d  of  March, 
1834,  the  first  number  of  the  New  Yorker  was  issued,  without  any 
previous  sound  of  trumpets  to  announce  its  coming.  This  was  a 
large,  handsome  weekly  folio,  afterward  changed  to  a  double  quarto, 
mainly  devoted  to  the  literature  of  the  day,  but  giving  a  regular  digest 
of  important  news,  including  a  summary  of  election  returns  and  other 
political  intelligence.  The  editing  of  this  sheet  devolved  almost  ex- 
clusively on  Mr.  Greeley.  It  was  issued  under  his  immediate  super- 
vision. The  leading  articles  were  written,  and  the  selections  made, 
for  the  most  part,  by  his  own  hand,  during  the  seven  years  and  a 
half  in  which  it  continued  to  be  published.  The  New  Yorker,  at 
that  time,  is  pronounced  by  eminent  authority  to  have  been  the  best 
newspaper  of  its  kind  ever  published  in  this  country.  It  took  no 
side  in  politics,  though  the  editor  could  not  always  conceal  his  ardent 
convictions.  The  tone  of  the  paper,  though  firm  and  decided,  was 
gentle  and  modest.  It  made  the  editor  known  throughout  the  Union, 
and  gained  him  hosts  of  friends.  But  the  journal  never  became 
a  source  of  pecuniary  profit.  Its  circulation  was  large  for  that  day; 
but  it  was  conducted  on  the  credit  system,  and  its  proceeds  were 
swallowed  up  in  bad  debts.  During  the  greater  part  of  its  existence, 
it  afforded  no  support  to  the  editor,  who  was  compelled  to  find  the 
means  of  living  from  some  other  source.  It  at  last  became  neces- 
sary to  suspend  its  publication,  which  was  never  afterwards  resumed. 
This  took  place  in  September,  1841,  about  five  months  after  the  es- 
tablishment of  the  Tribune.  Mr.  Greeley  provided  for  the  reim- 
bursement of  the  subscribers  who  had  paid  in  advance,  while  more 
than  $10,000  of  outstanding  debts  appeared  in  its  books. 

In  1838,  while  still  engaged  in  conducting  the  New  Yorker,  Mr. 
Greeley  undertook  the  editorial  charge  of  the  Jeffersonian,  a  political 
weekly  newspaper,  devoted  to  the  interests  of  the  Whig  party,  and 
published  in  the  city  of  Albany.  Although  intended  as  a  campaign 
paper  for  the  New  York  State  elections  of  that  year,  its  tone  was 
moderate  and  conciliatory.  It  abstained  from  vehement  personal 
abuse  in  its  treatment  of  opponents,  rarely  evincing  a  partisan  spirit, 
and  never  bitterness  of  temper.  The  Jeffersonian,  according  to  its 
original  plan,  continued  in  existence  but  one  year,  and  in  May,  1840, 
the  Log  Cabin  was  established  in  the  interest  of  General  Harrison, 
the  Whig  candidate  for  President  of  the  United  States.  The  man- 


ESTABLISHES     THE    TRIBUNE.  735 

agement  of  this  journal  devolved  upon  Mr.  Greeley,  under  whose 
skillful  editorship  it  soon  gained  a  large  circulation  and  an  unexampled 
degree  of  popularity.  It  established  the  reputation  of  the  editor  as 
a  writer  of  signal  courage  and  ability,  a  wise  and  sagacious  politician, 
and  a  man  of  large  humanity  and  rare  firmness  and  elevation  of  moral 
principle.  After  a  career  of  about  eighteen  months,  the  Log  Cabin 
was  finally  merged  in  the  Tribune,  the  celebrated  daily  journal,  with 
which  Mr.  Greeley's  name  is  completely  identified,  and  for  which 
all  his  previous  newspaper  enterprises  had  served  as  an  admirable 
preparation. 

The  first  number  of  the  New  York  Tribune  was  issued  on  the  loth 
of  April,  1841.  It  was  a  day  of  gloomy  omens.  The  weather  was 
unseasonably  chilly,  with  a  storm  of  sleet  and  snow,  and  the  funeral 
ceremonies  of  President  Harrison,  whose  sudden  death  had  taken 
place  six  days  before,  enhanced  the  sombre  character  of  the  scene. 
The  prospects  of  the  new  journal  seemed  to  be  in  accordance  with 
the  cheerless  aspect  of  the  day.  It  had  no  presses,  no  capital,  no 
ample  staff  of  assistants,  no  troops  of  friends  to  bear  it  up  with  their 
good  wishes  or  substantial  aid.  Of  the  first  number,  five  thousand 
copies  were  printed,  with  a  list  of  five  hundred  subscribers,  and  most 
of  them  which  would  not  sell  were  given  away.  For  the  first  week, 
the  current  expenses  far  exceeded  the  income,  nor  was  the  paper  es- 
tablished on  a  sound  financial  basis,  until  the  accession  of  Mr. 
Thomas  McElrath  as  a  partner,  who  undertook  the  sole  charge  of 
the  publishing  department.  From  that  time,  the  course  of  the 
Tribune  has  been  one  of  constantly  increasing  prosperity.  It  has 
possessed  an  exhaustless  source  of  vitality  in  the  character  of  its  edi- 
tor, and  in  return  has  crowned  his  name  with  the  brilliant  reputation 
that  has  made  him  a  man  of  mark  among  the  celebrities  of  the  age. 
His  position  in  regard  to  the  journal  for  which  he  cherishes  the  affec- 
tion of  a  parent  for  his  child  is  best  described  in  his  own  words : 
"Fame  is  a  vapor;  popularity  an  accident;  riches  take  wings;  the 
only  earthly  certainty  is  oblivion ;  no  man  can  foresee  what  a  day 
may  bring  forth;  while  those  who  cheer  to-day  will  often  curse  to- 
morrow ;  and  yet  I  cherish  the  hope  that  the  journal  I  projected  and 
established  will  live  and  flourish  long  after  I  shall  have  moldered 
into  forgotten  dust,  being  guided  by  a  larger  wisdom,  a  more  uner- 
ring sagacity  to  discern  the  right,  though  not  by  a  more  unfaltering 
readiness  to  embrace  and  defend  it  at  whatever  personal  cost ;  and 
that  the  stone  which  covers  my  ashes  may  bear  to  future  ages  the 
still  intelligible  inscription,  'Founder  of  the  New  York  Tribune.'  ' 

The  peculiar  opinions,  and  even  the  personal  idiosyncrasies  of  Mr. 
Greeley,  have  found  their  most  expressive  illustration  in  the  columns 
of  that  journal.  He  has  been  prominent  as  an  advocate  of  the  most 
rigid  forms  of  temperance  in  eating  and  drinking.  At  an  early  age, 
as  we  have  seen,  he  foreswore  the  use  of  all  intoxicating  liquors,  and 
has  ever  since  remained  faithful  to  the  pledge.  Nor  has  he  been 


736  HORACE     GREELEY. 

lukewarm  in  enforcing  his  own  example  upon  the  adoption  of  others. 
In  1832  he  became  a  partial  convert  to  the  views  of  Sylvester  Gra- 
ham, a  popular  lecturer  on  dietetics,  who  maintained  that  the  people 
of  the  United  States  were  in  the  habit  of  taking  too  concentrated 
food.  Mr.  Greeley  never  went  so  far  as  to  discontinue  the  use  of 
meat,  although  he  believes  that  a  superior  diet  might  be  found  in 
sound,  unbolted  grain,  ripe  and  fresh  fruits,  and  a  variety  of  vegeta- 
bles, with  a  moderate  use  of  milk,  butter  and  cheese,  and  but  little 
of  spices  or  condiments. 

Another  conspicuous  movement  which  engaged  the  attention  of 
Mr.  Greeley,  and  which  has  been  from  time  to  time  defended  in  the 
columns  of  the  Tribune,  is  the  plan  for  improving  the  condition 
of  the  laboring  classes  by  the  better  organization  of  industry.  Mr. 
Greeley  believes  in  the  adequacy  of  capital  to  supply  employment, 
and,  hence,  that  in  a  true  society  there  need  be  no  able-bodied  pau- 
pers. In  his  opinion,  the  productive  power  of  labor  is  greatly  dim- 
inished by  a  radical  defect  in  our  present  social  arrangements.  The 
different  classes  are  in  a  state  of  antagonism  with  each  other,  and 
the  consequence  is  what  may  be  called  a  condition  of  social  anarchy. 
The  energies  of  men  are  wasted  in  providing  safeguards  against  roguery 
and  crime.  Labor  loses  much  of  its  effect  by  bad  management,  imper- 
fect implements,  and  the  want  of  the  most  powerful  machinery.  There 
is  also  great  waste  in  consumption.  It  takes  a  thousand  fires  and  a 
thousand  cooks  to  prepare  the  food  of  a  village,  when  a  dozen  fires 
and  a  hundred  cooks  would  do  it  far  better  in  a  scientific  combina- 
tion of  families.  Mr.  Greeley  argues,  moreover,  that  every  child 
should  be  trained  to  skill  in  productive  industry,  as  well  as  in  letters 
and  science.  He  should  be  made  familiar  with  the  action  of  machinery 
and  the  processes  of  the  useful  arts.  These  ends,  he  believes,  can 
be  best  attained  in  a  well  organized  association,  and  not  in  the  pres- 
ent methods  of  isolated  industry.  While,  therefore,  the  Tribune 
has  been  devoted  to  the  support  of  social  and  industrial  co-operation, 
it  has  lent  no  countenance  to  the  theories  of  communism,  or  any 
plan  of  social  reform  in  which  the  individual  is  lost  in  the  supremacy 
of  the  mass. 

On  the  subject  of  slavery, Mr.  Greeley,  from  his  earliest  boyhood, 
shared  in  the  sentiment  which  prompted  the  memorable  utterance  of 
President  Lincoln:  "I  am  naturally  anti-slavery.  If  slavery  is  not 
wrong,  then  nothing  is  wrong.  I  can  not  remember  when  I  did  not 
so  think  and  feel."  When  only  a  child  of  seven  to  ten  years  of  age, 
he  eagerly  devoured  every  thing  he  could  find  on  the  progress  of  the 
great  Missouri  struggle,  and  intensely  sympathized  with  the  North 
in  her  effort  to  prevent  the  admission  of  Missouri  as  a  slave  State. 
At  the  commencement  of  the  Abolition  movement,  however,  he  took 
no  part  with  the  agitators.  He  could  not  perceive  the  tendency  of 
their  efforts  towards  the  achievement  of  their  end.  Hence, he  never 
became  a  member  of  an  Abolition  society,  and  rarely  found  time  to 


HIS     EXPERIENCES     IN     EUROPE.  737 

attend  an  Abolition  meeting.  Warmly  devoted  to  the  Whig  party, 
he  deprecated  the  effect  of  the  Abolition  movement  in  politics,  per- 
suaded that  it  would  weaken  the  only  great  national  organization 
which  presented  the  prospect  of  resistance  to  the  aggressions  of  the 
slave  power.  It  was  not  until  after  the  defeat  of  Henry  Clay,  as  a 
candidate  for  the  presidency,  of  whom  Mr.  Greeley  had  been  a  most 
enthusiastic  and  effective  advocate,  and  the  election  of  Polk  and 
Dallas,  in  1844,  that  the  Tribune  engaged  in  the  anti-slavery 
warfare.  Its  position  was  clearly  explained  in  the  language  of  the 
editor:  "When  we  find  the  Union  on  the  brink  of  a  most  unjust 
and  rapacious  war,  instigated  wholly  (as  is  officially  proclaimed)  by 
a  determination  to  uphold  and  fortify  slavery,  then  we  do  not  see 
how  it  can  longer  be  rationally  disputed  that  the  North  has  much, 
very  much,  to  do  with  slavery.  If  we  may  be  drawn  into  fight  for  it, 
it  would  be  hard,  indeed,  that  we  should  not  be  allowed  to  talk  of  it." 
But  the  limits  of  this  brief  sketch  forbid  us  dwelling  at  greater  length 
on  the  political  career  of  Mr.  Greeley,  and  we  resume  the  personal 
narrative  as  of  greater  interest  to  the  readers  for  whom  the  present 
volume  is  chiefly  intended. 

In  the  month  of  April,  1851,  Mr.  Greeley  made  a  short  visit  in 
Europe,  for  the  purpose  mainly  of  attending  the  World's  Fair,  in  the 
Crystal  Palace.  He  arrived  in  Liverpool,  after  an  intensely  disa- 
greeable voyage,  the  misery  of  which  he  compared  to  two  months'  hard 
labor  in  the  State  Prison,  under  sullen  skies  and  a  pouring  rain.  Liver- 
pool impressed  him  unfavorably.  The  English  sun  he  could  not  recog- 
nize as  the  same  object  to  which  that  name  is  applied  in  America.  Hav- 
ing been  appointed  as  a  member  of  one  of  the  juries  of  the  World's 
Fair,  he  devoted  a  large  part  of  every  day,  while  he  remained  in 
London,  to  the  laborious  and  thankless  duties  of  that  office.  The 
sights  of  the  great  British  metropolis  made  but  a  slight  impression  on 
his  mind.  He  describes  Hampton  Court  as  larger  than  the  Astor 
House,  but  less  lofty  and  containing  fewer  rooms.  Westminster  Abbey 
was  only  a  barbaric  profusion  of  stained  windows,  groined  arches,  and 
all  manner  of  costly  and  wasteful  architecture.  The  intoning  of  the 
ritual,  which  was  then  coming  into  fashion,  sounded  like  a  caricature 
of  the  Yankee  drawl  in  a  Methodist  pulpit.  He  declined  attending 
the  Epsom  races,  through  unwillingness  to  come  in  contact  with  the 
sporting  men  and  swindlers  whom  that  occasion  calls  together.  But 
he  was  deeply  affected  by  the  want  and  misery  displayed  at  the 
Ragged  Schools,  and  vehemently  expressed  his  regret  that  "he  had 
hitherto  said  too  little,  done  too  little,  dared  too  little,  sacrificed  too 
little  to  awaken  attention  to  the  infernal  wrongs  and  abuses  that  are 
inherent  in  the  very  structure  and  essence  of  civilized  society,  as  it 
now  exists  throughout  Christendom." 

After  a  residence  of  nearly  two  months  in  London,  Mr.  Greeley 
took  his  departure  for  Paris.  He  remained  only  eight  days  in  the 
gay  capital  of  France,  which  he  by  no  means  found  in  accordance 
47 


738  HORACE     GREELEY. 

with  his  habitual  tastes.  At  the  opera  he  saw  only  "a  medley  of 
drinking,  praying,  dancing  idol-worship  and  Delilah-craft  such  as 
he  had  never  before  encountered."  The  French  people  impressed 
him  as  intelligent  and  courteous,  but,  at  the  same  time,  as  sensual 
and  irreverent.  There  were  thousands  in  Paris  who  could  die  for 
liberty,  but  no  class  that  could  comprehend  the  idea  of  the  temper- 
ance pledge. 

From  Paris  he  started  for  Lyons,  crossing  the  Alps  to  Turin,  and 
spending  about  three  weeks  in  Genoa,  Pisa,  Florence,  Bologna, 
Venice,  Milan,  and  Rome.  The  poetical  element  in  the  Eternal  City 
presented  strong  attractions  to  his  mind.  He  passed  most  of  his  time 
in  the  galleries  of  Art.  The  Coliseum  fully  equaled  the  descriptions 
with  which  he  was  familar,  but  St.  Peter's,  which  he  calls  the  Niagara 
of  churches,  was,  at  first  view,  a  disappointment. 

After  a  rapid  journey  through  Switzerland,  Germany,  Belgium,  and 
the  north-eastern  part  of  France,  he  returned  to  London.  In  Swit- 
zerland he  was  struck  with  the  thrift  and  contentment  of  the  people. 
He  saw  no  beggar,  and  was  cheated  by  no  official.  The  Germans 
were  greatly  to  his  liking,  by  their  good  humor,  their  kindly,  unos- 
tentatious manners,  and  their  mutual  deference  and  respect.  He 
nowhere  saw  the  signs  of  chronic  aristocracy  but  in  England. 
Although  he  did  not  wholly  admire  her  grave  and  stately  people,  he 
found  much  to  commend  in  their  character.  He  highly  appreciated 
their  industry,  their  method,  their  practical  sense,  and  the  domestic 
virtues  of  the  women.  The  comfort  and  warmth  of  the  English  fire- 
side were  a  perpetual  charm.  Mr.  Greeley  returned  from  Europe  in 
August,  and  at  once  engaged  in  his  usual  routine  of  editorial  and 
political  toil. 

After  an  interval  of  four  years,  he  made  a  second  visit  to  Europe 
in  1855,  remaining  abroad  about  three  months.  His  previous  im- 
pressions were  confirmed  by  his  new  experience.  Six  weeks  in  Paris 
afforded  him  the  nearest  approach  to  leisure  which  he  had  enjoyed 
for  thirty  years. 

In  1859  he  put  in  execution  a  purpose  which  he  had  long  cherished, 
of  making  a  journey  across  the  continent,  and  forming  a  personal 
acquaintance  with  the  region  of  the  Pacific.  He  was  deeply  impressed 
with  the  majestic  promise  that  impels  the  Anglo-Saxon  race  toward 
the  shores  of  that  mighty  sea.  Another  extensive  journey  in  the 
south-western  quarter  of  the  Union  was  performed  in  the  month  of 
May,  1871,  which  gave  him  a  gratifying  opportunity  of  meeting  with 
a  large  portion  of  his  countrymen  to  whom  his  name  had  been  long 
familiar,  but  who  had  hitherto  been  strangers  to  his  person. 

A  prominent  feature  in  Mr.  Greeley's  character  is  his  fondness  for 
rural  life  and  rural  pursuits.  He  says  of  himself  that  he  should  have 
been  a  farmer.  His  younger  days  were  spent  in  its  peaceful  occupa- 
tions, and  his  maturer  tastes  have  given  him  a  keen  relish  for  the 
calling.  If  he  were  to  begin  his  life  anew,  he  would  choose  to  earn 


c 
9 
- 


TRANSFERS     RESIDENCE     TO     CHAPPAQUA.  739 

his  bread  by  the  cultivation  of  the  soil.  After  passing  twenty  years 
in  the  city,  he  determined  to  seek  a  quiet  retreat  in  the  country  for 
himself  and  his  family.  He  chose  for  his  new  home  a  rocky,  wooded 
hillside,  near  the  little  village  of  Chappaqua,  about  thirty-five  miles 
north-east  of  New  York.  The  farm,  consisting  of  seventy-five  acres, 
one  third  of  which  is  forest,  has  the  advantage  of  an  unrivaled  spring 
of  pure  and  living  water,  and  a  brawling  brook  which  rushes  down 
from  its  source  in  granite  hills. 

On  coming  into  possession  of  his  farm,  in  1851,  Mr.  Greeley's 
first  business  was  to  shut  cattle  out  of  the  woods,  where  they  had 
roamed  at  will  for  untold  years.  His  own  special  department  in  the 
labors  of  the  farm  is  the  care  of  the  woods.  Every  Saturday  that  he 
can  command  is  devoted  to  the  ax  and  pruning-knife.  He  began 
his  career  as  forester  by  cutting  out  the  witch-hazels  and  trimming  up 
the  trees,  especially  the  hemlocks.  Many  of  these  he  has  trimmed 
to  the  height  of  fifty  feet,  climbing  the  rugged  trunks  with  the  activity 
of  a  school-boy.  The  young  orchards,  which  he  has  planted  with 
his  own  hands,  are  in  a  state  of  healthy  bearing.  The  arable  por- 
tions of  his  farm  have  been  improved  by  -removing  rock  and  stone, 
systematic  underdraining,  deep  plowing,  and  the  liberal  use  of 
artificial  and  mineral  manures,  as  well  as  compost  from  the  peat-bog 
and  barn-yard.  It  now  produces  excellent  crops  of  Indian  corn, 
oats,  turnips,  and  especially  of  grass,  with  occasional  harvests  of  spring- 
wheat. 

Mr.  Greeley  was  married,  in  1836,  to  Mary  Cheney,  a  native  of 
Connecticut,  with  whom  he  had  become  acquainted  while  boarding 
at  the  Graham  House  in  New  York.  She  was  a  lady  of  superior  in- 
tellect and  admirable  accomplishments,  cherishing  a  strong  interest 
in  the  reforms  to  which  Mr.  Greeley  has  devoted  so  large  a  portion 
of  his  life.  In  pursuance  of  her  vocation  as  a  teacher,  she  was  at 
that  time  residing  in  the  State  of  North  Carolina,  where  the  wedding 
took  place.  For  eight  years  after  his  marriage,  Mr.  Greeley  continued 
to  live  in  the  busiest  quarter  of  New  York  city,  always  within 
half  a  mile  of  the  City  Hall.  At  the  end  of  that  time,  he  turned 
his  face  toward  the  country,  and  removed  to  a  spacious  wooden 
house,  which  since  the  death  of  its  previous  owner,  had  greatly  fallen 
from  its  ancient  state,  and  was  then  in  a  state  of  decay.  It  was  sit- 
uated on  the  East  River,  nearly  opposite  the  southern  point  of  Black- 
well's  Island,  with  eight  acres  of  ground,  including  a  wooded  ravine, 
numerous  shade  and  fruit  trees,  abundant  shrubbery,  and  an  ample 
garden.  The  location  was  so  secluded  that  the  house  could  be 
reached  only  by  a  narrow  private  lane,  and,  with  no  gas-lights,  was 
exceedingly  dark  at  night.  Accustomed  to  the  tumult  of  the  large 
city,  Mr.  Greeley  at  first  found  the  silence  so  unearthly  and  appalling 
that  he  could  scarcely  sleep  on  his  return  from  the  labors  of  the  day 
at  his  office.  The  house-keeping  was  in  a  style  of  more  than  primi- 
tive simplicity.  In  accordance  with  the  principles  of  Graham,  which 


740  HORACE    GREELEY. 

were  even  more  rigidly  followed  by  Mrs.  Greeley  than  her  husband, 
the  diet  consisted  chiefly  of  beans  and  potatoes,  boiled  rice,  bread 
and  butter,  with  no  condiment  but  salt,  and  none  of  the  unwhole- 
some dainties  that  tempt  a  sickly  appetite  in  fashionable  life.  Tea 
and  coffee  were  strictly  prohibited,  even  in  the  most  homeopathic 
dilutions. 

It  was  during  Mr.  Greeley's  residence  in  this  house  that  Margaret 
Fuller  became  an  inmate  of  his  family.  His  friendship  for  this  re- 
markable woman  was  an  interesting  portion  of  his  experience,  and  in 
the  highest  degree  honorable  to  the  character  of  both  parties.  Dur- 
ing a  residence  of  some  weeks,  for  several  successive  seasons,  in  the 
vicinity  of  Boston,  Mrs.  Greeley  had  formed  an  intimate  acquaint- 
ance with  Margaret,  and  conceived  for  her  an  ardent  attachment. 
This  led  to  her  engagement  in  the  literary  department  of  the  Tribune, 
the  duties  of  which  she  performed  with  signal  ability  for  nearly 
two  years.  Mr.  Greeley  regarded  her  as,  in  some  respects,  the  great- 
est woman  whom  America  has  yet  known,  while  she,  on  her  part, 
fully  appreciated  the  rare  traits  of  character  which  have  given  him  so 
marked  an  influence  among  his  contemporaries.  "  Mr.  Greeley,"  she 
wrote  to  a  friend,  "is  a  man  of  genuine  excellence,  honorable,  be- 
nevolent, and  of  uncorrupted  disposition.  He  is  sagacious,  and,  in  his 
way,  of  even  great  abilities.  In  modes  of  life  and  manner  he  is  a 
man  of  the  people,  and  of  the  American  people.  With  the  exception 
of  my  own  mother,  I  think  him  the  most  generously  disinterested 
person  I  have  ever  known. ' ' 

In  the  summer  of  1849,  Mr.  Greeley  experienced  a  great  sorrow, 
which  has  left  a  vein  of  tender  sadness  in  his  subsequent  life.  This 
was  the  death  of  his  only  son,  in  the  sixth  year  of  his  age,  a  child  of 
wonderful  gifts  and  singular  promise.  As  described  by  his  father, 
this  marvelous  boy  was  a  model  of  juvenile  beauty — a  beauty  not 
merely  physical,  but  visibly  radiating  from  the  soul,  and  to  which  in 
visiting  the  Italian  galleries,  a  year  or  two  later,  he  could  find  no 
parallel.  His  hair  was  of  the  richest  and  finest  gold.  "  The  sunshine 
of  picture  "  never  glorified  its  equal.  The  delicacy  of  his  complexion 
attracted  the  admiration  of  observers,  who  had  traversed  both  hemis- 
pheres without  seeing  a  child  who  could  be  compared  to  this  one.  He 
displayed  a  peculiar  wisdom  beyond  his  years ;  his  arch  sayings  are 
treasured  in  the  memory;  while  the  sunny  brightness  of  his  disposi- 
tion was  the  charm  of  the  friendly  circle  that  were  drawn  to  the  rural 
residence  of  the  family,  no  less  by  their  admiration  of  the  son  than 
by  their  regard  for  his  parents.  On  the  i2th  of  July,  one  of  the 
hottest  midsummer  days  of  our  climate,  this  precious  object  of  such 
fond  affection  and  of  such  sanguine  hopes  was  stricken  by  the  cholera 
about  one  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  at  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon 
had  yielded  to  the  power  of  the  subtle  epidemic.  He  was  entirely 
sane  and  conscious  till  near  the  last,  with  little  or  no  pain,  and  with 
no  indication  that  his  end  was  so  near  at  hand.  "  When  at  length," 


CANDIDATE     FOR     THE     PRESIDENCY.  74! 

says  Mr.  Greeley,  "  the  struggle  ended  with  his  last  breath,  and  even 
his  mother  was  convinced  that  his  eyes  would  never  again  open  on 
the  scenes  of  this  world,  I  knew  that  the  summer  of  my  life  was 
over,  that  the  chill  breath  of  its  autumn  was  at  hand,  and  that  my 
future  course  must  be  along  the  downhill  of  life." 

We  close  our  narrative  with  the  nomination  of  Mr.  Greeley  as  can- 
didate for  the  presidency  of  the  United  States  by  the  Cincinnati 
Convention,  in  May  of  the  present  year.  As  it  has  been  our  aim  in 
the  preceding  sketch  to  illustrate  the  personal  qualities  of  Mr.  Greeley, 
by  which  he  has  overcome  the  force  of  circumstances,  and  risen  to 
the  rank  of  one  of  the  foremost  American  citizens,  rather  than  to 
exhibit  an  analysis  of  his  political  career,  or  to  engage  in  the  dis- 
cussion of  his  political  views,  we  simply  record  the  event  without 
superfluous  comment. 

Mr.  Greeley,  although  now  entering  upon  the  decline  of  life, 
evinces  no  diminution  of  physical  or  intellectual  strength.  His 
habits  of  rigid  temperance  have  been  favorable  to  the  preservation  of 
his  powers,  and  enabled  him  to  accomplish  an  amount  of  labor  at 
which,  in  most  cases,  the  most  strenuous  industry  would  stand  appalled. 
In  addition  to  his  unceasing  toil  as  a  daily  journalist,  he  has  written 
several  elaborate  volumes  which  attest  the  variety  of  his  attainments, 
.the  extent  of  his  literary  culture,  and  the  persistence  of  his  mental 
activity.  Among  the  productions  of  his  pen  are  several  poems,  most 
of  them  composed  at  an  early  age,  which  betray  a  liveliness  of  im- 
agination, and  a  sense  of  rhythmical  harmony,  that  are  rarely  found 
in  union  with  talents  and  tastes  of  so  decidedly  practical  a  cast.  For 
himself,  however,  he  disdains  all  pretensions  to  the  character  of  a 
poet,  and  prefers  to  rest  his  fame  on  the  utility  of  his  writings.  His 
true  position  among  his  countrymen  is  that  which  we  have  endeavored 
to  illustrate  in  the  present  memoir,  as  an  example  of  the  conquest  of 
difficulties  by  force  of  character.  The  lesson  of  his  life  is  the  lesson 
of  self-reliance  and  self-help  as  the  great  conditions  of  success. 

[NOTE. — The  writer  of  the  preceding  memoir  acknowledges  his  obligations  to 
the  "  Life  of  Horace  Greeley,"  by  James  Parton,  and  to  Mr.  Greeley's  "  Recollec- 
tions of  a  Busy  Life,"  for  the  facts  on  which  his  narrative  is  founded. 


PART   III. 


MEN  OF  THE  PEOPLE 


WHO   BECAME 


PUBLIC  BENEFACTORS. 


JOHN  FREDERICK  OBERLIN. 


THE  individual  whose  entertaining  and  most  instructive  life  we 
now  bring  to  the  notice  of  the  reader,  is  a  remarkable  exempli- 
fication of  the  good  which  an  actively  benevolent  person  may  some- 
times accomplish,  in  a  particular  locality,  under  the  most  disadvan- 
tageous circumstances. 

Oberlin  was  a  native  of  Strasbourg,  and,  after  being  educated  as  a 
Lutheran  clergyman,  was  appointed,  in  1767,  when  twenty-seven 
years  o(  age,  to  the  Cure  of  Waldbach,  in  the  Ban  de  la  Roche,  a 
high  and  sterile  valley  in  Alsace.  His  mind  was  animated  with  the 
most  ardent  desire  of  usefulness,  not  only  in  his  profession,  but  in 
many  other  respects;  and  greatly  did  his  parish  need  the  attentions 
of  such  a  philanthropist.  The  whole  valley  afforded  subsistence,  and 
that  of  the  most  wretched  kind,  for  only  about  a  hundred  families, 
who  were  a  race  of  rude  and  ignorant  rustics,  cut  off  by  their  pecul- 
iar dialect,  as  well  as  by  the  inaccessibility  of  their  situation,  from 
all  the  rest  of  mankind.  The  husbandmen  were  destitute  of  the 
commonest  implements,  and  had  no  means  of  procuring  them ;  they 
had  no  knowledge  of  agriculture  beyond  the  routine  practices  of  their 
forefathers;  they  were  ground  down  and  irritated  by  a  hateful  feudal 
service.  He  devoted  himself  to  the  correction  of  these  evils,  at  the 
same  time  that  he  labored  in  his  spiritual  vocation.  The  people  at 
first  did  not  comprehend  his  plans  or  appreciate  his  motives.  Igno- 
rance is  always  suspicious.  They  resolved,  with  the  dogged  perti- 
nacity with  which  the  uneducated  of  all  ranks  cling  to  the  rubbish 
of  old  customs,  not  to  submit  to  innovations. 

The  peasants  agreed  on  one  occasion  to  waylay  and  beat  him,  and 
on  another  to  duck  him  in  a  cistern.  He  boldly  confronted  them, 
and  subdued  their  hearts  by  courageous  mildness.  But  he  did  more ; 
he  gave  up  exhorting  the  people  to  pursue  their  real  interests ;  he 
practically  showed  them  the  vast  benefits  which  competent  knowl- 
edge and  well-directed  industry  would  procure  for  them. 

These   mountaineers  in  many   respects   were  barbarians ;    and  he 


746  JOHN     FREDERICK     OBERLIN. 

resolved  to  civilize  them,  as  all  savages  are  civilized,  by  bringing  them 
into  contact  with  more  enlightened  communities.  The  Ban  de  la 
Roche  had  no  roads.  The  few  passes  in  the  mountains  were  con- 
stantly broken  up  by  the  torrents,  or  obstructed  by  the  loosened 
earth  which  fell  from  the  overhanging  rocks.  The  river  Bruche, 
which  flows  through  the  Canton,  had  no  bridge  but  one  of  stepping 
stones.  Within  a  few  miles  of  this  isolated  district  was  Strasbourg, 
abounding  in  wealth  and  knowledge,  and  in  all  the  refinements  of 
civilization.  He  determined  to  open  a  regular  communication  be- 
tween the  Ban  de  la  Roche  and  that  city;  to  find  there  a  market  for 
the  produce  of  his  own  district,  and  to  bring  thence  in  exchange 
new  comforts  and  new  means  of  improvement.  He  assembled  the 
people,  explained  his  objects,  and  proposed  that  they  should  blast  the 
rocks  to  make  a  wall,  a  mile  and  a  half  in  length,  to  support  a  road 
by  the  river,  over  which  a  bridge  must  also  be  made.  The  peas- 
ants one  and  all  declared  the  thing  was  impossible,  and  every  one 
excused  himself  from  engaging  in  such  an  unreasonable  scheme. 
Oberlin  exhorted  them,  reasoned  with  them,  appealed  to  them  as 
husbands  and  fathers,  but  in  vain.  He  at  last  threw  a  pickax  upon 
his  shoulder  and  went  to  work  himself,  assisted  by  a  trusty  servant. 
He  had  soon  the  support  of  fellow-laborers.  He  regarded  not  the 
thorns  by  which  his  hands  were  torn,  nor  the  loose  stones  which  fell 
from  the  rocks  and  bruised  them.  His  heart  was  in  the  work,  and 
no  difficulty  could  stop  him.  He  devoted  his  own  little  property  to 
the  undertaking ;  he  raised  subscriptions  among  his  old  friends,  and 
tools  were  bought  for  all  who  were  willing  to  use  them. 

On  the  Sunday  the  good  pastor  labored  in  his  calling  as  a  teacher 
of  sacred  truths;  but  on  Monday  he  rose  with  the  sun  to  his  work 
of  practical  benevolence,  and,  marching  at  the  head  of  two  hundred 
of  his  flock,  went  with  renewed  vigor  to  his  conquest  over  the  natural 
obstacles  to  the  civilization  of  the  district.  In  three  years  the  road 
was  finished,  the  bridge  was  built,  and  the  communication  with  Stras- 
bourg was  established.  The  ordinary  results  of  intercourse  between 
a  poor  and  a  wealthy,  a  rude  and  an  intelligent  community,  were 
soon  felt.  *  The  people  of  the  Ban  de  la  Roche  obtained  tools,  and 
Oberlin  taught  their  young  men  the  necessity  of  learning  other  trades 
besides  that  of  cultivating  the  earth.  He  apprenticed  the  boys  to 
Carpenters,  Masons,  Glaziers,  Blacksmiths,  and  Cartwrights,  at  Stras- 
bourg. In  a  few  years  these  arts,  which  were  wholly  unknown  to  the 
district,  began  to  flourish.  The  tools  were  kept  in  good  order ;  wheel- 
carriages  became  common  ;  the  wretched  cabins  were  converted  into 
snug  cottages;  the  people  felt  the  value  of  these  great  changes,  and 
they  began  to  regard  their  pastor  with  unbounded  reverence. 

Oberlin,  however,  had  still  some  prejudices  to  encounter  in  carry- 
ing forward  the  education  of  this  rude  population.  He  desired  to 
teach  them  better  modes  of  cultivating  their  sterile  soil;  but  they 
would  not  listen  to  him.  "  What,"  said  they,  with  the  common  preju- 


FORCE     OF     EXAMPLE.  747 

dice  of  all  agricultural  people  in  secluded  districts,  "  what  could  he 
know  of  crops,  who  had  been  bred  in  a  town?"  It  was  useless-to 
reason  with  them ;  he  instructed  them  by  example.  He  had  two 
large  gardens  near  his  parsonage,  crossed  by  footpaths.  The  soil  was 
exceedingly  poor  ;  but  he  trenched  and  manured  the  ground  with  a 
thorough  knowledge  of  what  he  was  about,  and  planted  it  with  fruit 
trees.  The  trees  flourished,  to  the  great  astonishment  of  the  peas- 
ants ;  and  they  at  length  entreated  their  pastor  to  tell  them  his  secret. 
He  explained  his  system,  and  gave  them  slips  out  of  his  nursery. 
Planting  and  grafting  soon  became  the  taste  of  the  district,  and  in 
a  few  years  the  bare  and  desolate  cottages  were  surrounded  by  smil- 
ing orchards.  The  potatoes  of  the  Canton,  the  chief  food  of  the 
people,  had  so  degenerated  that  the  fields  yielded  the  most  scanty 
produce.  The  peasants  maintained  that  the  ground  was  in  fault ;  Ober- 
lin on  the  contrary  procured  new  seed.  The  soil  of  the  mountains 
was  really  peculiarly  favorable  to  the  cultivation  of  this  root,  and  the 
good  minister's  crop  of  course  succeeded. 

The  force  of  example  was  again  felt,  and  an  abundance  of  potatoes 
soon  returned  to  the  canton.  In  like  manner  Oberlin  introduced 
the  culture  of  Dutch  clover  and  flax,  and  at  length  overcame  the 
most  obstinate  prejudice,  in  converting  unprofitable  pastures  into 
arable  land.  Like  all  agricultural  improvers,  he  taught  the  people 
the  value  of  manure  and  the  best  modes  of  reducing  every  substance 
into  useful  compost.  The  maxim  which  he  incessantly  repeated  was, 
"  let  nothing  be  lost."  He  established  an  Agricultural  Society  and 
founded  prizes  for  the  most  skillful  farmers.  In  ten  years  from  his 
acceptance  of  the  pastoral  office  in  the  Ban  de  la  Roche,  he  had 
opened  communications  between  each  of  the  five  parishes  of  the  Can- 
ton and  with  Strasbourg,  introduced  some  of  the  most  useful  arts 
into  a  district  where  they  had  been  utterly  neglected,  and  raised  the 
agriculture  of  these  poor  mountaineers  from  a  barbarous  tradition  into 
a  practical  science.  Such  were  some  of  the  effects  of  education  in 
the  most  comprehensive  sense  of  the  word.  The  instruction  which 
Oberlin  afforded  to  the  adults  of  his  Canton  was  only  just  as  much  as 
was  necessary,  to  remove  the  most  pressing  evils  of  their  outward 
condition,  and  to  impress  them  with  a  deep  sense  of  religious  obli- 
gation. 

But  his  education  of  the  young  had  a  wider  range.  When  he 
entered  the  ministry,  the  hut  which  his  predecessor  had  built  was 
the  only  school-house  of  the  five  villages  composing  the  Canton.  It 
had  been  constructed  of  unseasoned  logs,  and  was  soon  in  a  ruinous 
condition.  The  people,  however,  would  not  hear  of  a  new  building ; 
the  log-house  had  answered  very  well,  and  was  good  enough  for  their 
time.  Oberlin  was  not  to  be  so  deterred  from  the  pursuit  of  his 
benevolent  wishes.  He  applied  to  his  friends  at  Strasbourg,  and  took 
upon  himself  a  heavy  pecuniary' responsibility.  A  new  building  was 
soon  completed  at  Waldbach,  and  in  a  few  years  the  inhabitants  in 


748  JOHN     FREDERICK     OBERLIN. 

the  four  other  parishes  came  voluntarily  forward  to  build  a  school- 
honse  in  each  of  the  villages.  Oberlin  engaged  zealously  in  the  prep- 
aration of  teachers  for  these  establishments,  which  were  to  receive 
all  the  children  of  the  district  when  of  a  proper  age.  But  he  also 
carried  the  principle  of  education  farther  than  it  had  ever  gone  in 
any  country.  He  was  the  founder  of  infant  schools.  He  saw  that, 
almost  from  the  cradle,  children  were  capable  of  instruction  ;  that 
evil  habits  began  much  earlier  than  the  world  had  been  accustomed 
to  believe ;  and  that  the  facility  with  which  mature  education  might 
be  conducted,  greatly  depended  upon  the  impressions  which  the  rea- 
son and  the  imagination  of  infants  might  receive.  He  appointed 
conductrices  in  each  commune,  paid  at  his  own  expense,  and  established 
rooms,  where  children  from  two  to  six  might  be  instructed  and  amused ; 
he  thus  gave  the  model  of  those  beautiful  institutions  which  have  first 
shown  us  how  the  happiness  of  a  child  may  be  associated  with  its 
improvement,  and  how  knowledge  and  the  discipline  which  leads  to 
knowledge  are  not  necessarily 

"  Harsh  and  crabbed,  as  dull  fools  suppose." 

The  children  in  these  little  establishments  were  not  kept  "  from  morn 
till  noon,  from  noon  till  dewy  eve,"  over  the  horn-book  and  primer. 
They  were  taught  to  knit,  and  sew,  and  spin ;  and  when  they  were 
weary,  they  had  pictures  to  look  at,  and  maps  Engraved  on  wood  for 
their  special  use,  of  their  own  Canton,  of  Alsace,  of  France,  and  of 
Europe.  They  sang  songs  and  hymns,  and  they  were  never  suffered 
to  speak  a  word  of  patois.  This  last  regulation  shows  the  practical 
wisdom  of  their  instructor.  There  are  parts  of  Great  Britain  which 
will  always  fall  short  of  the  general  civilization,  as  long  as  the  langu- 
ages which  have  no  literature  continue  to  be  spoken  there.  The 
Welsh,  and  Irish,  and  Gaelic,  however  venerable  in  the  eyes  of  the 
antiquaries,  are  effectual  obstacles  to  the  civilization  of  the  districts 
from  which  they  are  not  yet  rooted  out. 

When  the  children  of  the  Ban  de  la  Roche — the  children  of  peas- 
ants, be  it  remembered,  who  a  few  years  before  the  blessing  of  such 
a  pastor  as  Oberlin  was  bestowed  upon  them,  were  not  only  steeped 
to  the  lips  in  poverty,  but  were  groping  in  that  darkness  of  the  un- 
derstanding which  too  often  accompanies  extreme  indigence;  when 
these  children  were  removed  to  the  higher  schools,  which  possessed 
the  most  limited  funds,  they  were  taught  reading,  writing,  arithmetic, 
geography,  astronomy,  sacred  and  profane  history,  agriculture,  natural 
history,  especially  botany,  natural  philosophy,  music,  and  drawing. 
Oberlin  reserved  for  himself,  almost  exclusively,  the  religious  instruc- 
tion of  this  large  family ;  and  he  established  a  weekly  meeting  of  all 
the  scholars  at  Waldbach.  The  inhabitants  of  Strasbourg  and  of  all 
the  neighboring  towrfc  from  which  the  Ban  de  la  Roche  had  been 
recently  cut  off,  came  to  look  upon  the  wonders  which  one  man  had 
effected.  Subscriptions  poured  in  upon  the  disinterested  pastor,  and 


WHAT     THE     CHILDREN     LEARNED.  749 

endowments  were  added.  Well  did  he  use  this  assistance ;  he  founded 
a  valuable  library  for  the  use  of  the  children  ;  he  printed  a  number 
of  the  best  school-books  for  their  particular  instruction ;  he  made  a 
collection  of  philosophical  and  mathematical  instruments ;  he  estab- 
lished prizes  for  teachers  and  scholars. 

Thus  did  this  extraordinary  man  strive  to  raise  the  intellectual 
standard  of  his  parishioners,  whilst  he  labored  to  preserve  the  purity 
of  their  morals  and  the  strength  of  their  piety.  Never  did  religion 
present  more  attractive  features  than  in  the  secluded  districts  of  the 
Ban  de  la  Roche.  The  love  of  God  was  constantly  inculcated  as  a 
rule  of  life ;  but  the  principle  was  enforced  with  no  ascetic  desire  to 
separate  it  from  the  usefulness  and  the  enjoyment  of  existence.  The 
studies  in  which  these  poor  children  were  trained,  contributed  as 
much  to  their  happiness  as  to  their  knowledge.  They  were  not  con- 
fined for  years  to  copying  large  text  and  small  hand,  to  learning  by 
rote  the  one  spelling-book,  to  hammerring  at  the  four  rules  of  arith- 
metic without  understanding  their  principles  or  their  more  practical 
applications. 

The  children  of  Oberlin's  schools  were  taught  whatever  could  be 
useful  to  them  in  their  Agricultural  and  Rural  life,  and  whatever 
could  enable  them  to  extract  happiness  out  of  their  ordinary  pur- 
suits. They  were  incited  to  compose  short  essays  on  the  manage- 
ment of  the  farm  and  orchard ;  they  were  led  into  the  woods  in 
search  of  indigenous  plants,  to  acquire  their  names,  and  to  cultivate 
them  in  their  own  little  gardens ;  they  were  instructed  in  the  delight- 
ful art  of  copying  these  flowers  from  nature;  it  was  impressed  upon 
their  minds  that  as  they  lived  in  a  district  separated  by  mountains 
from  the  rest  of  mankind,  and,  moreover,  a  district  naturally  sterile, 
it  was  their  peculiar  duty  to  contribute  something  towards  the  gen- 
eral prosperity,  and  thus  previously  to  receiving  Religious  Confirma- 
tion, Oberlin  required  a  certificate  that  the  young  person  had  planted 
two  trees.  Trees  were  to  be  planted,  roads  were  to  be  put  into  good 
condition  and  ornamented,  to  please  Him  "  who  rejoices  when  we 
labor  for  the  public  good."  Surely  a  community  thus  trained  to  ac- 
quire substantial  knowledge,  equally  conducive  to  individual  happi- 
ness and  general  utility,  were  likely  to  become  virtuous  and  orderly 
members  of  society,  contented  in  their  stations,  respectful  to  their 
superiors,  kind  to  each  other,  hospitable  to  the  stranger,  and  tolerant 
to  those  who  differed  from  them  in  opinion.  Oberlin  lived  to  see 
the  excellent  results  of  his  wise  and  benevolent  system. 

In  1784  Oberlin  lost  his  excellent  wife.  There  was  a  servant  in 
his  family,  an  orphan  named  Louisa  Schepler,  who  had  been  brought 
up  in  his  schools,  and  was  afterwards  one  of  the  conductrices  of  the 
Infant  establishments.  After  being  the  nurse  of  Oberlin's  children 
for  nine  years  following  the  death  of  their  mother,  the  poor  girl 
wrote  to  her  master,  to  beg  that  she  might  be  allowed  to  serve  him 
without  wages. 


750  JOHN     FREDERICK    OBERLIN. 

"Do  not,  I  entreat  you,"  she  says,  "give  me  any  more  wages; 
for  as  you  treat  me  like  your  child  in  every  other  respect,  I  earnestly 
wish  you  to  do  so  'in  this  particular  also.  Little  is  needful  for  the 
support  of  my  body.  My  shoes,  my  stockings  and  sabots  will  cost 
something ;  but  when  I  want  them  I  can,  as  a  child,  ask  you  for  them, 

In  the  course  of  twenty  years,  the  population  of  the  Ban  de  la 
Roche  had  increased  to  six  times  the  number  that  Oberlin  found 
them  when  he  entered  upon  his  charge.  The  knowledge  which  their 
pastor  gave  to  the  people  gave  to  them  also  the  means  of  living,  and 
the  increase  of  their  means  increased  their  numbers.  The  good  min- 
ister found  employment  for  all.  In  addition  to  their  Agricultural  pur- 
suits, he  taught  Straw-plaiting,  Knitting,  and  Dyeing  with  the  plants 
of  the  country. 

In  the  course  of  years,  Mr.  Legrand,  of  Basle,  a  wealthy  and  phil- 
anthropic manufacturer,  who  had  been  a  Director  of  the  Helvetic 
Republic,  introduced  the  weaving  of  Silk  Ribbons  into  the  district. 

The  people  of  the  Ban  de  la  Roche  for  eighty  years  had  been  in 
dispute  with  the  seigneurs  about  their  right  to  the  forest,  to  which 
each  party  laid  claim.  In  1813  Oberlin  persuaded  his  flock  to  come 
to  an  accommodation,  which  should  at  the  same  time  have  respect 
to  the  claims  of  the  owners,  and  secure  a  due  portion  of  their  own 
proper  privileges.  He  convinced  them  that  this  ruinous  contest  was 
the  scourge  of  the  country,  and  that  it  was  the  duty  of  all  men  to  live 
in  peace.  The  parties  agreed  to  an  accommodation  advantageous  to 
both  sides;  and  the  pen  with  which  the  deed  of  pacification  was 
signed  was  solemnly  presented  to  him  by  the  Mayors  of  the  Canton. 
It  was  for  that  pen  to  record,  as  clearly  as  facts  can  speak,  that  an  ed- 
ucated people  are  the  truest  respectors  of  the  rights  of  property  ! 
Without  an  acquaintance  with  their  political  duties  (that  part  of  edu- 
cation which  is  often  most  fearfully  neglected  among  ourselves),  Ober- 
lin could  never  have  convinced  those  peasants  that  any  portion  of 
the  claims  of  the  signeurs  were  founded  in  justice  and  the  common 
good. 

Oberlin  died  in  the  year  1827,  when  he  had  attained  a  very  great 
age.  The  difficulties  which  he  had  surmounted,  and  the  actual  good 
which  he  did,  should  be  a  lesson  of  encouragement  to  all  individuals 
who  may  be  situated  with  the  means  of  producing  some  local  im- 
provement within  their  reach.  In  the  fullness  of  his  heart,  the  venerable 
man,  looking  round  upon  the  valleys  which  he  had  filled  with  the 
peacefulness  of  contented  industry,  and  upon  the  people  whom  he  had 
trained  to  knowledge,  and  to  virtue  the  best  fruit  of  knowledge,  he  ex- 
claimed, "Yes,  I  am  happy !"  And  when  he  died  he  was  followed  to  the 
grave  by  an  entire  population,  upon  whom  he,  a  poor  but  industrious 
clergyman,  had  showered  innumerable  blessings,  the  least  of  which 
the  idle  and  self-indulging  lord  of  thousands  has  neither  the  grace 
to  will  nor  the  spirit  to  bestow. 


STEPHEN   GIRAKD. 


FEW  individuals  in  recent  times  have  rendered  themselves  more 
famous  than  this  eccentric  and  singular  Frenchman,  who  for 
sixty  years  resided  in  Philadelphia,  and  became  one  of  its  greatest 
merchants  and  bankers.  He  did  not  possess  much  of  that  true  worth 
which  should  render  his  memory  respected,  but  his  life  presents  a  re- 
markable instance  of  great  results,  achieved  by  small  means  carefully 
and  skillfully  managed. 

Girard  was  a  native  of  Bourdeaux,  and  was  born  in  the  year  1750. 
His  parents  were  poor,  and  he  received  no  other  education  than  is 
implied  in  the  fact  that  when  he  was  a  child  he  was  taught  to  read 
and  write.  Although  nearly  his  entire  manhood  was  spent  in  his 
adopted  city  he  never  acquired  a  sufficient  knowledge  of  the  English 
language  to  speak  it  correctly  ;  but  the  native  vigor  of  his  mind  sup- 
plied in  large  measure  such  deficiencies  as  in  most  other  men,  would 
have  been  insuperable  barriers  to  success. 

In  his  mature  years  he  often  referred  to  the  ridicule,  from  which  he 
suffered  in  his  early  youth,  because  of  the  distorted  features  of  his 
face,  produced  by  his  defective  eye. 

At  the  age  of  ten  or  twelve  years  he  shipped  as  a  cabin  boy  on  a 
small  vessel  bound  to  the  West  Indies,  and  afterwards  sailed  from 
New  York  in  the  same  humble  capacity.  At  this  time  his  conduct 
was  so  exemplary  as  to  win  the  complete  good-will  of  the  master  of 
the  vessel ;  he  was  so  much  pleased  with  his  fidelity  and  industry, 
that  he  not  long  after  gave  him  the  command  of  a  small  craft,  in 
which  Girard  made  several  voyages  to  New  Orleans  and  other  ports. 
His  great  frugality  and  success  in  such  small  speculations  as  he  could 
then  engage  in,  put  it  in  his  power  soon  to  become  part  owner  of  a 
vessel,  in  which  he  continued  to  sail  as  master. 

In  1769  Girard,  then  but  nineteen  years  of  age,  established  himself 
in  Philadelphia,  and  in  the  course  of  the  next  year  he  married  Polly 

(750 


752  HIS     CHARACTER     AND     HABITS. 

Lum,  the  pretty  daughter  of  a  caulker,  then  in  her  seventeenth  year, 
and  a  servant  girl  in  his  neighborhood.  His  marriage  did  not  prove 
a  happy  one,  because  of  the  asperity  of  his  temper ;  and  the  final 
result  was  a  divorce  from  his  wife,  who  afterwards  became  insane,  and 
for  the  last  twenty-five  years  of  her  life  she  was  an  inmate  (1790  to 
1815)  of  a  lunatic  asylum.  She  bore  him  but  one  child,  who  died  in 
infancy. 

Girard's  commercial  operations  were  interrupted  by  the  war 
of  the  Revolution,  so  that  for  several  years  he  was  occupied  as  a 
grocer  and  dealer  in  liquors ;  he,  however,  again  entered  the  West 
India,  trade,  and  was  soon  recognized  as  a  rich  man.  Though  he  was 
in  general,  morose  in  his  manners,  and  harsh  in  his  disposition,  yet, 
during  the  prevalence  of  the  yellow  fever  at  Philadelphia,  in  1793,  ne 
distinguished  himself  by  his  active  benevolence  in  attending  the  sick, 
and  on  all  occasions  he  manifested  a  singular  readiness  to  afford 
medical  advice  and  personal  assistance  to  such  sufferers  as  came  under 
his  notice,  while,' at  the  same  time,  he  would  never  relieve  the  distresses 
of  his  friends  or  relatives,  whether  their  troubles  arose  from  bodily 
ailments  or  a  collapsed  condition  of  purse. 

The  first  impressions  upon  the  spectator  made  by  Stephen  Girard 
were  decidedly  unfavorable ;  his  person  was  altogether  quite  forbid- 
ding. His  vulgar  exterior,  his  cold,  abstracted,  and  taciturn  habits 
did  not  fail  to  excite  in  the  mind  of  the  casual  observer  a  feeling  ap- 
proaching to  contempt.  He  was  short  and  square  built,  and  resembled 
an  old  sailor.  His  wall-eye,  mean  garb,  and  general  presence  con- 
trasted so  strikingly  with  his  large  fortune,  that  one  could  scarcely 
fail  to  feel  disgusted  at  his  appearance  and  bearing.  He  was  partially 
deaf  in  one  ear,  and  his  conversation  was  sadly  disfigured  by  his 
broken  French  dialect.  He  talked  but  little,  except  on  business,  and 
then  said  no  more  than  was  necessary  to  make  himself  understood. 
His  volubility,  however,  when  excited  by  anger,  was  without  a  parallel, 
especially  when  among  his  workmen  and  dependents,  and  his  language 
was  not  either  refined  or  courteous.  But  to  compensate  for  these 
ebullitions  of  temper  towards  his  inferiors,  he  had  the  art  of  concili- 
ating them  by  the  most  fascinating  displays  of  occasional  good  nature, 
which  impressed  them  favorably,  and  led  to  great  readiness  on  their 
part  to  serve  him  devotedly. 

In  his  habits  of  attention  to  business,  Mr.  Girard  was  precise  and 
regular;  perhaps  more  so  at  his  counting-room  than  at  his  bank.  On 
discount  days,  at  the  latter,  he  observed  regular  hours.  During  the 
spring  and  summer  months  he  was  accustomed  to  spend  an  hour  or 
two  each  morning  in  a  garden  attached  to  his  bank,  where  he  em- 
ployed himself  in  nursing  his  fig-trees,  dressing  his  shrubs,  and  prun- 
ing his  vines. 

At  the  venerable  age  of  eighty-one  he  died,  and  was  buried  without 
religious  ceremonies  in  a  Roman  Catholic  cemetery.  His  will  devised 
an  immense  estate, — perhaps  greater  than  was  ever  before  given, — for 


STEPHEN    GIRARD.  753 

purposes  wholly  beneficent  and  charitable,  which  led  to  prolonged 
litigation  in  the  courts  of  Pennsylvania.  In  these  legal  contests 
Daniel  Webster  and  other  eminent  counsel  were  conspicuous. 

Mr.  Girard's  estate  was  valued  at  about  twelve  millions  of  dollars, 
and  was  all  devoted  to  educating  destitute  children,  and  the  relief  of 
the  poor  and  distressed.  To  the  Pennsylvania  Hospital  he  bequeathed 
§30,000, — charged  with  an  annuity  of  $200  to  a  female  slave  whom 
he  set  free ;  to  the  Deaf  and  Dumb  Asylum,  $20,000 ;  to  the  Phila- 
delphia Orphan  Asylum,  $10,000  ;  to  the  Philadelphia  Public  Schools, 
$10,000  ;  to  the  City  Corporation,  for  investment,  the  interest  to  be 
applied  annually  for  the  purchase  of  fuel  for  the  poor,  $  10,000 ; 
to  the  Society  of  Shipmasters,  to  relieve  distressed  masters,  their 
widows  and  children,  $10,000;  to  the  Grand  Lodge  of  Free- 
masons, Pennsylvania,  $10,000;  for  a  school  for  poor  white 
children  in  Passayunk  (where  his  farm  was),  $6,000 ;  legacies  to 
individuals,  about  $120,000;  annuities  amounting  to  about  $4,000; 
to  the  city  of  New  Orleans,  1,000  acres  of  improved  land  in  Louisi- 
ana, and  one-third  of  207,000  acres  of  unimproved  land  in  said  state, 
the  remaining  two-thirds  being  devised  to  the  city  of  Philadelphia ; 
to  the  latter  city,  stock  in  the  Schuylkill  Navigation  Company, 
$110,000;  for  the  erection  and  endowment  of  a  (Girard)  College 
(Philadelphia),  for  poor  white  male  orphans,  $200,000,  with  provision 
that,  should  this  sum  prove  insufficient,  the  necessary  sum  should  be 
taken  from  the  residuary  fund ;  to  Philadelphia,  for  certain  city  im- 
provements, to  be  invested  and  the  interest  annually  applied,  $500,000; 
to  the  State  of  Pennsylvania  for  internal  improvements  by  canals, 
$300,000 ;  to  the  city  of  Philadelphia,  all  his  remaining  real  and 
personal  estate  (no  part  of  the  former  to  be  sold),  estimated  to  be 
worth  $8,000,000,  in  aid  of  the  Orphans'  ("Girard")  College,  if 
needed,  for  improvements  of  the  city,  and  the  relief  of  taxes.  The 
control  and  guardianship  of  the  college  was  given  to  the  Mayor, 
Aldermen,  and  citizens  of  Philadelphia,  and  the  site  fixed  by  Mr. 
Girard  on  "  Peel  Hill,"  situated,  as  stated  then,  in  Pennsylvania 
Township,  on  the  Ridge  Road,  on  premises  containing  forty-five 
acres,  on  which  such  buildings  were  to  be  erected  as  would  accom- 
modate at  least  300  scholars,  with  buildings  for  teachers  and  all  pur- 
poses proper  to  the  institution.  In  his  will  Mr.  Girard  gave  particular 
directions  for  constructing  the  buildings  as  to  form,  size,  and  materials. 
The  foundations  of  the  main  edifice  were  laid  in  the  summer  of  1833, 
but  the  structure  was  not  completed  and  opened  until  the  beginning  of 
1848.  The  principal  building  is  said  to  be  the  finest  modern  speci- 
men of  Grecian  architecture.  The  form  is  that  of  a  Corinthian  temple, 
surrounded  by  a  portico,  having  thirty-four  columns,  each  six  feet  in 
diameter  and  fifty-five  high,  resting  on  a  basis  of  eleven  white  marble 
steps.  The  building  is  ninety-seven  feet  high,  one  hundred  and  eleven 
feet  wide,  and  one  hundred  and  sixty-nine  feet  long.  The  walls  are 
of  white  marble,  and  the  stairways  and  roof  also.  The  entrances  are 
48 


754  GIRARD     COLLEGE. 

on  the  north  and  south  fronts,  each  having  doorways  thirty-two  feet 
high  and  sixteen  feet- wide.  There  are  twenty-four  windows  on  each  of 
the  east  and  west  sides.  Mr.  Girard's  remains  were  buried  beneath  the 
center  of  the  lower  vestibule  and  are  covered  by  a  marble  statue. 
Besides  this  main  edifice  there  are  five  other  buildings  within  the  in- 
closure — a  laboratory,  a  wash-house,  bakery,  etc.  The  cost  of  erect- 
ing the  whole  was  but  little  less  than  $2, 000,000.  Provision  was 
made  by  the  will  for  supporting  as  many  poor  orphans  as  the  premises 
could  be  made  to  accommodate ;  first,  those  of  Philadelphia ;  secondly, 
those  of  Pennsylvania ;  thirdly,  those  of  the  city  of  New  York ;  and, 
fourthly,  of  New  Orleans.  These  poor  orphans  to  be  taught  "  the 
various  branches  of  a  sound  education,"  etc.,  etc.,  and  "the  French 
and  Spanish  languages,"  the  Latin  not  being  forbidden,  but  not  recom- 
mended. Also  such  other  learning  and  science  to  be  taught  as  the 
capacities  of  the  several  scholars  should  merit  or  warrant.  Principles 
of  morality  to  be  inculcated,  but,  in  the  terms  of  the  founder's  will 
(showing  his  singular  and  eccentric  character),  no  ecclesiastic  mis- 
sionary or  minister,  of  any  sect  whatsoever,  shall  ever  hold  or  exercise 
any  station  or  duty  whatever  in  said  college  ;  nor  shall  any  such  per- 
son ever  be  admitted  within  the  premises  appropriated  to  the  purposes 
of  said  college."  Orphans  are  admitted  between  the  ages  of  six  and  ten 
years,  and  are  fed,  clothed,  and  educated,  and  when  between  fourteen 
and  eighteen  years  are  bound  out  to  learn  some  useful  occupation,  often 
to  agriculturists,  mechanics,  etc.  As  many  are  admitted  to  the  insti- 
tution as  the  endowment  will  support. 

It  is  to  be  remarked  that  the  trustees  of  Girard  College  early  decided 
to  introduce  the  Bible  for  the  use  of  the  scholars,  as  not  being  incon- 
sistent with  the  will  of  the  founder ;  and  as  a  commentary  upon  the 
course  of  human  events,  it  may  be  stated  that  the  present  President 
of  that  noble  institution  is  likewise  President  of  the  American  Bible 
Society,  and  an  LL.  D.  of  eminent  attainments  and  the  highest 
religious  character,  who  fills  his  position  in  the  college  acceptably 
and  with  signal  ability. 

Mr.  Girard  died  in  1831,  and  now,  after  an  interval  of  forty  years, 
no  clergyman  is  allowed  to  enter  the  college  or  its  beautiful  grounds, 
situated  on  Girard  Avenue,  in  one  of  the  most  beautiful  portions  of 
Philadelphia. 


GEORGE  PEABODY. 


1  "ARLY  in  November,  1869,  some  unusually  solemn  funeral 
^  obsequies  were  celebrated  in  Westminster  Abbey.  Under  the 
noble  arches  of  that  venerable  pile,  where  repose  the  ashes  of  Eng- 
land's most  famous  dead ;  where  the  dust  of  sovereigns  mingles  with 
the  common  clay  of  earth  ;  where  sleeps  the  long  line  of  kingly 
poets,  whose  potent  genius  has  moved  for  centuries  the  tears  and 
laughter  of  the  world  ;  where  philosopher  and  divine,  prince  and 
statesman,  form  a  hallowed  circle,  within  which  no  meaner  name  than 
that  of  royalty  dare  enter,  stood  the  simple  coffin  of  George  Peabody, 
merchant.  Among  all  the  reverend  shadows  which  haunt  the  spot, 
lay  the  remains  of  the  American  country  boy,  graduate  of  America's 
humblest  university,  the  New  England  District  School ;  the  mer- 
chant, who  had  climbed  by  low  steps  to  princely  fortune  ;  the  phi- 
lanthropist, who  in  his  old  age  had  so  endeared  himself  to  the  hearts 
of  two  English-speaking  peoples,  that  each  vied  with  the  other  to  do 
honor  to  his  dust.  Around  his  coffin  earls  doffed  hats  and  stood  with 
uncovered  heads  while  a  royal  bishop  read  the  funeral  service ;  and 
when  all  was  over,  the  carriage  of  a  queen  followed  his  embalmed  body 
to  the  ship  of  royal  line,  which  was  to  bear  it  to  the  humble  shades 
of  a  New  England  cemetery,  for  its  final  resting-place.  Never  did 
simple  worth  and  pure  benevolence  command  their  meed  of  reverence 
more  fully  than  in  the  case  of  the  man  of  whose  life  these  pages  pro- 
pose to  give  a  brief  epitome. 

George  Peabody  belongs  to  an  old  and  respectable  family.  In 
the  first  record  of  the  business  transactions  of  the  town  of  Topsfield, 
Massachusetts,  the  name  of  Lieutenant  Francis  Peabody  appears.  He 
came  from  Hertfordshire,  England,  in  1667.  His  wife  was  a  daughter 
of  Reginald  (or  Roland)  Foster,  who  was  of  the  party  at  Branksome 
Hall,  when  Scots  and  English  together  toasted  "  Cranstown's  lord 
and  fair  Margaret." 

(755) 


756  GEORGE     PEABODY. 

*  M  Where  many  a  yeoman,  bold  and  free, 
Revelled  as  merrily  and  well. 
As  those  that  sat  in  lordly  selle. 
Watt  Tinlinn  there  did  frankly  raise 
The  pledge  to  Arthur  Fire-the-braes ; 
And  he,  as  by  his  breeding  bound, 
To  Howard's  merry-men  sent  it  round. 
To  quit  them,  on  the  English  side, 
Red  Roland  Foster  loudly  cried, 
'A  deep  carouse  to  yon  fair  bride.'  " 

Of  Lieutenant  Francis  Peabody's  five  stalwart  sons,  three  went  to 
reside  in  Boxford,  the  other  two  remaining  in  Topsfield.  From  these 
five  brothers  sprang  all  the  American  Peabodys'.  Several  of  these 
have  stood  high  in  different  professions,  and  especially  in  the  ministry, 
where  are  found  many  eminent  names. 

Thomas  Peabody,  the  father  of  George,  lived  in  South  Danvers, 
Massachusetts,  a  characteristic  New  England  village,  adjoining  the  old 
town  of  Salem.  Of  all  the  towns  in  this  country  where  the  laws  of 
growth  and  change  prevail,  none  better  prove  the  exception  to  the 
almost  universal  rule,  than  those  old  towns  which  cluster  about  some 
of  the  seaport  cities  of  New  England  as  their  commercial  and  metro- 
politan center.  Danvers,  Marblehead,  Ipswich,  and  half  a  dozen 
other  villages  near  Salem,  lead  year  after  year,  a  quiet,  changeless  ex- 
istence, unconscious  of  the  moving  of  those  forces  which  every  twenty- 
five  or  thirty  years  build  up  a  Chicago,  Cincinnati,  or  San  Francisco. 
When  George  Peabody  was  born,  February  i8th,  1795,  we  doubt  if 
his  eyes  opened  upon  a  very  different  scene  from  that  which  the 
visitor  to  his  birth-place  would  behold  to-day.  The  elms  have  grown 
larger,  the  houses  have  had  an  occasional  coat  of  white  paint,  the 
blinds  a  fresh  green ;  but  there  is  the  same  long  village  street, 
bordered  with  quiet-looking  houses,  and  the  same  straggling  suburbs, 
which  wander  off  to  join  the  town  of  Salem,  as  in  George  Peabody's 
early  days.  The  chief  marks  of  improvement  are  the  fine  building 
which  the  town  owes  to  his  generosity,  and  the  single  horse-car  track, 
stretching  out  from  Salem,  over  which  a  one-horse  car  rolls  at  rare 
intervals  during  the  day. 

The  house  where  he  was  born  is  still  standing — just  the  house  you 
would  expect  to  find :  Two  stories,  with  the  front  door  in  the 
middle;  two  windows  each  side  of  the  front  door;  the  house  built 
close  to  the  street,  and  painted  white,  with  green  blinds.  The  blinds 
are  probably  a  modern  improvement,  and  so  is  the  long  L  built  out 
from  the  main  body.  In  George's  childhood,  no  doubt,  green  paper 
curtains  flapped  at  the  windows  to  exclude  the  sun  in  summer ;  and 
the  four  rooms  in  the  main  part  of  the  house  were  then  large  enough 
to  serve  the  growing  family  of  Thomas  Peabody.  The  house  is  built 
in  the  strong,  staunch  fashion  of  those  times,  the  rooms,  perhaps 

*  Lay  of  Last  Minstrel. — SCOTT. 


THE    GROCER'S    CLERK.  757 

seven  feet  high,  having  a  heavy  beam  running  across  the  ceiling,  under 
which  a  tall  man  would  stoop  to  pass.  The  Peabodys,  it  seems,  did 
not  often  grow  too  tall  for  such  a  ceiling,  and  George  Peabody  him- 
self, although  he  was  a  broad-shouldered,  well-made  man,  was  never 
of  such  commanding  height  that  he  was  obliged  to  stoop  in  the  home 
of  his  boyhood. 

We  know  little  of  his  early  days,  but  it  requires  small  stretch  of 
the  imagination  to  paint  them.  He  was  a  member  of  the  district 
school,  and  learned  there  a  little  reading  and  spelling  and  geography. 
There  was  not  much  need  of  studying  the  "History  of  our  country," 
for  the  Revolutionary  War  was  fresh  in  his  father's  memory.  When 
George  Peabody  was  born,  Washington  was  serving  out  the  last  year 
of  his  second  term  of  the  Presidency.  He  was  instructed  principally 
in  Penmanship  and  Arithmetic,  and  must  have  improved  his  oppor- 
tunities for  perfection  in  the  former  branch,  for  it  is  related  of  him, 
that,  when  he  was  fifteen  years  old,  a  clerk  in  his  brother's  store  in 
Newburyport,  he  earned  the  first  money,  outside  his  meager  salary, 
by  writing  ballots  for  the  Federal  party,  on  election  day.  All  his 
life,  too,  he  is  said  to  have  written  a  precise  and  very  shapely  hand. 
He  undoubtedly  mastered  the  rudiments  of  Arithmetic  in  these  early 
days,  but  he  must  have  added  largely  to  his  slender  stock  of  knowl- 
edge before  he  could  decide  the  fate  of  the  millions  which  flowed 
through  the  great  banking  house  of  Peabody  &  Co.,  in  London. 

The  Peabodys,  as  a  family,  took  to  trade,  and  not  to  the  farm. 
Two  of  the  family  were  already  proprietors  of  country  stores,  when 
George  entered  the  employment  of  Mr.  Sylvester  Proctor  in  Danvers. 
Amid  a  motley  assortment  of  codfish,  calico,  oil,  molasses,  stockings 
knit  of  home-spun  yarn,  drugs  and  patent  medicines,  the  boy  of 
eleven  began  business  life.  Four  years  were  spent  in  this  employ- 
ment,— patiently  and  honorably  spent, — till  the  boy  had  grown  into  a 
strippling  of  fifteen.  In  the  main  street  of  South  Danvers  (now  called 
Peabody)  one  can  still  see  the  old  building,  half  store  and  half  dwell- 
ing-house, with  a  little  window  high  up  among  the  rafters,  which 
looks  out  from  the  attic  bedroom  where  George  Peabody  slept  when 
he  lived  under  his  employer's  roof. 

At  fifteen,  his  mode  of  life  took  a  sudden  change  for  a  year.  Per- 
haps he  wished  to  try  if  a  farmer's  life  would  suit  his  taste  better 
than  the  grocer's  store ;  perhaps  his  parents  wanted  him  to  have  a 
little  rest  after  the  long  years  of  confinement  at  the  counter.  At  any 
rate,  he  went  to  his  grandfather's  farm  in  Thetford,  Vermont,  to  spend 
a  year  there. 

His  grandfather,  Jeremiah  Dodge  (his  mother's  father),  and  his 
uncle  Eliaphet,  both  owned  fertile  farms  in  the  Connecticut  valley, 
in  that  part  of  Thetford  known  as  Post  Mills  village.  Here  George 
found  a  great  family  of  cousins, — stout  boys,  who  worked  on  their 
father's  farm,  and  brisk,  deft-handed  girls,  who  took  care  of  the  dairy, 


758  GEORGE    PEABODY. 

spun  and  wove  the  cloth  for  family  use,  and  worked  cheerfully  from 
morn  till  eve. 

It  is  probable  that  George  joined  the  boys  in  their  labor;  and  it  is 
likely,  also,  that  he  may  have  added  to  his  scanty  store  of  book- 
learning  by  attending  the  winter  school.  For  this  surmise  we  can 
find  no  confirmation  ;  but  if  he  did  go  to  school  that  winter,  it  was 
his  last  and  only  opportunity.  From  the  time  he  left  Vermont,  he 
plunged  into  active  life ;  and  "all  his  after  culture  must  have  come 
from  his  experience  and  observation  in  the  great  world  of  trade  and 
society.  Perhaps  his  lack  of  early  educational  advantages  gave  to 
him  his  thorough  respect  for  books,  libraries,  and  all  such  appliances 
of  learning.  Certain  it  is,  that  all  his  charities  leaned  largely  in  one 
direction.  Wherever  any  portion  of  his  life,  from  earliest  boyhood, 
had  been  spent,  he  has  marked  that  spot  in  our  memories,  by  a  gift 
to  promote  intelligence  and  culture  there.  Thus  the  little  village  of 
Post  Mills,  Thetford,  bears  evidence  of  his  bounty  in  the  shape  of  a 
town  library,  free  to  the  inhabitants,  which  has  the  name  of  "  Pea- 
body  Library." 

After  a  year  in  Thetford,  George  went  back  to  his  father's  house  in 
Danvers.  On  his  return,  he  passed  through  Concord,  the  elm-shaded 
capital  of  New  Hampshire.  Years  after,  when  he  was  the  honored 
guest  of  that  city,  one  of  the  committee  who  were  entertaining  him 
asked  if  he  had  ever  been  in  Concord  before. 

"  Yes,  sir,  once  certainly,"  answered  Peabody,  with  a  twinkle  of  the 
eye,  "I  spent  one  night  here  in  journeying  from  my  grandfather's, 
in  Thetford,  Vermont.  I  put  up  at  the  hotel  here,  and  sawed  wood 
enough  to  pay  for  my  night's  lodging." 

In  1811,  being  now  sixteen  years  old,  he  joined  his  brother  David 
in  the  old  town  of  Newburyport.  Here  the  elder  had  established  a 
"dry  goods  store,"  and  hither  George  went  to  serve  as  his  clerk 
and  assistant.  His  manners  were  always  marked  by  that  true  and 
hearty  courtesy  which  won  him  friends  in  all  his  business  relations. 
The  affability  he  showed  to  customers,  the  alacrity  with  which  he  car- 
ried out  the  wishes  of  his  employers,  were  always  marked  traits  in 
his  character.  Even  after  his  immense  fortune  was  made,  he  was 
noted  for  his  suavity  in  all  his  business  transactions.  A  bluff,  old 
drayman,  who  was  often  employed  to  transport  luggage  for  him,  used 
to  say :  "  Mr.  Peabody,  bless  his  soul,  why  he  would  be  just  as  nice 
a  man  if  he  wasn't  worth  a  dollar.  He  is  such  an  easy  and  com- 
fortable kind  of  a  man  to  have  "round." 

His  stay  in  Newburyport  was  brought  to  a  sudden  close.  New- 
buryport, in  later  times,  has  been  famous  for  its  fires.  For  years, 
sudden  and  inexplicable  conflagrations  have  formed  the  staple  excite- 
ment of  that  otherwise  torpid  old  city.  We  are,  therefore,  not  sur- 
prised to  learn  that  a  sudden  fire  broke  out  one  evening  in  David 
Peabody's  store,  and  consumed  the  building  and  stock  of  goods. 
George  was  just  putting  up  the  shutters,  and  he  was  the  first  to  give  the 


A     SOLDIER    OF     THE     WAR     OF     l8l2.  759 

alarm.-  It  was  too  late,  however;  and  with  the  burning  of  his  broth- 
er's store,  his  residence  in  Newburyport  ended. 

This  was  the  first  turn  in  the  tide  of  his  affairs  which  helped  him  on 
to  fortune.  If  he  had  remained  in  Newburyport,  in  company  with 
his  brother,  he  might  have  achieved  a  mediocre  success  as  a  retail 
merchant.  But  the  fire  drove  him  away,  and,  going  out  into  larger 
fields  for  business,  he  soon  found  the  measure  of  his  power. 

His  uncle,  John  Peabody,  was  keeping  store  in  Georgetown,  near 
Washington,  D.  C.,  and,  on  hearing  of  the  calamity  in  Newburyport, 
he  sent  for  George  to  come  to  him.  With  his  uncle  he  remained 
two  years,  winning  golden  opinions  from  all  who  knew  him,  by  his 
politeness,  his  genial  manners,  and  his  attention  to  business. 

He  was  an  agreeable  companion,  too,  ready  with  a  good  joke,  and  had 
a  hearty  appreciation  of  fun.  He  was  a  keen  sportsman,  and,  above 
all,  fond  of  Isaac  Walton's  favorite  pursuit.  His  salary  was  still  very 
small,  and  his  habits  were  frugal  always,  but  a  select  society  of  young 
men,  who  knew  no  lack  of  pocket-money,  were,  glad  to  pay  his  ex- 
penses in  fishing  and  hunting  parties,  if  he  would  join  them,  in  his 
leisure  hours. 

"I  would  gladly  pay  his  share  of  the  expenses  in  those  days,  to 
share  his  society, "said  one  of  his  old  companions,  in  speaking  of  their 
youthful  days,  long  afterwards. 

Shortly  after  his  arrival  in  Georgetown,  the  war  of  1812,  between 
America  and  England,  broke  out.  Young  Peabody  was  not  yet  of 
legal  age  for  a  soldier,  but  he  went  forward  and  offered  his  services. 
They  were  accepted.  He  was  made  a  member  of  an  artillery  force, 
and  sent  to  Fort  Warburton,  to  guard  the  river  approach  to  the  Cap- 
ital. But  the  expected  attack  was  not  then  made  by  the  British,  and 
Peabody  was  released  from  active  duty.  Years  afterwards,  Congress 
remembered  his  services  with  the  gift  of  one  hundred  acres  of  land. 

At  the  end  of  the  two  years  spent  with  his  uncle,  George  Peabody 
was  nineteen  years  old.  His  business  habits  were  now  formed.  All 
the  circumstances  of  his  life,  and  the  natural  bent  of  his  character, 
seem  to  have  been  steadily  training  him  for  a  successful  merchant. 
He  was  still  a  youth  in  years,  and  in  appearance,  but  a  youth  who  pos- 
sessed the  method  and  clear  insight  of  a  much  older  man.  He  had 
attained  his  full  height,  which  was  about  five  feet  eight,  although  in 
later  years  his  portly  figure,  and  the  dignity  of  his  bearing,  gave  him 
the  appearance  of  a  much  larger  man.  He  had  a  clear  complexion, 
an  honest,  open  blue  eye,  with  light  hair,  and  was  altogether  an  em- 
bodiment of  earnest,  industrious,  intelligent  young  manhood. 

Mr.  Elisha  Riggs,  of  Georgetown,  was  at  this  time  looking  out  for 
a  business  partner.  After  considering  the  matter  carefully,  he  sent 
for  young  Peabody,  and  invited  him  to  join  him  in  the  wholesale 
trade  in  dry-goods ;  he  furnishing  the  capital,  and  the  young  partner 
in  the  firm  transacting  the  larger  part  of  the  business. 

Peabody  hesitated.     His  mind  took  in  at  once  all  the  advantages 


760  GEORGE     PEABODY. 

of  this  offer  to  himself.  But  his  strict  sense  of  honesty  would  not 
allow  him  to  omit  stating  to  Mr.  Riggs  what  might  be  disadvantage- 
ous to  him. 

"Mr.  Riggs,"  he  said,  looking  with  his  honest. blue  eyes  full  into 
the  face  of  his  proposed  partner,  "  I  see  but  one  objection  to  your 
plan,  but  I  fear  you  will  think  that  a  great  one.  I  am  only  nineteen 
years  old.  I  fear  I  am  too  young  a  man  to  risk  your  enterprise 
with." 

"  Never  mind  your  age,"  answered  the  shrewd  merchant.  "I  know 
what  I  want.  If  /don't  find  fault  with  your  youth,  you  need  not. 
Will  you  accept  my  offer  ?' ' 

The  bargain  was  closed ;  and  stepping  over,  in  this  one  stride,  sev- 
eral rounds  in  the  ladder  of  fortune,  George  Peabody  became  the 
junior  partner  in  the  firm  of  Riggs  &  Peabody,  wholesale  mer- 
chants. 

For  a  few  years  his  position  in  the  firm  was  much  like  that  of  a 
commercial  traveler.  He  journeyed  through  Virginia,  Maryland, 
Pennsylvania,  and  New  York,  almost  always  on  horseback,  for  the 
country  was  not  then  netted  with  railways,  becoming  acquainted  with 
the  people,  and  establishing  in  a  large  circuit  the  credit  and  reputa- 
tion of  the  firm.  In  1815,  the  house  removed  to  Baltimore.  S»ven 
years  later,  branch  houses  were  opened  in  New  York  and  Philadelphia; 
and  in  1830,  after  sixteen  years  of  partnership,  Riggs  &  Peabody  dis- 
solved. Riggs  retired  from  business,  leaving  Peabody,  at  thirty-five 
years  of  age,  the  senior  partner  in  one  of  the  largest  and  richest 
mercantile  houses  in  the  United  States. 

In  1827,  before  the  retirement  of  Mr.  Riggs,  Mr.  Peabody  made 
his  first  trip  across  the  Atlantic.  After  the  dissolution  of  the  firm,  he 
gradually  withdrew  from  its  business,  and  finally,  in  1837,  established  a 
house  in  London,  under  the  name  of  George  Peabody  &  Co.,  Warn- 
ford  Court,  City.  The  financial  panic  in  this  country,  known  as  the 
"crisis  of  1837,"  followed  close  upon  Mr.  Peabody's  permanent  re- 
moval to  London.  This  year  was  one  of  the  saddest  in  our  civil 
history.  Three- fourths  of  all  the  banks  in  the  country  fell,  and  thou- 
sands were  ruined.  American  merchants,  and  those  English  mer- 
chants who  dealt  exclusively  with  the  United  States  and  her  securi- 
ties, saw  nothing  but  disaster  staring  them  in  the  face. 

In  this  juncture,  the  State  of  Maryland  remembered  Peabody,  and 
caught  at  the  hope  of  his  serving  them  in  England.  They  appointed 
him  one  of  three  commissioners  to  devise  some  means  for  saving  the 
credit  of  the  State.  His  services  at  this  time  were  never  forgotten 
by  Maryland.  He  worked  with  disinterested  zeal,  refusing  all  remu- 
neration. "There  were  probably  not  a  dozen  men  in  Europe,"  says 
Edward  Everett,  "who,  upon  the  subject  of  American  securities, 
would  have  been  listened  to  for  a  moment  in  the  parlor  of  the 
Bank  of  England.  But  his  judgment  commanded  respect,  his  integ- 
rity won  back  the  reliance  which  men  had  been  accustomed  to  place 


FROM     MERCHANT     TO     BANKER.  761 

on  American  securities ;  and  if  on  this  solid  basis  of  unsuspected 
good-will  he  reared  his  own  prosperity,  let  it  be  remembered  that, 
at  the  same  time,  he  retrieved  the  credit  of  the  State  of  Maryland, 
of  which  he  was  agent,  performing  the  miracle  by  which  the  word 
of  an  honest  man  turns  paper  into  gold." 

From  1837  dates  his  great  and  constant  increase  of  prosperity.  In 
London,  and  in  all  the  manufacturing  centers,  he  bought  English 
manufactures  at  the  lowest  prices,  shipped  them  to  the  United  States, 
and  in  return  received  American  produce.  But  this  was  not  the  trade 
which  brought  him  most  profit.  The  merchants  and  manufacturers, 
American  and  English,  who  dealt  with  him,  often  procured  money 
advances  from  him  on  account  of  the  goods  they  had  placed  in  his 
hands  before  they  could  be  sold.  Others  left  money  with  him  after 
the  goods  were  disposed  of,  knowing  they  could  draw  a  fair  rate  of 
interest  while  it  remained  in  his  hands.  Thus  gradually  he  slid  from 
the  occupation  of  a  merchant  to  that  of  a  banker,  and  finally  dealt 
altogether  in  money  and  securities.  His  career  of  prosperity  is 
almost  unexampled.  In  six  years  from  the  time  he  was  fixed  in  Lon- 
don, and  was  negotiating  to  save  the  credit  of  his  adopted  State,  he 
was  running  a  race  with  rich  houses — as  those  of  Gurney,  Rothschilds, 
and  the  Barings. 

The  head  of  the  house  of  Baring  was  Joshua  Bates,  also  an  Ameri- 
can, and  a  native  of  Massachusetts.  He  was  born  in  Weymouth,  and 
had  been  in  England  since  1815.  His  benefactions  were  noble,  and 
the  magnificent  reading-room  in  the  Boston  Public  Library  bears  the 
name  of  Bates  Hall,  from  the  munificent  endowment  which  he  gave 
that  institution. 

Peabody's  life  in  London  was  an  unostentatious  one.  He  was 
always  simple  and  modest  in  his  habits,  yet  genial  and  fond  of  society. 
He  never  kept  house,  but  lived  in  a  suite  of  bachelor  apartments.  It 
is  said  that  in  the  ten  most  prosperous  years  of  his  life,  his  personal 
expenses  were  never  over  three  thousand  dollars  per  annum.  Yet  he 
was  always  hospitable.  American  visitors  in  London  testified  for 
years,  to  the  charm  of  the  little  dinners  he  was  accustomed  to  give 
to  select  parties  of  guests.  Sometimes  he  arranged  a  pleasant  party 
at  Hampton  Court ;  sometimes  at  Richmond,  and  often  at  the  club 
of  which  he  was  a  member.  These  dinners  were  celebrated  for  their 
elegance.  In  the  perfection  of  the  cookery  and  appointments,  he 
took  great  pride.  Yet  his  own  tastes  were  exceedingly  simple.  Often, 
at  the  head  of  the  sumptuous  entertainment  he  had  provided  for  his 
guests,  he  sat  with  only  a  plainly  cooked  mutton-chop  before  him, 
while  course  after  course  of  different  degrees  of  richness,  all  tempting 
the  appetite  of  the  gourmand,  passed  him  by.  Fruit  was  his  chief 
luxury,  and  he  always  had  the  choicest  sorts  on  his  table  at  every 
meal.  To  his  frugal  habits  he  was  no  doubt  indebted  for  his  robust 
and  vigorous  old  age.  After  a  life  of  unstinted  devotion  to  business, 
he  was  hale  and  fresh  in  his  seventieth  year. 


762  GEORGE    PEABODY. 

In  society  he  could  talk  forcibly  and  well.  His  memory  always 
tenacious  of  the  facts  and  associations  of  his  life,  as  his  benefactions 
will  testify,  was  richly  stored  with  incidents  which  made  him  an  en- 
tertaining companion.  His  observation  was  wonderfully  quick  and 
acute,  and  his  appreciation  of  other  men's  good  points  made  him 
able  to  draw  people  out  in  conversation  in  the  manner  which  dis- 
played them  to  the  best  advantage. 

His  favorite  evening  amusements  were  whist  and  backgammon. 
After  dinner  was  over  at  his  club,  or  in  his  own  apartments,  it  was 
his  greatest  satisfaction  to  get  together  three  appreciative  companions, 
and  sit  down  to  Sarah  Battle's  favorite  game.  Like  her,  he  scorned 
the  flippant  players,  who  amused  themselves  at  whist  without  earnest- 
ness or  a  true  reverence  for  the  game,  and  sat  down  to  it  as  a  serious 
matter — a  thing  not  to  be  engaged  in  in  a  trifling  spirit.  Later  in 
the  evening  he  would  play  backgammon,  as  a  relief  from  the  more 
vigorous  requirements  of  whist.  Over  this  game  he  could  jest,  and 
crack  a  good  joke  once  in  a  while ;  but  whist  to  him,  as  to  all  gen- 
uine whist-players,  was  a  serious  pursuit. 

When  the  size  of  the  company  forbade  games  for  private  amuse- 
ment, singing  was  his  favorite  entertainment.  He  particularly  liked 
simple  ballad-singing — especially  Scotch  songs.  Auld  Robin  Grey, 
Bonny  Dundee,  or  Robin  Adair,  would  touch  and  stir  him  as  no 
foreign  music  ever  could. 

No  voice  at  his  own  fireside  ever  won  him  from  care  or  soothed 
him  to  rest.  He  remained  a  bachelor  all  his  life.  There  are  many 
explanations  of,  and  reports  about,  his  unmarried  state — all  agreeing 
on  one  point;  that  at  one  time,  after  he  had  taken  up  his  abode  in 
London,  then  an  elderly  bachelor,  he  was  engaged  to  a  beautiful  and 
loveable  woman.  Discovering,  after  their  engagement,  that  she  loved 
another,  he  released  her  from  the  engagement,  and  never  married. 
The  most  trustworthy  in  appearance  of  all  these  reports  was  printed  after 
his  death  in  the  'Providence  Journal,'  and  as  it  bears  strong  evidence 
of  truth,  it  is  here  given  in  the  words  of  the  unknown  correspond- 
ent of  that  paper. 

"  More  than  thirty  years  ago,  in  the  far-famed  school  of  John  Kings- 
bury,  was  one  of  the  fairest  of  all  the  fair  daughters  of  Providence, 
celebrated  as  that  city  has  ever  been  for  its  lovely  girls.  Her  school 
education  finished,  she  went  with  friends  to  Europe ;  not,  however, 
before  having  given  her  youthful  affections  to  a  young  man  whom  she 
had  met  in  a  sister  city.  Before  marriage  had  consummated  their 
happiness,  adversity  came  upon  him,  and  he  found  himself  in  no 
situation  to  marry.  He  was  not  willing  she  should  waste  her  youth 
and  glorious  beauty  in  waiting  through  long  years  for  the  day  to  come 
when  he  could  call  her  his  own  ;  so  he  released  her  from  her  vows 
and  they  parted ;  she  going,  as  I  said  before,  to  Europe. 

**• There  she  met  George  Peabody,  then,  comparatively  speaking,  a 


HIS     FIRST     AND     ONLY     LOVE.  763 

young  man,  but  one  who  was  already  making  his  mark,  and  whose 
wealth  was  beginning  to  pour  in  from  every  side. 

"  He  saw  her,  and  was  struck  (as  who  that  ever  saw  her,  was  not 
struck  ?)  with  her  grace,  her  winning  ways,  her  exceeding  loveliness ; 
and  after  a  while  he  proposed  marriage.  Her  heart  still  clung  to  her 
loved  one  across  the  wide  Atlantic  ;  but,  after  some  time,  she  yielded, 
perhaps  to  the  wishes  of  her  friends,  perhaps  to  the  promptings  of 
worldly  ambitions  ; — who  can  fathom  the  heart  of  a  young  and  beauti- 
ful maiden  ?  She  became  the  affianced  wife  of  Mr.  Peabody.  After 
a  little  interval,  she  came  back  to  this  country,  and  soon  after  her 
arrival  met  her  first  love,  and  after-events  justify  me  in  saying,  her 
'only  love.'  At  sight  of  him,  all  her  former  affection  came  back, — 
if  indeed  it  had  ever  left  her, — and  Mr.  Peabody,  with  his  wealth  and 
brilliant  prospects,  faded  away  ;  and  she  clung  with  fond  affection  to 
her  American  lover,  willing  to  share  a  moderate  income  with  the 
chosen  of  her  heart.  All  was  told  to  Mr.  Peabody ;  and  he,  with  the 
manliness  which  characterized  all  his  actions,  gave  her  up;  and  in  due 
time  she  was  married,  and  settled  in  a  city  not  more  than  three  hun- 
dred miles  from  Providence.  What  she  suffered  in  coming  to  a  final 
conclusion  was  known  to  but  few.  Her  fair  cheeks  lost  their  round- 
ness, and  grew  wan  and  pale ;  her  lovely  eyes  had  a  mournful  wist- 
fulness  that  touched  every  heart.  Some  blamed  her  ;  others  praised 
her ;  but  the  painful  conflict  was  at  length  ended.  Her  womanhood 
vindicated  itself,  and  she  wavered  no  more. 

"  I  well  remember,"  the  writer  proceeds  to  add,  "when  in  Lon- 
don, twenty-eight  years  ago,  hearing  all  these  facts  talked  over  in  a 
circle  of  American  friends  ;  and  also  at  a  brilliant  dinner-party,  given 
by  General  Cass,  at  Versailles,  it  was  discussed  in  all  its  length  and 
breadth.  Whether,  in  his  visits  to  this  country,  Mr.  Peabody  ever 
met  his  once  affianced  bride,  I  can  not  say ;  neither  do  I  know 
whether,  when  she  heard  of  his  more  than  princely  wealth,  her  heart 
ever  gave  a  sigh  at  the  thought,  '  All  this  might  have  been  mine."  ' 

In  1851,  the  Crystal  Palace,  in  London,  was  opened  for  the  first 
World's  Fair.  When  the  American  exhibitors  came  with  their 
various  productions,  to  place  them  among  those  of  other  nations, 
they  found  that  portion  of  the  great  building  allotted  to  American  in- 
dustries bare  and  undecorated.  The  nations  of  Europe  had  made 
money  appropriations  and  sent  commissioners  to  fit  up  the  arcades 
and  galleries  devoted  to  their  wares  with  the  taste  and  beauty'  appro- 
priate to  the  place.  But  the  American  inventors  and  exhibitors  had 
no  appropriation  from  Congress,  and  often  no  means  of  their  own. 
At  this  juncture  George  Peabody  came  opportunely  forward,  and 
supplied  $15,000  ta  put  the  contributions  of  his  native  country  in 
proper  shape  for  exhibition,  and  gave  them  worthy  surroundings  in 
their  niche  in  the  great  World's  Palace.  This  is  the  first  public  gift 
of  George  Peabody  of  which  I  find  any  record;  but  from  this  time  his 
charities  rolled  on,  an  ever  increasing  tide,  until  his  death. 


764  GEORGE     PEABODY. 

In  1852,  Henry  Grinnell  gave  one  of  his  ships  to  Dr.  Elisha  Kane, 
to  aid  him  in  fitting  out  an  expedition  to  go  to  the  Arctic  Regions 
in  search  of  Sir  John  Franklin.  To  this  enterprise,  Peabody  supplied 
$10,000;  and  this  sum  was  increased  by  a  donation  from  the  Smith- 
sonian Institute  and  one  or  two  other  societies,  and  made  up  the  amount 
expended  in  that  enterprise,  which  reflected  so  much  honor  on  Dr. 
Kane  and  our  country.  Dr.  Kane  christened  various  portions  of  water 
and  land  discovered  in  this  expedition  by  the  names  of  his  patrons. 
Mr.  Grinnell  and  his  sister,  Mrs.  Mary  Minturn,  and  Mr.  Peabody, 
were  all  remembered ;  and  there  is  now  a  bay  called  Peabody  Bay, 
and  a  point  called  Peabody  Land,  in  the  frozen  regions  which  the 
adventurous  Kane  explored. 

In  the  summer  of  1852,  the  town  of  Danvers  held  its  centennial 
celebration.  The  name  of  George  Peabody  had  always  been  an  hon- 
ored one  among  his  townsmen,  and  on  this  occasion  they  sent  an  in- 
vitation for  him  to  be  present  with  them  on  this  memorial  day. 

Mr.  Peabody  could  not  leave  London,  but  he  sent  a  note  regretting 
his  inability  to  be  there,  and  a  sealed  packet  with  this  endorsement: 
"  The  seal  of  this  is  not  to  be  broken  till  the  toasts  are  being  pro- 
posed by  the  chairman,  at  the  dinner,  i6th  June,  at  Danvers,  in  com- 
memoration of  the  one  hundreth  year  since  its  severance  from  Salem." 

On  unsealing  the  letter,  a  draft  for  twenty  thousand  dollars  was  found 
inclosed,  for  the  purpose  of  founding  a  town  library  and  Lyceum  In- 
stitute. The  conditions  of  the  gift  were  simply  that  half  the  sum 
should  form  a  fund  whose  interest  should  be  devoted  to  sustaining  a 
course  of  free  lectures;  that  $7,000  should  be  used  in  the  erection  of 
a  proper  building  for  a  Lyceum  Institute ;  and  that  all  sectarian  the- 
ology and  political  discussion  should  be  excluded  from  the  Institute. 
His  letter  closes  with  a  request  that  Mr.  Sylvester  Procter,  his  earliest 
employer,  should  lay  the  corner-stone  of  the  Institute,  if  he  were  liv- 
ing. The  old  man  had  before  this  been  gathered  to  his  fathers ;  but 
the  request  of  Peabody  shows  one  of  his  most  marked  characteristics 
— a  disposition  to  remember  and  honor  those  with  whom  he  was  con- 
nected by  ties  of  friendship  or  early  association. 

The  Lyceum  building  at  Danvers  was  at  once  begun,  and  named 
Peabody  Institute,  in  honor  of  its  founder.  Long  before  its  comple- 
tion, however,  it  far  outgrew  its  original  design;  and  before  the  death 
of  its  founder,  it  had  received  upwards  of  $200,000  from  him. 

In  the  fall  of  1856,  nearly  twenty  years  after  his  removal  to  Lon- 
don, Mr.  Peabody  visited  this  country  for  the  first  time  since  his  de- 
parture. Invitations  at  once  showered  on  him  from  all  sources,  and 
the  highest  public  honors  were  proffered  him  in  New  York,  Baltimore. 
Philadelphia,  and  Boston.  But  he  refused  them  with  a  manly  mod- 
esty, which  was  an  unaffected  trait  of  the  man  all  through  life,  and 
would  have  no  public  reception,  except  the  one  offered  him  by  his 
own  town  of  Danvers. 

During  this  visit  to  America,  Mr.  Peabody  first  announced  his  de- 


OPPOSED     TO    BIGOTRY    AND    INTOLERANCE.         765 

sign  of  giving  Baltimore  an  institution  similar  to  the  one  he  had  given 
Danvers,  on  a  grander  and  improved  scale.  The  gift  was  to  include 
a  building  which  should  be  an  architectural  addition  to  the  city,  and 
a  fund,  secured  by  investment,  which  should  furnish  money  to  pay 
lecturers,  purchase  works  of  art,  appliances  for  science,  and  any  other 
purposes  which  its  trustees  think  desirable.  This  building,  also  named 
for  its  founder,  was  finished  in  1866,  when  Mr.  Peabody  was  able  to 
be  present  at  the  dedication.  To  this  institution  he  gave  one  million 
dollars.  Concerning  it  also  he  made  the  stipulation,  that  it  should  be 
free  from  all  influences  which  would  make  it  sectarian  in  conduct,  or 
partisan  in  politics.  His  language,  in  making  this  condition,  is  so 
noble,  that  we  can  not  forbear  quoting  from  his  letter  to  the  trustees. 
He  says:  "My  earnest  wish  to  promote  at  all  times  a  spirit  of  har- 
mony and  good-will  in  society,  my  aversion  to  intolerance,  bigotry> 
and  party  rancor,  and  my  enduring  respect  and  love  for  the  happy 
institutions  of  our  prosperous  republic,  impel  me  to  express  the  wish 
that  the  institute  I  have  proposed  to  you  shall  always  be  strictly  guarded 
against  the  possibility  of  being  made  a  theater  for  the  dissemination 
or  discussion  of  sectarian  theology  or  party  politics;  that  it  shall 
never  lend  its  aid  or  influence  to  the  propagation  of  opinions  tending 
to  create  or  encourage  sectional  jealousies  in  our  happy  country,  or 
which  may  lead  to  the  alienation  of  the  people  of  one  State  or  section 
of  the  Union  from  those  of  another;  but  that  it  shall  be  so  conducted, 
through  its  whole  career,  as  to  teach  political  and  religious  charity, 
toleration  and  beneficence,  and  prove  itself  to  be,  in  all  conditions 
and  contingencies,  the  true  friend  of  our  inestimable  Union,  of  the 
salutary  institutions  of  free  government,  and  of  liberty,  regulated  by 
law." 

After  his  return  to  England  in  1859,  Mr.  Peabody  began  to 
mature  a  scheme  for  the  amelioration  of  the  English  poor.  His  phil- 
anthropic eye  saw  clearly  that  to  establish  institutes  for  intellectual 
culture  in  that  great  city,  similar  to  those  he  had  been  founding  in 
the  United  States,  would  be  like  giving  a  stone  to  those  who  were 
crying  for  bread.  He,  therefore,  laid  aside  any  wishes  he  may  have 
had  for  the  educational  or  literary  improvement  of  the  working-classes, 
and  devoted  himself  to  plans  of  material  benevolence. 

In  1862,  he  wrote  to  Sir  Curtis  Lampson,  Lord  Stanley,  Sir  James 
Emerson  Tennant,  Charles  Francis  Adams,  and  Mr.  J.  Morgan,  con- 
stituting them  a  committee  to  carry  out  his  designs.  All  these  gentle- 
men were  his  intimate  friends.  Mr.  Adams  was  then  our  minister  in 
England  ;  Sir  Curtis  Lampson  was  an  American  by  birth,  who  had 
been  knighted  by  the  Queen  ;  Lord  Stanley  and  Sir  James  Tennant 
were  both  men  of  strong  American  sympathies,  and  Mr.  Morgan  was 
the  esteemed  partner  of  Mr.  Peabody.  In  his  letter  to  them,  Mr. 
Peabody  says : 

"  From  a  comparatively  early  period  of  my  commercial  life,  I  had 
resolved  in  my  own  mind  that,  should  my  labors  be  blessed  with  sue- 


766  GEORGE      PEABODY. 

cess,  I  would  devote, a  portion  of  the  property  thus  acquired  to  pro- 
mote the  intellectual,  moral,  and  physical  welfare  and  comfort  of  my 
fellow-men,  wherever,  from  circumstances  or  location,  their  claims 
upon  me  would  be  the  stronger." 

For  this  purpose,  he  informs  this  board  of  trustees,  that  he  has 
placed  at  their  disposal  i5o,ooo/.  This  sum  he  afterward  increased 
till  it  reached  350,0007.  before  his  death,  and  at  his  death  bequeathed 
150,0007.  more,  so  that  it  was  made  half  a  million  pounds  sterling,  or 
two  millions  and  a  half  of  dollars. 

The  manner  in  which  the  trustees  of  Mr.  Peabody  decided  to  carry 
out  his  wish,  "  to  ameliorate  the  condition  and  augment  the  comfort 
of  the  poor,"  was  the  result  of  deep  consideration.  They  concluded 
that  the  hard-working  lower  classes  were  much  better  subjects  for  im- 
provement than  the  large  mass  of  London  paupers.  Accordingly, 
they  proposed  to  build  large  blocks  or  squares  of  houses,  fitted  up 
cleanly  and  comfortably,  in  which  working  men  and  their  families 
could  find  comfortable  homes,  at  a  lower  rent  than  they  were  obliged 
to  pay  in  the  loathsome  tenement  houses  in  which  they  lived. 

The  first  site  fixed  upon  was  in  Spitalfields,  near  the  terminus  of 
the  Eastern  Counties  Railway.  Afterwards  lots  were  bought  at  Chelsea, 
Westminster,  Islington,  and  Shadwell,  each  sufficient  to  form  a  large 
square,  the  smallest  being  over  13,000  square  feet,  and  the  largest 
about  73,000  square  feet.  These  lots  were  situated  in  different  parts 
of  London,  in  districts  where  the  great  masses  of  working  men  lived. 

On  these  sites,  substantial  brick  buildings  have  been  erected. 
Those  in  Islington  and  Spitalfields  consist  each  of  four  detached  blocks, 
five  stories  high,  and  let  out  in  tenements  of  one,  two,  and  three 
rooms,  built  around  a  large  square.  Those  at  Shadwell  and  West- 
minster are  each  three  blocks,  with  one  open  side ;  but  in  all  cases  there 
is  a  large  space,  which  is  used  as  a  play-ground  by  the  children  of 
the  poor  people  who  live  in  the  buildings.  In  most  of  the  blocks,  the 
upper  story  is  fitted  up  for  a  co-operative  laundry,  with  wash-houses, 
baths,  and  all  modern  conveniences.  Excellent  ventilation  and  drain- 
age are  maintained  throughout  all  these  buildings  ;  water  from  cisterns 
immediately  under  the  roof  is  distributed  to  each  tenant ;  great  shafts, 
with  voids  from  each  tenement,  are  arranged  to  carry  all  refuse  and  rub- 
bish to  the  cellar,  from  whence  carts  take  it  away  daily.  The  rooms 
are  small,  on  an  average  about  nine  feet  by  twelve,  but  they  are  very 
comfortably  ventilated,  and  amply  provided  with  cupboards,  shelves, 
and  other  conveniences  unusual  in  the  houses  of  the  London  poor.  It 
is  said  that  the  ample  and  airy  play-ground,  where  the  children  can  be 
allowed  to  play,  safe  from  the  carriages  and  carts  that  crowd  the 
streets,  is  the  most  popular  arrangement  in  the  whole  great  enterprise, 
and  that  many  a  poor  mother  blesses  George  Peabody,  since  her 
child  can  have  his  free  share  of  air  and  liberty,  without  danger  of 
being  run  over  and  maimed  for  life  by  the  heavy  vehicles  in  the 
streets. 


OFFERED      A     BARONETCY.  767 

The  rooms  of  the  tenements  have  tiled  floors  and  white-washed 
walls ;  and  a  family  of  six  can  hire  three  comfortable,  well-lighted 
rooms  for  five  dollars  per  month.  This  is  about  one-fifth  lower  than 
the  rent  of  the  damp,  loathsome  places  which  usually  constitute 
the  abodes  of  the  class  who  now  occupy  Mr.  Peabody's  model 
houses. 

Already  it  has  been  proved  that  the  inmates  of  these  houses  show 
the  results  of  their  improved  style  of  living,  in  improved  health  and 
morals.  With  a  comfortable  sitting-room,  in  which  to  spend  his 
evenings,  the  father  of  the  family  no  longer  seeks  the  ale-house  or 
gin-shop.  Drunkenness  and  quarreling  are  rare  among  the  inhabitants. 
According  to  the  report  of  1865,  the  total  population  of  these  houses 
was  1,971.  They  include  almost  every  trade — laborers,  porters, 
policemen,  carmen,  needle-women,  and  char-women,  are  the  trades 
most  largely  represented,  with  an  occasional  blacksmith,  carpenter, 
and  machinist.  It  is  to  be  hoped  that  such  charities  as  those  of 
George  Peabody  will  be  repeated,  till  every  poor  man  in  England, 
in  America,  in  the  whole  civilized  world,  will  have  a  clean,  comfort- 
able dwelling,  with  healthful  surroundings.  It  need  not  be  a  chari- 
table enterprise  altogether,  for,  with  judicious  management,  such 
buildings  could  be  made  self-supporting,  and  even  remunerative  to 
their  founders. 

The  English  people  were  enthusiastic  in  their  expressions  of  grati- 
tude to  the  great  capitalist,  who  thus  showed  at  once  his  good  sense 
and  his  philanthropy.  They  would  have  loaded  him  with  honors,  if 
he  had  not  kept  aloof  from  all  popular  demonstration.  A  baronetcy 
was  proffered  him,  but  he  refused  it.  Badges  and  insignia  of  rank  of 
various  sorts  he  declined  in  the  same  quiet  way.  London  gave  him 
the  freedom  of  the  city,  and  many  institutions  passed  resolutions 
making  him  one  of  their  honorary  members.  London  resolved  to 
place  his  statue  in  a  public  square,  near  the  Royal  Exchange,  and 
selected  Mr.  Story,  the  American  sculptor,  to  do  the  work.  At  the 
unveiling  of  the  noble  figure,  the  Prince  of  Wales  presided.  In  his 
speech  the  prince  said  : 

"It  affords  me  the  deepest  gratification  to  pay  a  mark  of  honor 
and  respect  to  the  name  of  the  great  American  citizen — the  great 
philanthropist — I  may  say,  the  citizen  of  the  world.  England  can 
never  adequately  pay  the  debt  of  gratitude  she  owes  that  man  ;  Lon- 
don especially,  to  which  his  wonderful  charity  has  been  so  liberally 
distributed." 

Mr.  Motley,  then  our  American  minister,  made  the  closing  speech, 
and,  amid  music  and  shouting,  the  statue  was  unveiled.  It  represents 
Mr.  Peabody  seated  in  an  arm-chair,  standing  on  a  massive  pe- 
destal. The  whole  preserves  most  accurately  and  simply  the  form 
and  features  of  the  good  man. 

Before  his  last  visit  to  America  he  was  asked  what  recognition  of 
his  generosity  to  her  people  he  would  accept  from  the  Queen  of  Eng- 


768  GEORGE     PEABODY. 

land.  He  replied,  "A  letter  from  the  Queen,  which  I  can  take 
with  me  to  America,  and  deposit  there  as  a  memorial  of  one  of  her 
most  faithful  sons." 

Shortly  after  this  the  following  letter  was  sent  Mr.  Peabody,  through 
Lord  John  Russell : 

"WINDSOR  CASTLE,  March  28,  1866. 

"  The  Queen  hears  that  Mr.  Peabody  intends  shortly  to  return  to 
America;  and  she  would  be  sorry  that  he  should  leave  England  with- 
out being  assured  by  herself  how  deeply  she  appreciates  the  noble 
act,  of  more  than  princely  munificence,  by  which  he  has  sought  to 
relieve  the  wants  of  her  poorer  subjects  residing  in  London.  It  is  an 
act,  as  the  Queen  believes,  wholly  without  parallel ;  and  which  will 
carry  its  best  reward  in  the  consciousness  of  having  contributed  so 
largely  to  the  assistance  of  those  who  can  so  little  help  themselves. 

"The  Queen  would  not,  however,  have  been  satisfied  without  giv- 
ing Mr.  Peabody  some  public  mark  of  her  sense  of  his  munificence, 
and  she  would  gladly  have  conferred  upon  him  either  a  baronetcy  or 
the  Grand  Cross  of  the  order  of  Bath,  but  that  she  understands  Mr. 
Peabody  to  feel  himself  debarred  from  accepting  such  distinctions. 
It  only  remains,  therefore,  for  the  Queen  to  give  Mr.  Peabody  this 
assurance  of  her  personal  feeling,  which  she  would  further  wish  to 
mark  by  asking  him  to  accept  a  miniature  portrait  of  herself,  which 
she  will  desire  to  have  painted  for  him,  and  which,  when  finished, 
can  either  be  sent  to  him  in  America,  or  given  to  him  on  the  return, 
which  she  rejoices  to  hear  he  meditates,  to  the  country  which  owes 
him  so  much." 

The  miniature  of  which  she  thus  speaks  was  at  once  ordered,  and 
on  its  completion  was  sent  to  Danvers,  Mass.  It  was  a  half-length, 
enclosed  in  a  massive  gold  frame,  richly  chased,  the  size  about  14 
inches  long  by  10  in  width.  It  was  at  once  deposited  in  the  vault 
in  Peabody  Institute,  which  he  had  built  to  receive  those  acknowl- 
edgments of  his  gifts  which  he  most  highly  valued.  The  contents 
of  the  vault  are  as  follows :  The  miniature  of  the  Queen,  and  her 
letter  accompanying  it ;  an  autograph  copy  of  the  Queen's  Journal, 
published  by  her  in  1865;  the  gold  box  containing  the  freedom  of 
London ;  a  gold  box  from  the  Fishmongers'  Association  in  London ; 
a  book  of  autographs  collected  by  Mr.  Peabody  among  his  wide 
circle  of  distinguished  acquaintances ;  a  medal  from  the  Congress  of 
the  United  States;  and  several  smaller  souvenirs. 

In  1866,  Mr.  Peabody  visited  America  for  the  last  time.  As  he 
grew  old,  and  began  to  look  upon  his  earthly  race  as  almost  run,  he 
seems  to  have  been  drawn  more  and  more  to  the  home  of  his  child- 
hood. He  felt,  too,  that  not  many  more  years  of  life,  in  the  com- 
mon course  of  humanity,  could  be  his,  and,  wishing  to  direct  his 
enormous  wealth  into  the  channels  in  which  Ire  wished  it  to  flow,  he 


HIS      CHARITIES.  769 

gave  more  and  more  lavishly  to  those  institutions  which  were  his 
favorite  objects  of  charity. 

To  establish  in  Harvard  College  a  museum  and  a  professorship  of 
Archaeology  and  Ethnology,  he  gave  $150,000.  At  the  same  time  he 
gave  Yale  College  the  same  amount  for  a  museum  of  Natural  History. 
The  Essex  Institute,  in  Salem,  one  of  the  best  and  noblest  institutions 
for  science  in  the  United  States,  received  $140,000  from  Mr.  Pea- 
body's  unfailing  generosity.  Never  was  generosity  more  wisely  mani- 
fested than  in  this  gift ;  and  this  Institute,  in  connection  viith  the 
Peabody  Academy  for  science,  gives  promise  of  unlimited  future  use- 
fulness in  the  cause  of  science  in  this  country. 

Mr.  Peabody  remembered  also  the  towns  in  New  England  where 
portions  of  his  boyhood  were  spent.  Revisiting  Thetford,  Vermont, 
the  home  of  his  grandfather,  where  he  had  spent  his  sixteenth  year, 
he  gave  the  village  of  Post  Mills  $5,000  for  a  village  library,  and  to 
it  a  fine  portrait  of  himself.  To  Newburyport  he  sent  $15,000  for 
the  enlargement  and  improvement  of  their  city  library,  and  gave  them 
also  his  portrait  to  hang  upon s  its  walls.  Of  the  little  town  in  Mass- 
achusetts where  his  mother  was  born,  and  which,  in  1839,  had  been 
called  Georgetown  in  his  honor,  he  said  :  "I  should  like  to  take  each 
resident  by  the  hand,  for  never  in  any  visit  there  have  I  been  annoyed 
by  calls  or  letters,  and  not  one  of  the  citizens  has  in  any  way  solic- 
ited help  from  me." 

To  Georgetown  he  gave  a  church,  which  he  erected  in  memory  of 
his  mother,  to  whom  he  had  been  always  a  most  loving  and  tender 
son.  Mrs.  Peabody  used  to  relate  of  her  son,  that,  as  soon  as  he  went 
into  business  in  Baltimore,  in  1822,  he  wrote  her  that  he  "should  be 
able  to  supply  the  family  with  all  the  flour  they  needed."  From  that 
time  to  her  death,  George's  care  for  his  mother's  wants  increased  with 
the  growth  of  his  prosperity.  This  church,  dedicated  to  the  mother 
whom  he  so  loved  and  honored,  is  called  "  Memorial  Church,"  and 
is  a  worthy  monument  to  a  mother's  memory.  He  also  remembered 
Georgetown  with  a  town  library  and  lyceum  for  free  lectures. 

To  two  other  institutions  of  learning,  Phillips  Academy,  in  An- 
dover,  and  Kenyon  College,  in  Ohio,  he  gave  respectively  $25,000 
and  $20,000.  In  Kenyon  College  he  became  interested  because  his  old 
and  valued  friend,  Bishop  Mcllvaine,  was  president  of  the  Institution. 
When  Mr.  Peabody  was  maturing  his  plans  for  the  relief  of  the  Eng- 
lish poor,  lie  consulted  Bishop  Mcllvaine  often  upon  the  subject,  and 
felt  for  him  a  most  earnest  and  sincere  friendship. 

But  the  crowning  munificence  of  this  great  philanthropist  was 
one  of  the  last  acts  of  his  life,  and  one  of  the  noblest.  In  a  letter 
to  the  trustees  of  the  Southern  Educational  Fund,  he  places  at  their 
disposal  over  two  millions  of  dollars,  to  be  devoted  to  the  free  edu- 
cation of  the  people  of  the  South.  In  this  letter  he  says  : 

"With  my  advancing  years,  my  attachment  to. my  native  land  has 
become  more  devoted  ;  my  hope  and  faith  in  its  successful  and  glo- 

49 


77°  GEORGE     PEABODY. 

t 

rious  future  has  grown  brighter  and  stronger ;  and  now,  looking 
forward  beyond  my  stay  on  earth,  as  may  be  permitted  to  one  who 
has  passed  the  limit  of  three-score  and  ten  years,  I  see  our  country 
emerging  from  the  clouds  which  surround  her,  taking  a  higher  rank 
among  the  nations,  and  becoming  richer  and  more  powerful  than  ever 
before.  But  to  make  her  prosperity  more  than  superficial,  her  moral 
and  intellectual  development  should  keep  pace  with  her  material 
growth ;  and  in  those  portions  of  our  nation  to  which  I  have  referred, 
the  urgent  and  pressing  needs  of  an  impoverished  people  must,  for 
some  years,  preclude  them  from  making,  by  unaided  effort,  such  ad- 
vances in  education  and  the  diffusion  of  knowledge  among  all  classes 
as  every  lover  of  his  country  must  ardently  desire. 

"With  the  wish  to  discharge,  so  far  as  I  am  able,  my  own  respon- 
sibility in  this  matter,  I  give  you  gentlemen,  most  of  whom  have 
been  my  personal  and  especial  friends,  the  sum  of  one  million,  to  be 
held  in  trust  by  you,  and  the  income  thereof  used  for  the  promotion 
and  encouragement  of  intellectual,  moral,  or  industrial  education 
among  the  young  of  the  more  destitute  portions  of  the  South  and 
South  Western  States  of  the  Union." 

To  this  amount  he  adds,  in  the  letter,  over  a  million  more  in  state 
bonds,  and  the  amount  was  increased  by  a  bequest  in  his  will,  to 
almost  two  and  a  half  millions.  Of  this  trust,  he  proposed  Robert 
Winthrop,  of  Massachusetts,  as  chairman  ;  Governor  Fish,  of  New 
York,  and  Bishop  Mcllvaine,  as  vice-chairmen ;  and  General  Grant, 
WTilliam  Evarts,  and  his  nephew,  George  Peabody  Russell,  were 
among  the  committee. 

The  words  of  this  letter  advocating  the  education  of  the  South, 
and  so  effectually  aiding  to  advance  this  cause,  breathes  the  highest 
and  noblest  patriotism.  Notwithstanding  George  Peabody's  long 
residence  in  England,  his  affection  and  his  interest  were  never  alien- 
ated from  home.  All  his  words  and  deeds  speak  the  noblest  love  for 
his  country,  and  all  his  gifts  tend  to  raise  her  higher  and  higher  in 
the  scale  of  intellectual  development.  He  regretted  our  civil  war  as 
a  terrible  necessity,  and  his  pity  for  the  South,  in  which  he  had  found 
home  and  friends  in  early  business  life,  was  sincerely  expressed;  but 
his  devotion  to  the  Union  was  unwavering.  In  his  speech  at  the 
dedication  of  the  Baltimore  Peabody  Institute,  he  said  : 

"  My  father  bore  arms  in  some  of  the  darkest  days  of  the  Revolu- 
tion, and  from  him  and  his  example  I  learned  to  love  and  honor  the 
Union.  Born  and  educated  in  the  North,  living  twenty  years  in  the 
South,  and  finally  in  the  course  of  a  long  residence  abroad,  being 
thrown  in. intimate  contact  with  individuals  of  every  section  of  our 
glorious  land,  I  came — as  do  most  Americans  who  live  abroad — to 
love  our  country  as  a  whole,  to  know  no  South,  no  North,  no  East, 
no  West.  And  so  I  wish  publicly  to  avow  that,  during  the  terrible 
contest  through  which  the  nation  has  passed,  my  sympathies  were, 
and  always  will  be,  with  the  Union." 


PATRIOTISM     AND     GALLANTRY.  771 

We  have  dwelt  more  at  length  upon  George  Peabody's  patriotism, 
because  an  anecdote  reflecting  upon  his  loyalty  had,  some  years  ago,' 
an  extensive  circulation.  The  story,  truthfully  told,  is  simply  thus : 
After  the  first  World's  Fair  in  London,  at  the  time  when  Mr.  Peabody 
stepped  forward  to  redeem  the  credit  of  his  country,  by  contributing 
to  place  her  products  in  honorable  array  beside  those  of  European 
nations,  Mr.  Peabody  was  in  the  habit  of  celebrating  the  Fourth  of 
July  in  London  by  giving  a  semi-public  dinner,  to  which  he  invited 
all  Americans  visiting  that  city,  with  whom  he  had  any  acquaintance. 
All  who  bore  letters  of  credit  to  him,  he  sought  out  and  invited,  and 
he  also  asked  distinguished  English  men  and  women  to  be  present  on 
these  occasions. 

In  1854,  some  Americans  proposed  to  have  a  public  dinner  on  the 
Fourth  of  July,  which  should  have  something  of  a  national  charac- 
ter. Mr.  Peabody  entered  into  this  idea  with  characteristic  hearti- 
ness, asking  that  he  might  provide  the  dinner  at  his  own  expense,  but 
leaving  invitations  and  all  other  arrangements  with  the  committee. 

When  the  dinner  was  in  progress,  and  the  time  for  toasts  had  come, 
Mr.  Peabody  arose  and  said:  "  In  deference  to  her  sex,  if  not  to  her 
position,  I  shall  propose  the  health  of  her  Majesty,  Queen  Victoria." 
On  this,  a  party  of  U.  S.  officials  of  subordinate  rank,  arose  and 
flaunted  out  of  the  room,  .while  James  Buchanan,  who  afterwards  had 
an  opportunity  to  prove  his  loyalty,  as  President  of  the  United 
States,  when  the  civil  war  began  in  this  country,  and  who  was  then 
American  Minister  to  England,  refused  to  rise  in  his  seat,  or  to  drink 
the  toast.  This  harmless  piece  of  gallantry  to  the  leading  lady  in 
Europe  made  Mr.  Peabody  many  bitter  enemies  to  the  day  of  his 
death. 

In  the  summer  of  1869,  Mr.  Peabody,  still  visiting  in  America,  felt 
his  health  beginning  to  fail  him.  His  physicians  advised  him  to  try 
a  warmer  climate,  before  the  cold  weather  should  set  in.  He  began 
at  once  to  make  his  arrangements  to  go  to  London,  intending  to  go 
from  thence  to  Italy  to  spend  the  winter.  His  last  public  appearance 
in  America  was  on  the  occasion  of  the  great  Peace  Jubilee,  in  Boston. 
He  made  his  last  visit  to  his  friends  and  relatives  in  America,  and 
engaged  passage  for  England,  in  September.  During  this  visit  in  his 
own  land,  he  had  divided  about  a  million  and  a  half  among  his  rela- 
tives, who  were  principally  nieces  and  nephews. 

On  his  return  to  England,  Col.  Forney,  of  Philadelphia,  sailed  on 
the  same  ship  with  him,  and  he  thus  describes  him  in  these  latest 
days:  "As  I  studied  the  figure  of  the  venerable  philanthropist  yestorday, 
as  he  lay  dozing  on  one  of  the  sofas,  in  the  forward  saloon,  1  confessed 
I  had  never  seen  a  nobler  or  more  imposing  figure.  Never  has  hu- 
man face  spoken  more  humane  emotions.  His  fine  head,  rivaling 
the  best  of  the  old  aristocracy,  and  blending  the  ideals  of  benevo- 
lence and  integrity;  his  tranquil  and  pleasing  countenance  and  silver 
hair,  crown  a  form  of  unusual  digitity  and  grace." 


772  GEORGE     PEABODY. 

On  this  last  voyage  to  England,  an  incident  occurred  which  is 
characteristic  of  Mr.  Peabody.  On  the  day  the  passengers  were  to 
leave  the  steamer,  some  resolutions  were  drawn  up  by  them  and  pre- 
sented to  Mr.  Peabody,  testifying  their  respect  and  reverence  for  his 
philanthropy.  One  of  these  resolutions  referred  to  the  fact  that  Mr. 
Peabody  had  improved  on  the  generosity  of  Girard  and  Smithson, 
who  had  bequeathed  their  benefaction  to  posterity  after  their  deaths, 
while  he  had,  during  his  life,  given  his  wealth  for  the  good  of  humanity. 

Mr.  Peabody  immediately  objected  to  this  clause,  and  had  the  pass- 
age expunged.  "Whatever  may  be  said  of  me,"  he  said  modestly, 
"yet  even  the  shadow  of  a  contrast  that  might  be  construed  into  a 
criticism  on  those  illustrious  men  should  be  avoided." 

When  Mr.  Peabody  reaphed  London  and  began  to  make  arrange- 
ments for  his  journey  southward,  his  strength  failed  more  and  more, 
until  he  was  obliged  to  admit  the  impossibility  of  travel.  He  went 
to  the  house  of  his  intimate  and  esteemed  friend,  Sir  Curtis  Lampson, 
and  there,  Nov.,  1869,  he  died.  In  his  last  moments  a  faithful  cler- 
gyman from  America,  with  whom  he  had  once  made  a  voyage,  called, 
and  was  admitted  to  his  death-chamber.  Amid  the  prayers  of  this 
friend,  the  dying  man  gently  murmured:  "It  is  a  great  mystery,  but 
I  shall  know  all  soon.  Amen."  And  so  his  spirit  passed  away.  As 
soon  as  the  Atlantic  cable  flashed  the  news  of  his  decease  across  the 
ocean,  the  country  aroused  to  honor  his  memory.  The  Peabody  and 
Baltimore  Institutes  ;  the  Massachusetts  Legislature  ;  the  Congress  of 
the  United  States;  all  passed  resolutions  in  his  honor.  In  England 
the  public  sorrow  was  no  less  marked.  It  had  been  decided  by  him- 
self that  his  remains  should  be  laid  by  the  side  of  his  mother's  body, 
in  the  tomb  in  Danvers,  and  thither  he  was  to  be  borne.  But  in 
accordance  with  the  general  wish,  his  funeral  service  was  pronounced 
in  Westminster  Abbey.  Mr.  Gladstone,  the  Earl  of  Clarendon,  Earl 
Grey,  and  all  the  high  officials  of  the  city  of  London  were  among 
the  mourners.  The  Bishop  of  the  city  preached  his  funeral  sermon, 
and  one  of  the  archdeacons  read  the  burial  service. 

From  France,  the  voice  of  Victor  Hugo  came  in  sorrow  for  the  loss 
of  so  good  a  man.  His  letter  closes  eloquently  with  these  words: 
"His  fatherland  will  guard  his  ashes,  and  our  hearts  his  menory.  The 
Free  American  Flag  can  never  display  stars  enough  above  his  coffin." 

In  the  cemetery  of  Harmony  Grove,  between  the  towns  of  Salem 
and  Danvers,  (now  only  known  as  Peabody,)  lie  the  earthly  remains 
of  this  good  man.  Amid  its  cool  and  leafy  shades,  his  dust  lies 
peacefully.  But  the  good  he  has  done  lives  after  him,  and  will  yet 
speak  for  him,  when  future  generations  are  enjoying  the  treasures  of 
knowledge  his  bounty  has  provided  for  them. 

"Farewell,"  says  Robert  Winthrop,  in  his  address  over  his  tomb, 
"farewell  to  thee,  brave,  honest,  noble-hearted  friend  of  mankind." 


CT 

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